Beauty in the Broken

There’s a small movement in Russell’s stance when I push myself out of the water, as if he’s about to move forward and extend a hand. He must think the better of it, because he settles back into standing on attention.

I’m not going to let Damian spoil my fun. I’ve taken the big step. I may as well enjoy it. Following Anne’s example, I stretch out in the sun, feeling the warm rays on my body for the first time in as long as I can remember.

When I get back to the house later, Jana tells me Zane is out jogging, and Damian is having dinner in town. Is that what he came to tell me at the pool? Who is he sharing his dinner with? He doesn’t owe me explanations, but I can’t help but wonder. Russell and Jana say their goodbyes shortly after, and I’m left with Anne and the guards patrolling the door and gate.

A quick walk through the house tells me Anne is reading on the terrace. My wet hair leaves a trail of drops on the floor as I hurry in nothing but my bikini and wrap down the hallway, but I don’t take the time to change. Quietly, I slip into Zane’s room. Leaving the door open a crack, I lean against the wall, taking a steadying breath. I look under the mattress and behind the paintings. I go through his drawers and closet. I even check for false drawers in the writing desk. Documents of such tremendous importance would be locked in a fireproof safe. A safe like that could be hidden under the floorboards, in the walls, or behind a false panel. The only place left is the bathroom. It’s an unlikely location, but I’ve exhausted all other options. With a last glance through the crack in the door, I tiptoe to the en suite bathroom. It’s smaller than Damian’s and the one in Anne’s bedroom. There’s only one cupboard with towels and toiletries to search. I knock on the backboard, listening for hollow sounds, but it seems sturdy everywhere. Moving bottles aside, I check the sides. Nothing. I’m about to turn back to the room when Zane’s voice speaks from the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter 10

Lina

Bottles fall over as I back into the cupboard.

Zane’s T-shirt is soaked with sweat from his run. He advances with menace edged on his face. “I asked you a question.”

Ignoring the impulse to flee, I stand up straight. “In case you forgot, this is my house.”

He clicks his tongue. “You were doing such a good job of steering clear of me.”

“Was I?” I arch a brow. “I thought you were the one avoiding me.”

He grabs me so fast I don’t see it coming. His fingers dig into the scars on my upper arms. Repulsion ripples through me.

“Nothing is yours. Not this house and certainly not Dami.”

The anger of where and how he’s touching me squashes any sense of self-preservation and fear. “Are you sure about that? From where I’m standing, you’re a guest overstepping your boundaries.”

His nostrils flare. The scent of his sweat intensifies. The feeling of it as he rubs his slick body against mine makes me gag.

“You’re such an ignorant bitch.” He presses closer, his drenched T-shirt sliding over my stomach. “You have no idea, do you? Has he hurt you yet?”

I flinch.

He smirks. “The walls are thin.”

I can’t stop the heat that creeps into my face.

“You like it,” he says, pressing me flat against the shelves with his weight. “Is that why you’re here, flaunting your half-naked body?” He pulls on the string of the bikini bottom that ties on my hip.

It’s a battle not to show my panic. Focusing on my anger to disguise my weakness, I swat his hand away. “Get your hands off me or Damian will hear about this.”

“It’s only a matter of time before it’s my turn, darling. Rest assured, when Dami gives you to me, your screams won’t be in ecstasy.”

He hurls me away from him with enough force to knock my body against the basin. A bone-deep pain shoots through my hip.

“Dami and I,” he says, “we share everything.”

Shaking with rage, I barely hold myself back from attacking him like a savage feline. “You’re wrong.” I wipe his disgusting sweat from my stomach with a palm. “I’m the one thing you’ll never share.” Damian said so himself, and he always means what he says.

“We’ll see,” Zane says on a snicker. “I know what you’re looking for, whore. You’ll never find those documents. Now get the fuck out of my bathroom.”

I stretch myself taller, ignoring the ache that spreads from my hip to my leg. Maybe the small responsibilities Damian tasked me with gave me a new sense of self-worth and a chunk of courage. “You get out. Until Damian divorces me, this is my house as much as his, and it’s my hospitality you’re abusing.”