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Shit. The thought had seemed natural, as if flying to another country for the sole purpose of shopping for my lady was like chump change from a piggy bank instead of a huge investment. Given the expensive suit I’d arrived in, it would appear I could afford such luxuries. Even her lingerie was cheap, mostly nightshirts that had cute characters on them. While I understood she had a reason to be cautious in what she wore because of Dillon, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t indulge in luxurious creations.
I made a mental note when I regained my memory and my hold on my bank accounts that I’d take her shopping. Just before I closed the last drawer, I noticed a vibrator. Now I was smirking. At least she allowed herself some sense of relief, even if the bright pink toy was fake.
The closet held nothing of interest either, but there was a single plain brown box with no notations of what was inside located on the shelf closest to the rear wall. I pulled it down to the floor, carefully opening the flaps. Inside were a few winter clothes and a small jewelry box. I wasn’t certain many things could surprise me in my life but as I opened the lid, I was almost floored by what I found. Nestled under the lid of the small white box was a ballerina.
A tiny mirror was located in the lid, the faded pink satin interior accentuating the trim on the tutu worn by the small creation. There was a wind-up mechanism in the back and I twisted it carefully, sitting down as the music began to play. I’d seen one of these before, although I had no clue if it was something that belonged to a member of a family or a friend. There were a couple of pictures inside, including one of a young girl pictured with a man and a woman.
And there was no doubt the young girl was Georgia. As I flipped the old, printed photo over, I shook my head.
‘Charity, Mom and Dad’ as well as the date was written in purple ink on the back.
“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Georgia’s voice was trembling from anger and the same terror I’d heard. I lifted my head, studying her pensive, flushed face. When I said nothing, she dropped to her knees where she was, crawling toward me. I allowed her to yank the box from my hand, watching the myriad dysfunctional emotions crossing her face.
But one remained present. Absolute terror.
I’d discovered her secret, which meant whoever was hunting her could as well.
“You had no right. None. These are my things. Mine. Do you hear me?” She was becoming hysterical, tears sliding down both sides of her face. She dropped the jewelry box, the few items inside spilling out.
Her horror increased when a ring tumbled to the floor between my bent legs. I reached it first, holding it into the ugly fluorescent lighting. An engagement ring, the rock at least four carats if not more.
“Give that back to me!” She tried to snatch it from my hand, but I refused to allow her to do so, holding it above my head.
“Not until you tell me what happened to you and why you’re running.”
“I hate you. Get out of my house. Get out. You’re not welcome here.”
As she’d done before, she issued a hard crack of her palm against my face. This time, I’d been prepared for her assault, grabbing both her wrists immediately afterward.
“Let go of me. Let go!” she demanded.
“Not until you calm down.”
“That’s never going to happen. Get out of my house. Now.” She was spewing venom, her body shaking uncontrollably.
I easily held both her wrists in one of my hands, pulling us both to our feet. She wiggled and attempted to drive her knee into my balls. Thankfully, I’d anticipated her action, shifting my hips a split second before her knee had connected with my thigh.
“That’s not very nice of you, Georgia.”
“Who said I should be nice to a stranger I caught going through my things.”
“You know why I did. Don’t you?”
My challenge brought a hint of amusement, but she continued to struggle in my hold, determined to shut me out of her life. Did I blame her? Absolutely not. However, it would seem my instinctive personality was the first aspect of my memory to return in full force. She would soon learn that I would never allow her to toss me aside.
Not now.
Not ever.
“You have no right,” she repeated, coming close to screeching her demands, coughing as she threatened to break down into racking sobs. I had to find a way to stop the panic attack, or she could have a medical emergency.
“I said. Calm. Down.” I removed the frustration from my voice, trying to keep the tone soothing.
“No,” she hissed but there was a slight break in her attempted attack on me, her voice slightly calmer. “Why did you do that? Why?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”
