Protecting Her: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

by Kira Blakely

  Of course, all that waiting hadn’t amounted to much. Not if I was going to die.

  “HELP!” I began to scream, feeling the tears run down my cheeks. They were salty, thick, and they dribbled against my tongue. “HELP!” But the fire was growing more insistent, loud outside the door, roaring in my ears and making me shiver, despite the intense heat. Unsure, I dipped into the bathtub, wondering if this would keep me safe longer. But then, the thought of being boiled alive overwrought any other fear. I tumbled out, falling to the ground.

  What on earth was I going to do?

  I couldn’t feel the screams any longer. They just poured out of me, filling my lungs, making my throat raspy. I knew, in these moments, coiled against the tub on the bathtub floor, that I wasn’t going to make it alive. I knew that I needed to kiss my life goodbye. That I would never see my mother again. That I’d never find true love.

  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The world wouldn’t belong to me. Not anymore.

  Chapter 5

  Theo

  The fire truck bolted down Spann Avenue. I eyed my house, shadowed and dark in the minutes after dusk, and then turned my head across the way. The house that belonged to the young girl I’d seen earlier. The beautiful woman, with her large breasts, her thin waist, her tired tragedy as the boy left her behind—it was her house, burning. Orange flames snuck from the front window and dark clouds of smoke oozed from the back. The house was tiny, with rooms kind of stacked together in a single layer, meaning it was easy to get trapped. After glancing in the front yard, at the collection of neighbors that had grown, becoming voyeurs, I realized the girl wasn’t among them.

  Which meant she was probably still in the house.

  I grew alert, activated. The moment the fire truck halted, I bolted from the back seat, hunting for the fire hydrant. With a dramatic tug, I brought the hose from the back of the truck and connected it, sensing the other firemen’s eyes upon me. I felt animalistic, alive, working on someone else’s time, rather than just my own. I shot my hand toward the front door, crying out, “Mason! Grab the hose! I think there’s someone in there!”

  “How do you know?” Mason cried back, his face red from the heat steaming from the house.

  “I live across the street. Come on!”

  I raced toward the front door, leaping up the stone steps and nearly kicking the welcome sign that lay, tilted, near the scattered beer cans along the side. I wondered, in the back of my mind, if they were his or hers. How many fires had I been to that involved very drunk people? Too many. And too often, they didn’t make it out alive.

  I broke through the door, scattering glass. Even in the doorway, I heard the ‘80s music, still streaming from the kitchen. After a jolt through the foyer, I stood, poised, watching as the fire licked at nearly everything in sight. The refrigerator was already a mere skeleton. The pot and skillet on the stovetop were completely incinerated. The smell of burnt food, of ash, was everywhere, and I immediately donned my mask so that I could breathe. Mason appeared beside me, holding the hose. After a brief pause, he began to blast everything, causing steam to whoosh up toward the crumbling ceiling. Immediately, the ‘80s music grew stifled and turned off, finally falling to death.

  Without pausing to watch the rest of the attack, I burst through the side of the kitchen, stepping on hot coals that had once been a dining room table, and then found myself in the hallway. At the far end, a single door stood, closed, with towels peeking from beneath, as if someone had pushed them there, wanting to keep smoke out.

  Feeling as if I were in a dream, I trudged toward the door, trying the handle, and then banged on it—not wanting to bust it open and hurt her. My heart raced, remaining somewhere near my throat, as I waited.

  “Hey!” I cried, finally knowing I needed to make some kind of human contact. “It’s us. Hey! We’re here to help you!”

  After a long, aching pause—during which I began to make peace with the fact that the smoke might have killed her already, or at least knocked her out cold—I heard her soft, intimate voice. It felt like it was coming from another world. A dream.

  Not one of my nightmares.

  “The handle’s too hot to touch!” she cried.

  “Okay. Stand back!” I cried. “Are you back?”

  “Yes!” she answered.

