Page 17 of His Broken Queen

“No.” He pulled me into an embrace. “You're the last person whose fault this is.”

“If she wasn’t bringing me a cake on my birthday she would be at home right now.” I wanted to scream, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. “This isn’t fair.”

“I’m sorry.” He opened the bathroom door. “We have to go.”

“I need to brush my teeth and put some water on my face.” I let go of his hand. “I need a few minutes alone.”

“I’ll get us a few things to take to the penthouse.” He looked me over. “Do you want to get changed before we go?”

I shook my head.

“Try to be quick.”

Once he left the bathroom, I shut the door and leaned against it. My legs wanted to give out and my stomach churned, but I had to pull myself together. I went to the sink and turned on the faucet. The cool water offered little relief as I splashed it on my warm face. Brushing my teeth was no better. Each time the toothbrush hit the back of my throat, my gag reflex kicked in which only made my stomach feel worse. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When I glanced in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. My disheveled hair fell down my face, the black mascara had smeared underneath my eyes, making me look tired, and my lipstick was smudged at the corners of my mouth.

I didn’t know pain like this could exist, and I was no stranger to pain. I was young when my parents died. I remembered crying when I realized they weren’t coming back. I grieved for them as a ten-year-old child could, but I didn’t fully understand the loss. Not like I do today.

“Lu.” Romero knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t wait for me to answer.

“Do you still feel sick?” He flushed the toilet, getting rid of my last episode.

“I’m not going to be sick, but I don’t feel good.” I wiggled out of his jacket. “One second I’m cold, and the next I’m really hot. My throat is dry and my stomach aches. I want to lie down.”

He guided me out of the bathroom and to our bed. I scooted to the middle of the mattress and curled

into a ball, shivering when I closed my eyes. Romero covered me with the throw from the edge of the bed. I didn’t know how long I stayed there. It was probably only a few minutes, but time seemed to be moving slower.

Romero stirred around the room, tossing clothes into an overnight bag. We didn’t talk. His phone kept buzzing with messages. Did he already know who did this? Was this my family’s retaliation? Could my uncle have been so ruthless that he killed an innocent woman?

I shot up into a seated position and glanced around the room.

“Lu.” Romero joined me on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Who did this?”

“I don’t know yet.” He tucked the hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. “Dr. Caro is on his way up. He’s going to give you something to help you relax.”

“Did my uncle do this?”

“I hope not.”

The soft knock at the door startled me.

“It’s Gio and the doctor.” Romero held me close. “Come in.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” I whispered. “I’m fine.”

“You can’t stop shaking.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “Let me take care of you.”

“Hey, beauty.” Gio came into the room, with a tall, handsome older man behind him. “I brought a friend who can help you.”

“I don’t need help, but Stella does.”

Gio glanced at Romero.

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