Strange.
She couldn’t remember anything at all.
She knew her name. Eva. And that was it. She couldn’t remember her last name. Her family, or what she did. Everything else felt like a big black hole, a leviathan eating memories that had swallowed her past.
Where am I?
Who am I?
She wasn’t in a hospital bed for sure. The room she was in looked like a private home. A luxurious one. The bed had four columns draped with sheer ivory fabric. Rich, dark furniture contrasted with the pleasant, muted tones of the walls. Everything looked so expensively furnished and yet it looked so…alien. She didn’t recognize this as her bedroom. Too fancy for her tastes—she was sure of it.
There were no photos hanging on the walls, only two large oil paintings depicting wooded landscapes. Across from her bed was a large fireplace flanked by two cozy high-backed chairs upholstered in fancy velvety print.
Her gaze drifted to a vanity mirror between the nightstand and the fireplace. She saw clothing folded on the vanity bench.
Eva scooted down.
Cool flooring touched her feet as she ambled to the bench to grab them. The clothing turned out to be a bedroom robe. She donned it. The fabric felt soft against her skin. It was a pretty one. For no reason, she just knew the fabric was silk. It was strange that she knew this while everything else about herself seemed to be a big jumble of haziness.
Who am I?
What am I doing here?
She tied the robe and whirled backward to face the vanity mirror. A stranger stared back. She blinked. My name is Eva. What’s my last name? And why did I think I had been hurt?
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her own reflection. She had a lush figure and pale complexion. Her reddish hair was cut just below her shoulder; it had been neatly combed but now was tousled from sleeping. She had blue eyes with an oval face and thin petulant lips. A curious face. She thought she looked like a startled mouse.
There.
She knew what a mouse was yet she couldn’t remember who she was. This not-knowing-anything was starting to bug the hell out of her.
The door opened. A matronly woman came in bearing a tray with a pot of tea and cups. She was wearing a conservative dress with a spotless white apron. She looked to be in her early sixties but she moved with the agility of a person half her age. The porcelain cups jingled on the silver tray. White plumes of steam billowed from the teapot. A smile broke out on her face. She sighed with relief. “Thank goodness you’re awake, child.”
“Hello.” Eva gave a tiny wave. “Who are you?”
The woman put the tray on a nearby table. “I’m Rosa. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess. I can’t remember anything though.”
“You don’t know who you are?”
“I’m Eva. But that’s just about it. Do you know who I am?”
“Oh dear.” Rosa was crestfallen. “Mr. Caderyn should hear about this.”
“Mr. Caderyn?”
“Liam Caderyn, my employer. I used to be his nanny. Changed his diapers when he was a baby. Now I’m taking care of his household.”
Eva heard feet shuffling by the door. A moment later, a man entered the room. He paused when he saw her. His face lit up and a smile followed. Eva’s heart stuttered.
The man was very good looking.
He was tall with a toned physique, broad shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. His brown eyes were pools of melted bronze. His sun-kissed skin contrasted with the white polo shirt he wore, above the faded jeans. He was bare-footed. His hair was midnight black, gathered into a ponytail.
“Eva?” he called.
God gracious, he knew her name? He knew who she was and how she got here?
“You know me?” She found herself blushing. She didn’t know why. Maybe because he was so stunning. Or maybe because of the way he was staring at her. He had dimples when he smiled and he looked as if he wanted to take a nibble and swallow her in one bite.
“Rosa, would you excuse us?” he asked. He had a deep, dulcet voice, dripping with authority.
The woman waved. “Sure, sure. Call me if you need anything.” She shuffled to the door and closed it.
“How are you feeling?” the man asked. “You should stay in bed. You’re still unwell.”
“I feel pretty good. I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
He furrowed his lush brows. “What do you remember?”
“I know my name is Eva. That’s about it.”
“You don’t remember anything else?”
Eva shook her head.
“Let’s sit, love. Rosa has made you some tea.” He took her hand and ushered her back to the bed.
A sudden vertigo slammed her head. She felt dizzy. Probably from standing up too long. She didn’t know what had happened to her, but she felt as if she had been run over by a truck. Her hands and legs were shaky. She felt so groggy and weak. And the tea sounded like a good idea.
He poured her some tea into a cup and handed it over to her. She sipped it with delight. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
The man gave her a long, measured look before finally answering. “Eva, I’m Liam. Your husband.”
*
Liam didn’t know why he blurted out such an outrageous lie, but at the moment it seemed like a good idea. He knew her name from the medical bracelet on her wrist: Eva Smith, but that was about it. At present, the private investigator he had hired was working to find out more information about her.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he found her on the verge of death in his property. And how was he supposed to explain to her that his blood had brought her to life with no telltale signs of her injuries? A bullet in the head. Broken ribs. Broken fingers. Another bullet in her stomach and one in the chest. All miraculously healed within twenty-four hours. Besides, he needed to keep her within his sight. If he told her who she really was, he was afraid she would want to leave. He needed to monitor her healing progress. And there were people out there who wanted her dead. She wasn’t safe out there.
Eva’s eyes rounded, looking shocked. “I…I’m your wife?”
The problem with lies was that when you started one, you would soon need to begin embellishing it with more lies to make them stick. Liam gulped, trying to sound more convincing. “Yes. We’re newly wedded.”
“I don’t remember anything.”
“Clearly, you have amnesia, Eva.”
She shook her head. “How … how did I get…“
“You fell and bumped your head.”