.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 16. Invasion.

.Harry.

"Thank you for the flowers, Harry." She shot me a curt but grateful smile, lifting up her swollen face.
The way she said my name touched something deep inside me.
It was a wistful, appreciative tone that appealed to my protective side. In my eyes, she might be the last woman on earth who needed a protector, but I still felt responsible for her, and it wasn't pity what I was feeling, somehow it was something more serious, something dangerously close to the sense of guilt.

I still wasn't used to see the red and purple markings that were hiding her bright eyes. She'd let her hair fall forward to hide the worst of it but I knew what was there, I've seen it, and it made my blood boil with fury.

For a fleeting moment, her gaze seemed to convey something more. Probably regret?
No, I must have imagined it.

I was surprised when her friends called me, but not as surprised as the terrible news that no one was picking her up from the hospital.
I was feeling nothing but blame since I found out about her attack.
She was in this shithole because of me.

"Come on, get in," I directed her and she looked at me with a mixture between curiosity and suspicion. "We've got somewhere we need to be."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you in a second." I opened the car door and scooted on the seat, urging her inside with a hand. She looked at me with doubt, but sat down on the leather seat, sighing shakily and contented at the relief of being off the city heat.

"Okay, tell me now." She still insisted on the subject, and I smiled, searching for her eyes.

"First of all, this is Sean, Sean, this is Natalia," I mentioned, quickly introducing them as Sean flicked his hand from behind the steering wheel. "He is my bodyguard, and friend. He's worked with us since forever, right Sean?"

"Hello Natalia."

"Hi Sean," Natalia's voice was small but she still smiled to the guy, before turning to me and fading that smile into a tiny frown. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."

She was upset with me.
I could tell.

"We have an appointment, at detective's Tate office." I murmured now a little afraid of her response, then lapsed into silence. Maintaining that quietness seemed to be both the safest and easiest thing to do, but she groaned out loud and concentrated on staring at the buildings and stores sliding past the car window, her hair covering her face from me.

"I already said what I had to say," She wasn't even looking at me, and this is what I was afraid of. "I don't know what else they could possibly want."

"Well for starters, they have your personal stuff, I'm afraid you need to collect it." I replied to her, remembering the call with Tate, when he explained in a detailed way, what she'd been through with that psychopath, how she was tied down and tortured by that maniac. I felt a traitor shiver running down my spine, as the road looped around some intersection, as we entered the unfamiliar street in downtown Los Angeles.

"Listen, I'll try to make this quick and easy for you, I promise if you want, I'll take you home right away, and then you'll get rid of me." I offered, but she stayed reserved as Sean was moving to open our doors.

We were taken in to see Tate straight away when we arrived at his department offices, where we sat by his desk that smelled like burnt coffee. I was twisting the rings on my fingers, and I stared at the man as he mumbled a faint hello.

"Natalia, I believe this is yours," He handed her a zipped up bag containing her personal items, and she took them with her safe hand, touching her things through the plastic.