Page 10 of Protecting Olivia

Wow, he had a great smile. Straight white teeth and full lips. Of course, he would. He reminded me of a superhero. Aren’t all superheroes in the movies good looking?

Before I could tell him I could walk, he swept me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I should’ve protested, but I didn’t. Instead, I burrowed in and enjoyed the feeling.

I was safe.

The door closed behind us, and Leo set me down on the lid of the toilet. The sound of the door clicking shut had my body locking tight. My fists clenched and an unexplainable fear ripped through my body. The safety I’d felt in Leo’s arms moments before vanished and I was transported back to being locked in a filthy room. I hated the metallic sound of the door latching, closing me in, holding me prisoner.

I couldn’t breathe, and the harder I tried, the less air actually made it to my lungs.

“Slow down, tesorino. Slow breaths,” Leo instructed.

I couldn’t. The panic wouldn’t subside.

“Olivia! Slow your breathing.” Leo grabbed my good hand and pressed it against his chest, his tactical vest hard under my hand. “Breathe with me.”

I could feel him take a deep breath and blow it out. I tried to inhale with his next breath.

“Good. Now do it again. In and out, slowly, tesorino. There is nothing to be scared of. It’s just me and you in here. No one can hurt you.” Leo continued to press my hand to his vest and breathed with me until the lightheadedness subsided.

“Thank you.” I sighed. After a few more slow breaths I felt better. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what happened.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. You had a panic attack, and it is normal. It’ll happen again, you need to be prepared for it, and remember when it starts to slow your breathing or you’ll pass out.”

How embarrassing – a panic attack. I had never in my life had one before.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. I know better than to shut a victim in a room with a stranger,” he continued.

Victim.

That’s what he thought of me as. I was the hostage, he was the rescuer brought in to save the victim. How stupid was I to think that he was some personal superhero? Like he had any connection to me at all. I was a job, and that was it. I’m sure my mom asked Mrs. Anderson to pull some strings to find me.

I needed my mom.

I wanted her to hold me, she would wrap me in her arms and make me safe. She was the only person in the world who loved me and took care of me. I had never met my dad – he died before I was born. We left Paris when I was a baby to be closer to my grandparents because she had no one. My mom never remarried. She never even dated. It was bittersweet; she said she loved my dad so much no man could ever fill the hole in her heart he left. To this day she says she is still very much in love with him. I hoped I would find that one day, a love so strong that even in death it is still alive.

“I’m fine now. I can clean up by myself.” That might’ve come out a little harsher than I wanted, but this man was not my knight in shining armor, and I couldn’t think of him as such. I was being ridiculous and wouldn’t allow myself to get attached to him.

“Where did you just go, tesorino?” he asked.

Those green eyes were studying me again. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d be as easy to lie to as the college boys I was used to. With them, it was easy to play dumb; they weren’t as observant and easy to outsmart. This man was all man – sharp and watchful.

“Why do you keep calling me tesorino? What does it mean?” I asked, needing to change the subject. I knew it was Italian, but it had been a long time since my language lessons, and I was pretty rusty.

“It means sweetheart.” He reached his hand down. “Come on, up you go. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sweetheart? Why on earth was he calling me sweetheart?

Leo helped me stand; once I was at the sink I could balance myself enough to brush my teeth and wash my face. My hair was a different story.

“I’m sorry to ask, but can you help me with my hair? I don’t know how to wash it in this tiny sink.”

The small pedestal sink made it impossible for me to flip my hair in the basin and wash it and there was no bathtub to lean over. There was only a small utilitarian shower stall.

Leo looked around the small space, seemingly studying his options. I was about to tell him to forget it, maybe if I just brushed my hair that would get most of the dried puke out. It wouldn’t help with the smell. However, it was better than nothing.

“Do you trust me, Olivia? Really and truly trust me?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. He’d been nothing but nice to me. He obviously worked for or had worked for the government at some point. Not that that made him trustworthy.