Read The Tycoon's Temporary Bride: Book Four for Free Online Page A

heard the faint
whisper of his name through a crack in the window on his right. He
moved toward it. “Tashi?” His voice trembled on those two
syllables.
    He heard a low moan, then, “In here.” It was
barely a whisper.
    “Are you alone?”
    “Yes. I’m sick.” She whimpered again. “I’m so
sick.”
    Sick . She was sick. He let out his
breath, and on his intake, the stench of seasoned vomit and other
putrefied odors he didn’t care to identify wafted up his nostrils.
Why hadn’t she called 911 instead of him? Sliding a finger under
the crack, and finding no screen, he pushed the curtain aside and
peeked inside. It was still too dark to make out anything in the
room. “Can you open the door?”
    “I can’t move. I can’t walk.”
    The panic, the pain, in her voice brought
tears to Adam’s eyes. “Okay, baby. I’m gonna climb through the
window then,” he said, sliding his hands beneath the splintered
wood on the bottom of the sill.
    Her response was another heart-wrenching
groan.
    It was a small window, but he was a man, and
since men always delighted in the challenge of squeezing big
objects through tight openings, Adam welcomed the scrapes and cuts
on his arms and legs and the splinters piercing his flesh as he
forced his frame through the window.
    He landed on a pile of clothes on the floor
and stood to adjust his eyes to the darkness, even as he forced
himself to ignore the stench in the air. Another moan gave away her
location and Adam made his way toward her, bumping into what felt
like a trashcan at the side of the bed. He swallowed the bile that
rose to his throat.
    “Tashi,” he called, making his way to the
head of the bed. He switched on the bedside lamp and almost fainted
at what he saw. Tashi was rolled up in a ball on the bed. Her long
auburn hair—encrusted with only God knew what—was spread out above
her head, and the pink nightgown she was wearing was stained with
human excrement, and blood .
    Adam’s heart dropped to the pit of his
stomach. “Tashi.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped down on
the mattress and gathered her into his arms. She was burning up
with fever. “Tashi.” He pushed her hair out of her face and cradled
her head in the crook of his arm. “ Cara , why are you
bleeding? Did someone hurt you?”
    “No. No. I—I have my—my period.”
    Adam let out his breath, relieved that he
didn’t have to go out and commit murder. “Is it always this
bad?”
    “No. It’s not because of that. I didn’t know
my fridge had died and I ate some leftover chicken.”
    “When? How long have you been sick?”
    “Since the day I met you. I had the chicken
for dinner that night and I woke up with a bellyache.” She sank her
nails into the fresh cuts on his arms and screamed as cramps
apparently ripped through her stomach.
    Her breath smelled horrible, but Adam pressed
her face against his. He spoke softly and soothingly to her, and
rubbed her belly lightly as he waited for her cramps to subdue.
When they finally did, and she relaxed her hold on him, he gazed
down into her eyes. They were hollow, almost transparent like her
ashen skin. The vibrant colors he’d seen in her complexion and her
eyes three days ago were gone. It was as if he was gazing into the
face of a completely different woman—her apparition.
    “I have to get you to the hospital,” he said,
easing off the bed with her in his arms.
    “No. No. No hospital.”
    No hospital? The girl was dying from
food poisoning and she didn’t want to go to the hospital. “Why,
Tashi? Why don’t you want to go to the hospital?”
    She started to cry, her lithe body shaking
from her sobs. “If I use my name, they—they could find me.
They—they’ll kill—they’ll kill me. I have to stay below the
radar.”
    “Who? The people you’re running from?” he
asked, caressing her arms and her back in an effort to calm her
down.
    She nodded as more tears poured out of her
eyes, ran down her cheeks, and into the