Her Reluctant Wife: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance
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looked like. What she drove. Did she even drive? How old she
was. Where she was. What city. What day it was. Where had
she gone to school? There was nothing. She had the notion
that she didn’t just work here. There was something stronger.
A feeling of ownership. Yes, she owned this company.
Building. She built things. Structures. Businesses. Homes.
Dreams. She built them for other people. Never for herself.
She tried to remember any of the faces of the people who
worked for her, but there was nothing. Just a dark storm cloud
on the horizon, blocking out what should have been a clear sky
of memory.
She blinked her eyes back open again as fear took root in
her chest. She hated that feeling. Hated it so desperately. Hated
that she was out of control right now. That she was on her
back, at the mercy of a stranger. Why did she hate that? It felt
like more than just what had happened recently.
The woman’s face swam into view. A stranger. Was she a
stranger? Why did she feel a sudden tug in her chest? The
crush of something totally unfamiliar squeezing hard, cutting
off her air. She was worried, this woman. Scared. Her blue
eyes were huge. She was pale.
“You need to go to the hospital.” Her hands hovered
anxiously over Giana’s face without touching her. She braced
for it. Wondered why. “You hit your head. You fell and you hit
it hard on the tile.” She leaned forward like she was going to
inspect something, and a thin golden chain swung out from the
lapels of a wool coat, from the neckline of a blouse below that.
The sunlight caught on a small, glistening diamond set into an
ornate gold band. It looked antique.
Something made her chest constrict. What was it?