  We were working together. She was cooperating. She wasn’t unconscious.

  I’d gotten there in time.

  With all the energy I could, I bolted against the door, cracking it with my shoulder. After another lurch, I managed to break open the door completely, creating a human-sized hole in the center. Blinking through the dark, horrible clouds of smoke, I saw her: quivering, naked, near the sink. On the sink, she’d written a single word: Sarah.

  As if she wanted the world to remember her name.

  I broke through the hole, reaching for her. Her eyes were saucer-like, unable to comprehend that I was there. That someone had found her. Her breasts, milky white and round, would fit perfectly in my hands. Wrapping my arms around her thin waist, I thrust her over my shoulder. I grabbed a towel from the floor and dipped it into the bath water. “Put this over your mouth. We’re going to walk through your house to get out. Okay?”

  She did as she was told, putting her utmost trust in me. Her muscles still quivered in my arms. Stumbling into the near-black hallway, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I could still hear Mason’s water, blasting against the kitchen cabinets, the counters. We hadn’t made it there in time; the entire place would crumble to the ground. I’d seen fires like this before.

  I knew how they worked. They were like animals, almost organic, like anything else.

  Sometimes you just had to let them burn.

  Bursting down the hallway, I could feel the wooden floor crumbling beneath me. I yelled out to Mason as I blasted through the kitchen, “We have to go! Come on! She’s the only one!”

  Mason gave me a firm nod before following me out the front door. The naked girl—Sarah—bobbed against my shoulder, clinging to my clothes. We appeared in the clean, cool air of the night, in full view of all her neighbors. But as we moved through her house, her muscles grew lax, her mind gave way to unconsciousness. Shock had taken over. Perhaps it was for the best, her body telling her what she should and shouldn’t experience. In my experience, our bodies normally knew best.

  I stretched her across the grass beneath the maple tree that lined the edge of her yard. A neighbor fled to his house, finding a bright blue blanket, and then gave it to me. Drawing it over her, I watched as she shifted, child-like, beneath it as if I were tucking her in for the night. After biting her lip, she whispered, “I never really loved him, anyway.”

  She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her brown curls eased over the curve of her breasts, beneath the bright blue blankets, and her shoulders were smooth. I sensed I needed to return to my other firefighters. There was still so much work to do. All eyes were upon me.

  But I felt, even as I gazed upon her, that she was the most wonderful thing I could ever live for.

  “It’s going to be all right, sweet girl,” I whispered to her, reaching forward and easing her bangs away from her eyes. “It’s all over, now. And you can rest.”

  Mason appeared behind me, then. “Come on, New Guy. You know the work’s never over. You know that better than any of us.”

  I did.

  I turned away from her quiet form, instructing several neighbors to watch over her until the paramedics arrived. And then, I turned back toward the black smoke, still billowing from the tiny home.

  Chapter 6

  Sarah

  I wasn’t sure where I was, or really what I was. In some sense, my brain knew I shouldn’t be alive. And when my eyes opened, and I found myself peering at a dark green canopy of trees, I wondered, abstractly, if I was in some kind of heaven. Some kind of comfortable, easy heaven: with the night sky stretching above, dotted with stars.

  I could still smell the smoke. It seemed to
soak into every orifice of my body, my cells. I shifted slightly, feeling the scratch of a blanket against my breasts, and then blinked again, clearing my mind. “What—“ I whispered, unsure if I’d be able to speak.

  “I think she’s awake.” This was an unfamiliar voice, bright and girlish, yet older. “The smoke’s really died down. Think they can save the house?”

  “Not a house that size,” another voice said. This was gruffer, masculine. “It was nothing but a shack anyway. Far as I’m concerned, think we should burn down all the houses in Fountain Square. None of them have been kept up well. Screw historical conservation.”

  “Why was she naked?” the woman asked, ignoring him.

  “I don’t know. But he’s coming back, now. Seems he can’t get enough of her.”

