Page 43 of Defiled Innocence

Moments later, when I’m settled beside her on the bed, she rolls over to face me, placing her hand on my chest. She trails a scar with the tip of her finger.

“You haven’t had an easy life, have you, Dmitri?”

I cover her hand with my own. If she keeps touching me so sweetly, I’m going to want her again. And she’s probably already sore from what we’ve just done.

“No worse than I can handle.” I sweep my fingers over the back of her hand.

My eyelids are heavy with sleep. Even though it’s barely eight o’clock, I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around this woman and carry us both to sleep.

“Hmm. The people who come to the center, they’re not having an easy life either.”

I pause, open my eyes to look at her. Where is she going with all of this?

“The work you do is important,” I agree. She pushes her lips together as though she’s not sure how to proceed.

“I was the one who found her, you know.” She rests her head on my chest and snuggles closer to me.

“Who?”

“My mother,” she says softly, like just saying her name brings back the pain of it.

“I didn’t know that, no.” I go back to stroking her arm.

Her mother’s death was hard on her. She’d only been a child. Thirteen years old, at a time when a girl needs her mother most, Amelia had lost hers.

“I did. I came home early from a friend’s house. I was supposed to be staying for dinner, but I wanted to go home. I could just feel something was wrong.” She leans up again, resting her chin on my chest. “Isn’t that weird? I could sense something terrible.”

“You were close with your mother?” I offer as an explanation.

“I was,” she agrees. “When I got home, I yelled for her, but she didn’t answer. Her car was in the driveway, so I knew she was home. Our cook wasn’t there either. The house was empty. I ran up to her room, thinking maybe she was just sleeping. She did that a lot when she was using hard.”

I tense, knowing exactly what the little girl Amelia found when she finally came upon her mother.

“She was in her bathroom,” she whispers. “Sprawled out on the floor in just her robe. She’d passed out and hit her head on the counter on the way down.”

I squeeze her hand as though I can transfer my strength to her.

“There was blood everywhere,” she says.

I recall the scene. It wasn’t just in the bathroom either; the blood had sprayed out of the door, leaving spots on the carpeting in the bedroom.

“You’ve not had an easy life either,” I say after moments of silence pass.

I’m not sure why she’s telling me this. Or why I didn’t know she was the one who found Marion.

“The center helps people like my mom, and I have plans to expand with a women’s shelter within two years. People need it.” She turns again, staring at me, but her features have hardened.

A storm brews beneath her stare.

“I need you to swear to me that you will never make me close the center. You will always find a way to fund the foundation soI can help women like my mother who thought drugs were the only way to make life bearable.”

I push up to my elbow, effectively rolling her to her back as I hold myself over her. Concern wrinkles her brow as she looks up at me.

“What is bothering you? I’ve already told you the foundation will remain funded. There’s something else you’re worrying over.”

“I know what your connection was to my brother. I know why he made me marry you.”

“What reason do you think Lucas had to make his will the way he did?” I question her.

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