Page 72 of Broken Princess

As I start to hook the corset back together, wincing at the pull around my newly forming scar tissue, I channel how they make me feel when they look at me. With every memory of their eyes on me and the fastening of each clasp, I feel like I’m knitting myself back together. I leave the shirt off and go about unpacking everything I’ve bought.

I come across an unfamiliar bag and when I open it, there’s a note on top.

Phoenix, Sin asked me to grab some things for you today. Didn’t have the first fucking clue what you’d like, so I got everything.

—Nico.

Beneath the note is a large black box. It’s heavy and rattles loudly as I take it out and place it on the dresser. Popping the lid, I can’t help but laugh out loud. It’s full to the brim with an eclectic assortment of makeup. The thought of Nico traipsing through the drugstore trying to pick out a lipstick for me shouldn’t make me smile as hard as it does.

I root through the contents of the box, pulling out what I think I can make work and feel like a weight is lifting from me as I glide the foundation onto my face, masking the bruises. With every sweep of my fingers, the victim in me disappears.

When I’m finished, I’m transfixed by my appearance. It’s me. A version of me I haven’t seen in so very long. A tear threatens to spill over my lashes, taking my eyeliner with it. Blinking rapidly, I chase it away and a soft smile warms my features as I realise this is the first time in years that I have looked in a mirror and not been ashamed of the woman staring back at me.

I have a lot to thank the guys for. Not just for saving me, but all the little things they’ve done to remind me who I am. For helping me rediscover the person I buried a long time ago.

Movement catches my eye in the mirror, and I see Enzo entering through the door.

“In need of a caffeine fix?”

He doesn’t speak, but he crosses the room and takes a seat on the sofa, tapping the seat next to him. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it feels like he’s making an effort. I sit beside him, and he flicks on the TV. Before I can suggest anything, he’s already selected a period drama we haven’t watched before, and I can’t stop the broad grin that plasters itself across my face.

I sink into his side, and we enjoy the ramblings of a self-sacrificing Georgian socialite and her embittered sea captain.

“This is our secret, little warrior.”

“If you say so, Zo,” I say, unable to stifle my giggle. “Just remember, we can all see the watch history on your profile. How do you think I find half of my watchlist?”

“Fuck,” he says with mock indignation, but I can see a smile peeking through. One that’s meant just for me.

By the time the film finishes, we’re not far off needing to regroup, but Zo is up and crossing to my bed. “Have you read this yet?” he asks, picking up the discarded file and returning, holding it out to me.

I blow out a slow breath, steadying my nerves and shake my head.

“I think you need to read it. I’ll stay with you if you want.”

I stand and slowly reach out and take it from him. “I think I need to do this on my own.” If he stays, I know I’ll fall apart.

He nods and as he turns to leave, my hand stops him, entwining my fingers in his. He stops and turns. We don’t need words. I reach a hand to cup his face and he leans into it, absorbing my touch and visibly relaxing before me and closing his eyes.

I take advantage of my opportunity and reach up on my tiptoes, pulling him down to meet me. As I press my lips to his I lean into the softness of them, and I feel the most overwhelming sense of belonging. I don’t paw at him or try to devour him. We don’t escalate, we simply sink into the taste of each other. Sweet and delicate, delicious and addictive.

A gentle hum rumbles from his throat as he steals my breath and slides his tongue against the seam of my lips. I surrender to him and am lost to our tangled breaths and gentle moans. I can feel the moment he hesitates, his doubts overtaking his desire as his lips still and he pulls away leaving me bereft. His brow is drawn, like he’s wrestling with himself.

“You are a truly spectacular woman, Aurora.” He sweeps a stray tendril back, anchoring it behind my shoulder.

“And you are worthy, Enzo.”

He hugs me and kisses my forehead as he lingers. I could swear he’s inhaling me, which should be odd, but I’m doing the same thing. My head tucked into his broad chest, brazenly inhaling his scent and letting it engulf me. One day I’ll figure out what it is he smells of, but right now it makes me think of floating down a river in a forest. Clean and fresh with dark woodsy undertones. It’s uniquely him and I find it soothes every part of my soul. There’s no one I feel more at peace with.

He slips out of the room, and I take a deep breath before I open the file in front of me. I don’t think it’s possible to prepare yourself adequately to see someone you love reduced to cold words and photos of their naked body on a slab. I can’t stop the tears that flow, or the aching realisation of the torment Isa was subjected to in her final days.

The anguish flows through me like a torrent of rain, finding the path of least resistance as it demolishes the last of my remaining emotional barriers.

I cry until my eyes run dry and then I return to the mirror. Seeing myself broken, but also seeing myself enlightened. I set to work righting the mess I’ve made, and brushstroke by brushstroke I don’t rebuild myself, I discover myself.

Time to get my game face on.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

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