  My brain ached, wanting to understand. After a moment’s hesitation, I forced my eyes to blink, to comprehend the world around me. I forced myself back to reality.

  That’s when I saw him.

  He wore his fireman’s uniform, but had taken off his hat and his mask and was looking at me with large green eyes—almost as if he’d been waiting to meet me his entire life. I began to shift, trying to draw myself up on my shoulders. I realized I was naked, a newborn beneath the trees. I waited for him, watching as he slumped onto his knees and peered into my eyes. Behind him, my house was crumpled and black. Tears sprung to my eyes, a strange mix of joy, relief, and sheer, unadulterated sadness.

  He was the most handsome man I’d seen up close. Dark green eyes, dark blond hair curling around his ears, and this honest, yet confident smile. His accent was southern, adorable. “Hey there,” he drawled, making my stomach clench with fear. “I’m so glad you’re awake. We’ve been waiting on you.”

  “What do you mean?” I whispered. “Waiting on me?”

  “You didn’t think I’d leave you before you woke up, did you?” he asked, laughing slightly. He reached forward and brought his hands under my head, creating a kind of pillow. “We should have something for your head out here. You were unconscious. This can’t be good for you. At all.”

  “I’m fine,” I murmured, still unable to look away from his bright, searching eyes. “My house. It’s gone?”

  His face fell slightly. “I’m afraid so. The kitchen burnt to a crisp, and the rest of it is pretty damaged. Tons of heat damage. What you did was the right thing, hiding in the bathroom, with the towels beneath the door. It gave us enough time to save your life.”

  I reached up and gripped his wrist. It was so thick, I wasn’t able to wrap my fingers all the way around it. “I’m such an idiot,” I whispered, remembering the dinner I was cooking, the wine I had drunk. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice scratchy and earnest. “Baby, there’s no harm done, okay? You’re safe. You’re going to be fine. And nobody else was hurt in the fire.”

  “You—you saved my life,” I continued, feeling my anxiety rise within me. My heart hammered in my chest. “I have to find some way to repay you. I have to—“

  I heard the sirens behind me. I turned my head swiftly, catching the ambulance as it bucked against the curb. Two paramedics rushed to the back and drew out a stretcher, before racing it toward me. I began to protest, to shake my head vehemently. I didn’t want him to let me go.

  “Please,” I whispered, gazing into this strange man’s eyes. “I want to stay with you.”

  “You are staying with me,” he said back, squeezing my hand. “You’re staying alive. That’s all I wanted, when I went into that house today. You lived. And you’re going to live to do amazing things.”

  The paramedics eased me onto the stretcher, ensuring the blanket remained on my naked frame. I yearned for the firefighter’s hands to graze my breasts, to take over my body, to hold me tight. But he took three steps back, allowing them to move me toward the back of the ambulance.

  He said he knew what was best for me.

  Somehow, I had to believe him.

  Moments before they lurched me into the back of the ambulance, I cried out to him, sensing his eyes still upon me.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Theo!” he called back, standing stoic, firm. “And I know you already. You’re Sarah.”

  “Sarah Goldlein,” I said, giggling slightly. I felt butterflies flickering in my stomach. I felt alive. The memory of drawing my name on the bathroom mirror felt like a dream, now. It couldn’t have happened. And yet, he had seen it. That was the only explanation.

  “Thank you, Theo. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  The paramedics pushed the stretcher into the back, tossing the doors closed behind them. The engine cranked beneath us, pushing the ambulance down Spann Avenue and toward the hospital. My heart pattered in my chest; my eyes pierced the white ambulance ceiling overhead. Frightened, panicked, I clutched the blanket atop my chest, praying, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I would see Theo again.

  That we would find space for one another, under different circumstances.

  Now that I was alive—and really, completely wanting to be—I would live in all the ways I hadn’t, before. I wouldn’t waste time on assholes like Josh. I would find passion, intrigue, life.

