Page 24 of Shattered Reign

“Good morning, Signorina Henson, Signor Beaumont,” he greeted. His eyes caught sight of our luggage. “I am here to collect your bags for checkout.”

“Thank you so much,” I said as he walked into the room.

He neatly stacked our suitcases on a cart. I did one last run-through of the room to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind before joining Easton in the hallway. Together, we walked downstairs and made it to the reception desk.

Checking out of the place that I’d called home for several days had been quick, almost too quick. I appreciated the hotel’s desire to get us on our way, but it still felt as if I was being ripped from a place that had been, for the most part, safer for me to be.

Outside of my stalker finding out where I was.

My eyes were darting every which way as Easton escorted me out to the black town car we were going to take back to Naples airport. I put my seat belt on once our bags were in the trunk. He spoke to the driver for a minute before he eased into the seat next to me. As soon as he shut the car door, I grabbed his hand and put it on my lap.

To say I was nervous about what I would find when I returned home was an understatement. But if I had Easton by my side, I knew I had someone to lean on.

And that would get me far.

15

BIANCA

The engines of the private jet roared to life as Easton put his hand on my lower back to guide me up the stairs and into the luxurious cabin. My heart pounded, hands trembling at the thought of flying back to the United States. But here we were.

I sat down and Easton settled into the seat beside me before turning to look at me. He took my clammy hand into his and rubbed small circles over my knuckles. “We’re going to make it past this.Youare going to make it past this.”

I wanted to believe him. His words should have been a source of comfort, but they had no effect on me. Nothing was getting past the fear that crowded my mind.

The plane sped down the runway and ascended into the air, sending my stomach lurching. I squeezed my eyes shut as panic settled in. I’d been nervous when I’d left New York, but it was nothing compared to what I was feeling as we started our return trip.

Easton pulled me toward him and stroked my hair. “Breathe with me,” he whispered.

When I opened my eyes, we were cruising high above the clouds. It was peaceful up there. Several deep breaths allowed me to rest my head on Easton’s shoulder as the tension slowly left my body.

Easton was absolutely right. I could beat this, and having him there with me would be an added bonus. The path ahead might be difficult, but there was a spark of hope that hadn’t been there before. The one he had ignited. That I could now rely on.

The ride back to the United States was uneventful. Easton and I ate, chatted, and napped as the hours ticked by. The plane touched down with a gentle bump, jolting me from a light doze. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and peered out the window at the familiar landscape of Upstate New York.

As we taxied, Easton squeezed my hand and asked, “Are you ready?”

I swallowed hard but nodded. It was time to face whatever awaited me.

We made it through customs and climbed into the back of another black town car, and soon the driver he’d hired was maneuvering the exit procedures of the local airport. This meant, unlike the ride I’d had from Brentson to New York City, which gave me hours to prepare to leave the country, my time to prepare to be back in Brentson would be much shorter. I didn’t say a word as I stared out the window at the rolling hills and patches of forest, trying to prepare myself for what could potentially be coming.

When we finally turned onto my street, I couldn’t shake the dread that took over. The tension hit me in a suffocating wave as we approached my apartment.

This was it.

I was home.

Once we were standing outside of my apartment door, it took me a second to find my keys. As I unlocked the door, I was hit with a wave of emotion I tried to keep at bay.

As I pushed open the door and took the opportunity to scan my apartment, it was the same as I’d left it, yet it still felt foreign to me.

My throw blanket was still over the arm of my couch. My book bag with the things I took with me to my last day of classes was still resting on one of my barstools. I eyed the bottle of wine that was still on my kitchen counter. My nerves were shot, and it was taking a lot for me to not reach for it, but I felt a sense of achievement at not doing so.

Then it hit me.

It was me that had changed. And that was something I needed to come to terms with, in addition to dealing with my demons.

Easton turned to me and said, “I’m going to look around. Make sure we’re alone and no one was here.”

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