Chapter 4

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How ever much pride Franziska von Karma took in her mental strength and physical endurance, she, like her father, was mortal. And, having not had a proper meal in almost two days, she found that she was rather hungry. Famished, even. Though the American woman had had good intentions, Adrian Andrews' attempt at cooking an omelet had been an unquestionable disaster—and the young prosecutor grudgingly admitted that she'd never bothered to learn how to really cook anything more than the simplest of dishes for herself, either. She'd not had the time, after all.

Since, as it turned out, there was no food in Franziska's pantry worth mentioning, the two women decided to head out to find something to eat. Franziska excused herself, ducking back inside her bedroom to change out of her formal work attire—there were benefits to the weekend, after all. Once the door closed behind her, the prodigy sighed heavily to herself. That went...well, to be perfectly frank with herself, Franziska actually had no idea how that had gone at all.

Some of her worst fears—that Adrian would hold a grudge, or resent what had happened to her—had been alleviated, yes. And Adrian herself truly seemed better off and more stable now than when Franziska had seen her last. She was actually... grateful for what the lawyer had done, and the German girl would have been lying if she said that some part of her—all right, quite a bit of her—wasn't touched at the thought. Everything in her conscious mind said that the conversation and her apology had gone rather well.

So... why did she feel so vulnerable, all of a sudden?

My father needed a successor, but I couldn't live up to that... and I don't know if I want to. I thought... I thought that Miles needed his older sister, but he was actually better off without me... he doesn't need me anymore. Maybe he never did.

I thought that Adrian... maybe she needed a protector, someone to take responsibility for her and guard her. Maybe she did, four months ago. But the woman beyond that door is different... she doesn't need someone to take responsibility for her. I was deluding myself. She doesn't need me either.

Franziska closed her eyes, shaking her head to nobody in particular. Was that just it? Did I worry about her for four months just out of some pathetic impulse to be needed? Is that why I memorized the date her sentence ended, or gave Miles that phone number to give to her... or gave a damn about her? Was I trying to fool myself into thinking that there was somebody on this planet who actually needed me?

...that doesn't feel right. No, I know that's not right. But... it's the only explanation that makes sense. What... what else could there be?

She sighed again, kicking off her boots, for once not caring that they weren't in their specifically designated spot. Franziska entered her bathroom, twisting the dial on the wall that caused the nearby shower to hiss into life, streams of water cascading onto the porcelain bathtub below.

The young woman disrobed as she waited for the shower to heat up, hanging the various pieces of her usual outfit in her closet or putting them in the laundry basket where appropriate. Franziska, testing the water with her hand to make sure it wasn't too hot, pulled the curtain to the side and stepped in, closing her eyes as the warm embrace of the water and the gentle caress of the rising steam enveloped her body, washing away two days of frantic work and exhaustion.

Franziska stood in the shower motionless, letting the streams of water dance over her face, dripping down onto her skin and then to the ceramic surface below, letting it rejuvenate and calm her. I'm such a fool. She... who was I to think that she could need me like I imagined she did? Look at her now... she knows more about herself and who she is and what she wants than I ever have. Who am I to place myself above her like that?

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