  I deserved it.

  Chapter 7

  Theo

  Mason, Dillon, and I were silent as we drove back to the station. I could still feel Sarah’s hand in mine, ghost-like, yet so eager to cling onto me. She’d seemed so innocent, so lost, laying there naked on the grass. I’d wanted to keep her safe. To guard her. To ensure nothing bad like that ever happened to her again.

  But it was outside of my jurisdiction, now.

  “We need to make sure the girl’s family is located,” I said, shifting in my seat.

  Mason chortled slightly. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you, Theo?”

  My nostrils flared. “It’s just, she could have died. Her folks need to know, is all.”

  “They’ll contact them from the hospital, I’m sure,” Mason said, skirting the engine back into the station. He cut the engine, bringing silence to the interior. We could hear nothing but our deep breathing. “It ain’t a small town around here, Theo. That girl you just saved, you might never see her again. But she’ll appreciate what you’ve done for her the rest of her life. Mark my words.”

  It’s true that I was still thinking of this disaster in small town terms. Had I been back home in Alabama, I might have known that girl, personally, since the age of eight. I might have known her mother, her father. I would have driven her directly to the hospital myself.

  In this case, I had to give Sarah over to the proper authorities. I had to let her go.

  The three of us sat in the fire engine for several minutes, inhaling, and counting our blessings. Dillon had mentioned, days before, that they hadn’t had a proper call in several months, nothing more than the occasional accident on the highway.

  “It’s the heat. Must be,” Dillon affirmed then, shaking his head. “Got everyone acting crazy, it does. I can feel it in the air. The other day, left the tap on in the shower for over an hour. Almost overflowed the bathroom. We’re all out of our minds. That girl’s just like us.”

  We left the engine and undressed, marking time. It was just after midnight, now, and a fresh crew was coming in to replace us. The chief was seated at the circular table near the kitchen, eager to shake our hands, and lent me a final pat on the back. “First time seeing action in Indiana. And I’m told you did spectacularly. Taking the girl out yourself. Your own personal damsel in distress. How about that.”

  I shook his hand, standing a full five inches over the top of him, and then offered a soft smile. This was my new home. I had ripped myself through any potential bad dreams, out onto the other side. All so I could save that girl.

  “Will we be told when the girl is all right?” I asked him, my voice firm.

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to call my people at the hospital,”
the chief said, shrugging. “But according to Mason, she was conscious and chatting when they took her in. I can’t imagine she’ll be anything other than right as rain.”

  I thanked the team, shaking both Mason and Dillon’s hands, and then sauntered down the steps toward my pickup. I felt my muscles aching, perhaps just from the stress of the fire, of inhaling smoke. Certainly not from that waif-like creature I’d held in my arms. Cranking the truck down the street, I glanced around the city, at the bright lights of the high-rise buildings, the J.W. Marriott in the distance, along with the football stadium. This was a proper city, a place of possibilities. I wasn’t in Alabama anymore.

  My future could be whatever I wanted it to be.

  Once I arrived home, I collapsed on the front couch, grabbing a beer from the mini fridge below. Once I popped it, I took three long sips, before pulling the hospital number up on my phone and calling it. It was just after one in the morning, but I just needed to know. I needed someone to tell me.

  Was she all right?

  Had anything happened on the ride to the hospital?

  Was she still able to breathe?

  The emergency room answered. They connected me to a different area of the hospital, where the receptionist told me that—yes, a woman named Sarah Goldlein was admitted into the hospital, but no, she couldn’t tell me anything about her well-being.

  “But well-being, in and of itself, means she’s alive,” I said. “You can at least tell me that, can’t you?”

  “You said you were the firefighter who saved her life?” the woman said, sounding amused.

  “That’s right.”

  “Don’t you do this kind of stuff all the time?”

  I paused for a long moment, wondering why this seemed different. Why I felt I needed affirmation, immediately, regarding Sarah’s health.