Page 13 of Dearest Protector
I’d never been in a situation even remotely similar to this one.
Generally, I liked people, and I’d learned how to mix with all kinds of them while I’d been dancing in New York.
However, Ben Blackwood and all of his gorgeous intensity was outside of my comfort zone.
I also wasn’t the same Ariel Prescott I had been as a dancer. I wasn’t that woman anymore. My confidence was shot to hell. I spent most of my time just trying to survive now, and I felt like a failure.
It sucked to feel this way, but maybe it was normal considering that my entire life had been turned upside down.
I took a deep breath and dived in. “I really appreciate the fact that you offered to help, but my circumstances are not your problem, Ben. I’m sure I’ll find a job. My choices are a little limited since my entire life was dedicated to my career as a dancer up until ten months ago.”
He nodded. “You were doing the lead role in Swan Lake at one of the most prestigious dance companies in New York City. From what I’ve heard from Katie, dancing isn’t in the cards for you now or in the future. Are you even completely healed from the accident? You got mowed down by a taxi. Katie said your injuries were severe.”
I couldn’t hide my astonishment. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that Ben had gotten this information from Katie, but it still took me off-guard.
I’d told him last night that I couldn’t dance anymore, but I hadn’t really gone into the details.
I shrugged. “I’m as good as I’m ever going to be. Katie’s right. I’ll never dance professionally again. The taxi rolled over my foot after I hit the pavement. The doctors were able to put it back together again well enough for me to walk and function without a limp, but my foot can’t take the stress of ballet dancing. Not now or in the future. The other injuries are healed.”
God, why was it still so hard to admit the naked truth about my future?
“What were your other injuries?” Ben asked gruffly.
It was a personal question, but I saw no reason not to tell him. “A punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, fractured ribs, some internal bleeding, and a concussion. My foot was the worst. It took several surgeries to get me walking again.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest. “So really, no other serious injuriesexceptfor your foot?” he asked drily.
I shot him a small smile because I couldn’t help myself. I did tend to blow off the other stuff that had healed and hyper focused on my foot. His sarcasm wasn’t the least bit condescending. It was almost like he was…empathizing with me.
I nodded. “Yep. No big deal.”
In reality, I’d nearly died, and I was pretty sure he knew that for some reason. He seemed to know a lot about me.
“Are you following up on any healthcare that you need?” he asked brusquely. “The accident didn’t happen that long ago.”
Because he genuinely seemed concerned, I answered, “I’m fine, Ben. Really. My other injuries healed, and I had physical therapy in New York for my foot. I’m not running any races, but I’m pretty active. There’s nothing more anyone can do. I’m not as fit as I used to be when I was dancing every day, but I’m alive and I’m walking.”
His eyes narrowed like he wasn’t completely happy with my answer. “You’re way too thin.”
Okay,thatwas blunt, but I sensed that he hadn’t meant it in a derogatory way.
It sounded more like…concern.
“I’ve had to be lean my entire life to do ballet,” I hedged.
“Notthislean,” he grumbled. “You’re obviously not eating very much. Be honest with me, Ariel. I’m not here to judge you for fuck’s sake. Things have obviously been rough for you since the accident, both physically and financially. I want to help you.”
I let out a sigh. He apparently wasn’t going to be satisfied until he dragged every bit of misery I’d suffered out of me. “I went through all of my savings after the accident. Luckily, I had health insurance, but I lost it after I had to officially quit the ballet company. Yes, money has been tight. Really tight. But like you said, it hasn’t been long since the accident. Things will improve with time.”
Hell, at least Ihopedthey would.
“I have an offer for you that will help if you decide to accept it,” he said. “Katie mentioned that you’re an artist with your photography. I’d like to see your work if you don’t mind.”
Crap!Katie worked fast. She must have had a chat with Ben on her way back to Sanibel Island.
“I-I’m not. Not really. It’s just a hobby,” I sputtered.
“I’d still like to see your work,” he said persistently. “I’m also prepared to offer you another job as a personal assistant since that’s where your experience lies. I guarantee that your boss won’t try to maul you this time.”