Page 105 of Entangled

“They hurt Cara.”

“Yes.”

Chris sighed, and stopped bouncing the baby’s seat as he turned to his boss. “Who would have access to those photos?”

“They’re accessed only on my phone and you know how careful I am with that.”

“But who would, boss?”

Gian had to seriously consider his answer, because he wasn’t sure. Yes, his phone had a pin lock on it, but if someone picked up the device when his back was turned before the screen blacked out, they could easily see inside and explore his very personal and private life. Beyond that, phones were not infallible. Anyone with a decent computer program could plug one in and strip it of files, locked or not, with the owner none the wiser.

“Whoever it was would have needed to have my phone for a bit, I think. Some of those images are back from after the bomb was set on my car, when Cara and I were a new thing. It would have taken time to grab files that far back in the gallery.”

“Then you’re just knocking names off the list,” Chris said with a shrug. “So, who was it?”

“Am I knocking names off?” Gian asked right back. “Because that leaves a few people who I spent enough time with to maybe set my phone down and look away, but that doesn’t mean I did or would.”

“Another question, then.”

Gian figured he was the one who needed to be asking questions, but he didn’t see the harm in letting Chris ask, too. “What?”

“Who would do it—do something that awful to someone like this?”

Gian scoffed, dark and hateful. “My wife. Her father. This stinks of them. It reeks of their kind of nonsense.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I have never left my phone within reach of Elena, and she also received a package today with these photos, or so she said when she called to scream at me. I haven’t seen Gabriel since before Marcus was born, and again, he had no access to my phone. It certainly stinks of them.”

“Except how,” Chris muttered.

“Oui.”

“Cara disappeared into the bedroom. I didn’t want to interrupt her, and the principe is fine with me, boss.”

Gian nodded. “Thank you.”

Unsure of what kind of state he would find Cara in, Gian headed for the master bedroom. He opened the door to see a hurricane of devastation staring back at him. Clothes strewn about the floor in piles, wrinkled or torn. Jewelry scattered, perfumes toppled over, and makeup palates crushed in a strange rainbow of colors on hardwood. White sheets had been ripped from the mattress, and glass from the shattered mirror glittered on the floor and the shoes that had clearly been used to smash it.

Rage found him standing there.

Shame screamed through the silence.

Cara, so calm and put together, so strong even in her weaknesses, had clearly broke under a whole new kind of weight. It was not lost on him how she attacked the things that accentuated her life, beauty, or image. Her clothes, perfumes, and makeup. Her jewelry, and the mirror that showcased her reflection when she stared into it.

It killed him.

Because she was so beautiful. Because she was so wonderful. Because in her heart, she was everything sweet, good, and deserving of love, adoration, and respect.

Someone had taken that from her without care or concern. They had taken private moments of her life, things that only he was allowed to see or have from her, and showed them to the world.

And how dare they?

Cara’s worth should never be tied to the acts of a bedroom, and yet, he feared they now would be for far too many. She probably knew it, too.

“Cara?” Gian called into the bedroom, taking a single step inside. “Mon ange?”

A quiet, choked sob echoed from behind the opened door of the attached master bath. Gian instantly headed in that direction, making sure to shut the bedroom door behind him.