five.

"She didn't just walk into the fucking wall," I spat out at the boy.

He had the nerve to smirk at me.

I wanted to kill him.

I saw the whole thing. Noticed them at the end of the hall as I was heading back to my office for my watch. I had smiled to myself, hoping maybe Bella and her step-brother were close. Maybe they were talking about college or graduation or life.

Her body language was odd, though. Hunched in on herself. Far from the confident woman who told me to cut the shit and get to work nearly every other day.

Then I saw his fist connect with her nose.

Everything was red after that.

The hall was quickly flooded with a sea of men with headsets and Kyle, one of the many security guards of the theater, gently pulled me away from Tyler and took my place keeping him pinned against the wall.

"Keep an eye on him and call the cops."

From behind me, a small and shaken voice squeaked out, "No cops."

I knelt in front of her. Watched the blood drip through her fingers where she held her nose. My hands were shaking, but I managed to gently pull her hands away from her nose to see the damage.

Masen broke his nose a while back. I was no doctor, but I did know most nose injuries, unfortunately, liked to bleed. And bleed. I pulled the handkerchief out of my suit pocket and carefully pressed it into her palm and replaced her hands over her nose.

"No cops," she repeated, sad coffee eyes pleading with me as if she knew I would never be able to tell her no to anything she asked of me.

After another round of halfhearted arguments between us, I turned my head, barely taking my eyes off of her to talk to Kyle. "Find the rest of his family and get them out of here. Now."

I didn't trust myself to look behind me and watch them get rid of the punk. Violence had never been my go-to but as I watched blood trickle down Bella's chin a piece of me shattered. Irreparably.

Because I didn't need to ask to know this was not the first time her step-brother hurt her.

So many little moments made sense. The way she snapped at me when I brought up her family at our first meeting at the house. Her short temper whenever people second-guessed her when she knew she was right. She had this way of being completely confident in herself when work was involved but in the few non-work related moments we'd had she seemed so unsure of herself. Skittish.

Scared.

I swallowed back an immovable lump in the back of my throat. "Can you walk?"

Bella nodded, standing on shaky legs. I carried most of her weight as I wrapped an arm around her waist and got her to my office. I gave her an extra sweatshirt because she always seemed to have some kind of jacket or sweater with her when she was in the theater so I knew she ran cold, grabbed a fist full of Kleenex from my desk, and forced my blinding anger out of my voice.

It wasn't directed at her.

Never at her.

I gently reached for her hands. "Let me see."

Tears gathered in her eyelashes when she dropped her hands.

And I was done.

With propriety, with trying and failing to do the right thing, with living in a world where someone as good and innocent and kind as Bella ended up crying in my office with a bloody fucking nose.

"It's okay," I told her quickly, cupping her cheeks and gently brushing the tears away as they fell.

She squeaked out an apology that made my stomach churn.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Bella," I told her firmly.

I tried to cancel the show and she wouldn't let me. But I did manage to get her to agree to stay with me tonight. Because I'll be damned if she was going anywhere her family had access too.

Maybe they didn't even know her address. She seemed surprised to see them this morning, maybe they didn't even have her phone number. But I wasn't sending her out alone. Couldn't stomach the thought.

Especially after she looked at me as I stood to leave, those eyes still swollen with tears and her face so bloody and broken from the hit. God help me, I couldn't stop myself from gently lifting her chin and leaning down to press a barely-there kiss to her forehead. "You're safe here. I promise."

I filmed. Couldn't remember a moment of it as soon as I tossed my mic pack away, but the show was the least of my problems at the moment.

The drive home with Masen and Lucy in the back was silent. I had promised them both answers once we were home, and they had the decency not to badger Bella with questions right now.

Bella stood awkwardly in the corner of the guest room when I told her where everything was. I found her in the bathroom when I came back with some spare clothes for her to change into, flinching as she tried to wash away the dried blood on her face.

I took the towel from her hands, gently turning her to face me, and focused on finding the perfect amount of pressure that would get the blood off of her skin while also keeping her from wincing with every touch.

~illicit affairs~

"What happened?" Lucy asked quietly, five minutes into our meal of left over chicken.

My plate was untouched as I watched my children eat.

Bella had already passed out in bed when I went to bring her some food. I pressed another kiss to her forehead as I pulled the blankets closer around her and could have sworn she let out a content sigh at the touch.

Then came dinner with the kids.

