She wakes with a start, gasping for air. The look in those green eyes is haunted. Terror reflects in their depths. She stares at me as if she doesn’t recognize me.
“You had a bad dream. You’re fine. You’re here with me.”
She pulls away, shaking off my hand, and sits up before hugging her knees to her chest.
I check my watch. It’s four am. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rocking herself, she shakes her head.
I reach out on impulse but think the better of it and lower my hand. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water? Tea?”
She surprises me by not using the opportunity to berate me again for spiking her tea.
Instead, she throws the covers aside and says under her breath, “I’m fine.”
When she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, I get up too. She goes to the bathroom and closes the door. I stare at the barrier she’s put between us for all of one second before I go over and knock.
The water comes on in the shower. I’m a heartbeat away from breaking down the door, but I tap into my hard-earned patience, which is no easy feat when it comes to her, and give her some privacy to find her composure.
No one wants their enemy to know the ghosts that haunt them. Still, she’ll tell me. I’ll make sure of that. Albeit now isn’t the moment. Whatever chased her in her sleep is still too raw. It’s best to wait until she’s not so shaken.
I turn away from the bathroom and get a T-shirt and exercise shorts from the dresser. As I’m awake, I may as well hit the hotel gym to blow off some steam.
A long run on the treadmill and a strenuous workout later, I return to find Tatiana in the lounge. She’s dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings, standing in front of the window and staring at the lightening sky while clutching a silver chain that hangs from her neck.
She gives a start when I stop next to her.
“You gave me a fright.” She drops her hand almost guiltily to her side. “You shouldn’t creep up on me like this.”
A silver Orthodox cross with red stones rests between her breasts. I haven’t paid attention to the necklace before because it’s always hidden beneath her T-shirts.
I motion at the pendant. “Your mother gave that to you.”
I recognize the cross. I never saw Melina without that necklace.
At the mention of her mother, Tatiana’s eyes flash with an emotion I can’t place. She takes the pendant and slips it under the neck of her T-shirt, hiding it from my view. “Noah will wake up soon. I want to get an early start at work. I need my car.”
“Your car is at the scrapyard. I told Ulysses to have it destroyed.”
Her lips tremble with anger. “You had no right to do that.”
“I have more cars than you’ll ever need.”
“That car was mine. I paid for it with hard-earned money.”
“It was a breakdown waiting to happen. I’m not risking your and Noah’s lives.”
“In that case, can I ask Reino to drive us?” Her smile is bitter. “Since you confiscated my purse, we can’t take the bus.”
“There’s no need to take the bus. A car and a driver will always be at your disposal.” The smile I give her in return is amiable. “As I don’t have meetings this morning, I’ll drive you. Give me ten minutes to shower and change.”
From how she balls her hands into fists, I can tell my friendliness only gets on her nerves.
Twenty minutes later, we leave with Noah and Jasper. The four of us take my car. Reino drives. Another eight men follow in a convoy. Reino steals glances at Jasper, who’s flattened herself against the door in the front, staying as far away from him as she can.
We have breakfast on the way. Tatiana still won’t put her mouth on any food I order from room service. At the property where she works, the men check the yard and the house before I walk her in.
I watch her closely as she hangs her tote bag over the back of a chair in the lounge. Strain mars her features. She’s still tense after the nightmare. Did she dream about the night her parents died in an explosion? Or do the events from after the attack torment her? She was a fugitive, pregnant and alone, chased down by men who didn’t hesitate to hurt her. Our child was locked in the bathroom while she fought for their lives, for God’s sake. I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of trauma the experience left. Clearly, the damage goes much deeper than the mark on her cheek.
