"You're hiding." Gloria takes a sip of her tea. "This isn't you. Since when does Jade Sinclair retreat?"
"Since someone tried to drown me and then sent me a note calling me 'Little Doll,'" I counter, unable to say those two words without a shiver running down my spine.
Gloria's expression softens. "I know you're scared. That's why they're here."
"They're here because youinvited them without consulting me."
"Because you would have said no."
"And that should have been my choice!"
The words hang between us, louder than I intended. Gloria doesn't flinch. She never does, no matter how sharp my tone gets. It's one of the many reasons I've trusted her for so long when I trust so few.
"You're right," she says finally. "I should have talked to you first. I was scared, Jade. When I saw that note..." She sets her cup down, and I notice the slight tremor in her hand. "I thought we were past this. I thought when he died, it was over."
I close my eyes briefly at the mention of him. Charles Mercer. The scout who "discovered" me at twelve. The man who became my manager. My abuser by fourteen. The one who called me his "Little Doll" when no one else could hear.
"Someone knows, Gloria. Someone knows what he called me."
"That's why I called Cross Security. The detective who investigated your attack recommended them specifically, said they handle high-profile cases with discretion and are former military. The best protection available."
I trace the rim of my teacup with my finger. "I remember the day you came to work for Charles. I was fourteen."
"Fifteen," Gloria corrects softly. "You had just done that Valentino campaign in Paris."
"Right." The memories blend together sometimes. "You were different from his other assistants. You actually looked at me, not through me."
Gloria's smile is sad. "You were just a child, being treated like a commodity. It wasn't right."
"You knew, didn't you? Before I ever said anything."
"I suspected." She meets my eyes directly. "The way he looked at you. The way you flinched when he touched you. Small things, but enough."
When I finally told Gloria what Charles had been doing, she didn't question me, didn't doubt me for a second. Instead, she helped me escape from the hell I was living.
Unlike my mother, who when I finally got the courage to tell her what had been going on, just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Do you think life is easy? That it is a joyride? Nobody is going to give anything to you. You have to take it! Any way you can! And all you have going for you is your looks. So, don't forget that it's the way you look that puts a roof over our heads, that keeps food on the table and allows for every whim your heart desires. So what if Charles wants to feel loved by you. You owe him that."
My mother chose Charles. Chose the money and the lifestyle over her own daughter's safety.
But not Gloria. She was the one who helped. She helped me file for emancipation, sever ties with my mother and Charles, and build a career on my own terms. EverythingI have now, the autonomy I cling to so fiercely, is because Gloria believed in me when no one else did.
"You saved me," I say quietly.
"You saved yourself, Jade. I just handed you the tools."
It's an old conversation between us, repeated over the years. Gloria refusing to take credit for being the one adult who actually protected me.
"Which is why I'm asking you to trust me now," she continues. "These men, they're here to help. To protect you."
"I don't need protection. I need..." I trail off, not entirely sure what I need anymore.
"Control," Gloria finishes for me. "You need to feel in control again."
She's right, of course. Ever since the attack, since that moment of helplessness as I felt myself sinking beneath the water, unable to fight, unable to breathe, I've felt my carefully constructed control slipping away.
I rise from the window seat, suddenly restless. "I can't even swim anymore, Gloria. Do you know how maddening that is? The pool is right there, and I can't bring myself to go in. Every time I try, I feel like I'm choking."
"It's normal to have that reaction after trauma..."
