Chapter Forty-eight

Alina’s POV

My vision blurred when I woke up and blinked away the dark spots in front of my eyes, trying to understand where I was, what happened. My body felt tense like a rubber band pulled taut as it stretched from my shoulders to my knees, but when I tried to move any muscle in my body it just hurt. It was like there were wires connected to all my limbs, some in my back, others in my legs and feet. It made it hard for me to sit up, so I had to lean against the bed.

“Relax…” I heard a familiar voice. “Just relax. You're fine."

"Mister?" I croaked out, my voice sounding raw even to my own ears. He laughed.

“From Sebastian to Mister, but I will take it” he said. His voice sounded distant, like I was listening through a tunnel. “You're safe here, we're going to get you out of that position in a few minutes, just let your muscles uncoil." His warm hand rested lightly on my shoulder.

“I feel trapped.”

"It's okay...you're not trapped." I could hear the smile in his voice. “You just need to lie still and everything is going to be fine." He stroked my shoulder.

The movement made my muscles spasm, which hurt.

“What happened to me?” I asked, ignoring his reassurances.

“You were involved in an accident while on your way back from work.” His voice held no emotion except relief. "You have been unconscious since then."

“How long ago?"

“The day before yesterday." He answered. I knew my heart skipped a beat at his words. He must've seen it in my expression because he added, "Relax...it’s over now."

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It helped, but it didn't relieve the pressure on my chest. There was still something heavy inside me. I wondered if this had anything to do with whatever happened to me before that crash.

I could still hear them laughing in my head. I felt their mocking presence and I hated it. The fear and humiliation I felt, and that feeling of helplessness…

I looked around frantically in a panic. The room wasn’t recognizable . There were white walls, ceiling that curved up into a high dome, and I felt like a prisoner, unable to escape. But it couldn’t be real, right? This couldn’t actually be happening. I was dreaming.

My gaze locked onto him again and he looked different.

“Brewthe Alina, your grandfather is on his way. He was here yesterday.” he said. I realized he was holding my hand , squeezing gently and rubbing circles with his thumb across the backs of my knuckles.

It took me a moment to realize that that wasn't what bothered me about the room.

“No, no, no. He can't see me like this!" I wiggled my fingers free from his grasp and backed away from him. "He'll freak out! He won't let me work" He didn't speak, didn't move. He just stood watching me carefully. I could feel his gaze on me. “This is not a time to worry about work” He said more firmly this time.“Alina, I want to help."

“Help? No!” I shouted. “You can't help me, this is between me and my grandfather.”

His features hardened into one of irritation “Why do you insist on putting everything off like this? I don't believe I'm doing you any favors.”

I crossed my arms “You’re not helping.”

His nostrils flared slightly, his eyes narrowed “We can schedule another meeting with the Frenchmen…”

“No Sebastian! you are not listening to me! No Frenchmen” My voice was hoarse now with frustration, the weight of my emotions pushing at my lungs.

He stopped. “This is too much for you, let's focus on your recovery” he said, his tone changing completely from frustration to concern. A wave of exhaustion came over me making me sag backwards. My vision darkened and I reached out blindly for something to hold on to. “Alina…” he whispered but his voice seemed far away.

Suddenly the darkness faded and I found myself looking straight at him.

“Water…” I croaked out.

“Shhh, breathe Alina,” He said as he helped me sit up. I shivered as the air hit me, goose bumps prickling across my skin. I felt cold.

He poured water into a glass , held it to my lips “Drink slowly.” he instructed. I obeyed. My throat burned as the liquid passed my lips. I swallowed reflexively, hoping that drinking more would make me feel better than simply accepting the fact that everything I loved and cared about was gone.

“That’s it, slow down” he said. “Deep breaths and try to relax. I know that this seems overwhelming right now, but trust me. You will feel better soon.” I stared ahead blankly as he spoke. I knew that he was wrong, I knew that this was beyond overwhelming. I wanted to scream in anger at him. I was going to lose the company. I was already losing my mind with every passing second, and all this man did was keep reassuring me over and over again.

He sat beside me and we kept staring at each other, silent. Finally I managed to say, “I thought you were cold.”

He gave an odd little laugh. “And I am not?”

“I am not sure. Why are you staring as if you feel pity for me?” He looked shocked at my statement.

“I mean it is understandable, after everything that has happened to me in the last few days, but you shouldn’t care.”

He looked away and sighed. “What makes you think I care?” I looked at him skeptically and waited for him to continue. But he didn't .

“Well…” I paused, considering my options. Then I decided to push my luck and continued. “At least you didn't leave me here. Maybe you aren't so bad after all” I smiled weakly. He looked at me in surprise, then frowned.

He said nothing.

I was forced to say something “The French men, they molested me” I winced as the words left my mouth, afraid of his reaction. All color drained from his face.