Rubbing at my temple, I took a deep breath, aware of Sergei watching me. He’d been really sweet and kind to me. I didn’t know if that was part of his job description, but I didn’t know how to handle it.

I wasn’t one for a pity party. At least not every single day.

Today, a week after the attack and the questioning from Ivan Volkov himself, the pain of my past just wouldn’t go away. All the memories surrounded me, refusing to leave me be. The way people ignored me, even as a child. When I wanted to play. I was never good enough. Often left to read as the other kids couldn’t stand me.

My mother would tell me to leave the kids alone. If they didn’t want to play with me, then maybe there was something wrong with me.

No matter how kind I was, I wasn’t liked. At parties, I was ignored. No one asked me to dance. I spent most of my time standing in the corner, watching all the fun happening, knowing I was never going to be part of it. The shopping trips. I watched Isabella so often get invited.

I’d be close by, but no one would extend the invitation in my direction. If I asked if I could come, some excuse would be made.

In the end, I stopped trying to be involved.

No one wanted me. No one liked me.

I’d spend hours, staring out of a window, trying to figure out what people hated about me. Why I was so disliked, and even now, I couldn’t figure out a reason.

“Are you okay?” Sergei asked.

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t swimming. The pool wasn’t helping to alleviate my troubles. I’d stopped trying to figure out long ago why people couldn’t stand me and yet here I was, still attempting to find a reason.

I climbed out of the pool, wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked toward the doors.

Sergei was there, and no one else waited to enter the room.

I took a deep breath as we headed toward the elevators, but today, I didn’t want to stand with the doors showing my reflection.

“I’m going to take the stairs.”

“Aurora,” he said.

I stopped at the door and turned toward him.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

“I don’t know you, Sergei.”

“I know you.”

This made me laugh. “No, you don’t. You know what you’re told to know.”

“You can trust me.”

Staring at him, I truly believed he thought that. “I have to go.”

My hand was bound up so no water got to the ink that now stayed on my skin. Removing the plastic cover, I released my hand and took the stairs, heading toward the penthouse suite.

I couldn’t stand heights.

Sergei stayed at my back and knowing he was right behind me didn’t fill me with comfort. I’d noticed the lingering looks he’d been giving me over the past few weeks. They weren’t good. He was a bodyguard.