Being a parent was a full time job. You clocked in the moment they were born and didn't clock out. Ever. Masen and Lucy… they were the reason I got up every morning. The one—two—bright spots I had in a world of black and gray.

I hadn't reacted to the news of their conception well, but I had spent the last sixteen years trying to make up for it. Show them that they were loved beyond belief and wanted. Cherished. I regretted a lot of things in life, but never them.

So having to sit here and tell them that sometimes the world wasn't as cushy as the life they had grown up in was hard. Sure, they were probably on the spoiled side and money had never been an issue for us, but they were also aware. They knew they were privileged and knew not to be spoiled brats about it.

Still, having to admit that the woman in our guest room had probably suffered a lifetime of abuse by her step-brother wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to expose them to.

And fuck me if my stomach didn't churn as I wondered how old Bella was the first time he laid his hands on her.

"I don't know all of the details," I said, my voice thick in my throat. "Bella's — her mother, step-father, and step-siblings showed up at the theater this morning. And tonight—I don't know the details. But her step-brother—"

"He hit her," Masen finished. Eyes on his plate as he shoved some potatoes around.

"Yes."

"Why?" Lucy whispered.

"I don't know. But I—" I cleared my throat. "I need you two to know—If anyone ever hurts you… touches you without your consent, if anything ever happens, you can tell me. No matter what it is, if you think it'll get you or them in trouble, it doesn't matter. If someone hurts you, if something happens, you can tell me. No matter what."

I didn't know any of the details of Bella's past with her brother or parents, but it was fairly obvious there was a history of abuse. That her mother evidently didn't mind.

They both nodded.

I threw away my dinner.

~illicit affairs~

Every half hour, I checked on her. Snuck downstairs quietly, peaked into the guestroom, and made sure she was asleep. Safe.

I had half a mind to sit in the chair in the corner and keep an eye on her, but thought that might be crossing some kind of stalkerish line I didn't want to get close to.

I didn't want to scare her. Or stalk her. Or hurt her.

I had come to the dangerous conclusion that I just wanted her. In more ways than was good for either of us.

My steps faltered as I noticed a head of chocolate hair sitting up at the couch. Wide brown eyes met mine from across the room.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, bottle of beer in her hand . "Did I wake you up?"

It was absurd, how seeing her awake and her usual self set everything right in my body again. As surprised as I was to see her already awake, I was glad for it. To see her eyes free of tears and face clean and clear.

There were signs, though. Little ones I had noticed before that I understood now.

There were no tears, but there was a shadow in her eyes that was darker than usual. More prominent. Probably why she was awake at this hour.

"No," I told her truthfully. "I was coming to check on you."

Her head cocked to the side. Confused.

As usual, she blurted out what I least expected, "I took a beer."

I smiled. "That's okay."

She took a sip, wincing as she did. Not a beer person, obviously. I sat across from her, unsure how to ask what I desperately wanted–needed–to know. But, at the same time, not wanting to ever see the woman across from me ever look as defeated and sad and broken as she had on the ground clutching her nose and fighting tears.

"You can ask."

I ran my hands over my face. "How long has your step-brother been abusing you?"

"Since I was about eight, I think."

Motherfucker.

"Was it ever… did he…"

"No," she answered me quickly, not needing any clarification.

It was a relief. But a fucked up thing to have to be relieved about. "Your mother?"

Bella snorted. "I told my mother about it when I was eleven, after he shoved me down the stairs and I broke my arm. We were in the emergency room waiting for a doctor. She rolled her eyes at me and told me he was just playing, that I probably fell because I was always so clumsy."

"You were never clumsy, though," I murmured.

"No. I can walk across a flat surface and not end up at the bottom of the stairs."

The image made my stomach roll.

"Your father?"

Bella shrugged. "I told him, too. But he had five other kids with his second wife within about eight years. He was too busy and agreed with Renee that I was just clumsy."

It wasn't… comprehensible in my mind. That a daughter could go to both of her parents, say someone was abusing her, and they just… didn't care enough to listen. Were too busy to listen. Sure, kids could be clumsy but ending up with broken arms and noses weren't necessarily the norm.

I looked at her, studied the way she was curled up on herself in the corner of the couch and knew that no matter what happened, I was screwed. In far too deep for a man who was legally married and too fascinated with every move the woman made to be able to leave her alone.

There was no good ending for us. Couldn't be.

But I was tired. Of fighting, of forcing every want of my own down for the good of others. It was completely selfish and irresponsible, but goddamnit I wanted her. Whatever little pieces I could get.