but he was a real man who didn't succumb to using extortion and terror for the simple caprice of always having to get his way. The sympathetic, tall, and muscled brown-haired bodyguard was my best friend—my only friend. He was also the single source of comfort and protection I had left.
Although his feelings for me ran much deeper than friendship, I was too damaged to even consider entering a relationship in the midst of the hell that was my marriage. As it was, right now I had to focus on something much more important because time wasn't working to my advantage. If I didn't think of something soon, I'd end up losing the most precious thing that had ever happened to me.
When we left the hospital, the reporters were still there, but this time I was prepared and made sure they didn’t witness my fear. Something about seeing Alessandro tied to that bed gave me strength.
During the ride home, it had stopped raining and there was sunshine by the time the car pulled into the driveway. After thanking Broderick one last time, I entered the house and strolled past Henry whose eyes followed me like a hawk. It was clear he was still seething with suppressed anger, but he didn’t say a word. I turned my head in his direction and smirked with slow precision. The ninth circle of hell might have been mere seconds away, but I was about to take advantage of this hard earned moment of freedom.
Henry's tongue remained tied, and he just glared as I sauntered toward the living room. Glare away!...my eyes responded in proud silence. Although this man hadn't been unconscious and tied to a bedpost, I refused to back down like a frightened animal, despite the undeniable fact there were numerous occasions he had seen me do just that. The way his unmoving stare prickled my back told me he must have been shocked by my unexpected behavior and by my nerve to catch him unprepared and hit him where it hurt the most. The very fact he had cleared every piece of shattered glass that was scattered all over the floor told me I had him backed into a corner. In five long years, this was the first time Henry Wyatt acknowledged my demands.
Satisfied with the scene I had encountered, I headed upstairs to my bedroom. The moment I entered, I leaned against the door and took in a few deep breaths. Then, I removed my clothes and strode into the adjoining bathroom to take a shower. More often than not, I avoided my reflection, but today I couldn't help myself and met my own gaze in the mirror. I traced the hidden scars and bruises on my thin body, removing strands of dark hair out of the way.
Though I wanted to believe in the strength and confidence my posture emanated on the surface, it was only a façade that kept me from going completely insane. As I looked deeper into the depths of my eyes, I saw myself for what I truly was; for what he intended me to be—broken.
Like the rest of the people who lie to themselves, the truth made me angry. Rejecting the persistent self-pity that wanted to rise and take control like it had on more than one occasion during the past few years, my reflection in the mirror suddenly bit out an order with such relentless determination that made me snap out of the trance and pull myself together. “You're going to heal! You're going to be okay!”
Looking away, I ambled into the shower and immersed myself under a hot stream of water that pricked my chilled skin. Closing my eyes, I repeated the familiar mantra... You have to be strong. You can't let him win. You have to survive this.
I sank to the floor and rested my head against my knees, enjoying these rare moments of calmness. A part of me still reacted to every unexpected sound, as if anticipating a dark figure would barge through the door and steal the peace in an instant. But, in reality, I knew he couldn't resurrect from that bed and get to me today. I knew I had some kind of time frame in which I was safe.
When I tiptoed back into the room, it was raining again. Drawn by the sounds of the storm, I walked toward the window. The weather outside was menacing and strange, and it made me think of the worst day of my