Chapter 3

One week later.

God, I wish I'd learned Italian in school. What was I thinking, learning German? My German was shabby at best, anyway—I couldn't make a sentence that made sense even after studying it for monthss. On the other hand, I had needed a translator half of the time I'd been in Rome. The other half, I was either asleep or using the hotel tablet in my suite to ask for what I wanted.

You'd think Misael would book me into a hotel where the staff spoke English. But hey, I was lucky to snag a presidential suite in any hotel at this time of the year. I couldn't complain too much. It still ticked me off that I needed to carry my phone everywhere and use Google Translate whenever I needed to—which didn't make sense most of the time. A few minutes ago, a woman had tried to tell me something as I made my way to the bathroom cubicle, and I didn't understand what she needed until I was out and I was being frowned at for not letting a pregnant woman use the bathroom before me.

I had wanted to run as far from Olphire as I could but I didn't see this coming. I'd expected a huge percentage of Italy spoke English. It was amazing how I only managed to run into situations where I could barely communicate with the other person.

It was a relief when the bathroom fell into silence. I finally had the chance to look myself in the mirror. I looked much better than I did a week ago, right after my marriage had fallen apart. My eyes were still a little swollen. I had tried my best to forget everything but even then, I would break down sometimes. But now…I looked down at my hand and slid the ring off my finger. It felt like tearing my heart apart and I shut my eyes to alleviate the pain.

My eyes stung but before I could talk myself out of these ridiculous emotions, I heard a sniffle. Was there someone in the bathroom? I whipped my head around and listened closer. This time, I heard it more clearly. It was a little girl crying.

What was she doing, crying in the bathroom of a restaurant on her own? My first instinct was to want to check on her. Had she been bullied? I envisioned a little girl curled into a ball at the farthest corner of the bathroom cubicle, crying her heart out. I didn't know her, so my urge to comfort her was insane.

This was ridiculous. I'd learned from a billion situations that it was best not to approach a stranger's child. But how could I bear to hear a child crying on her own? If my little sister was in that cubicle, I'd appreciate it if someone checked on her. So against my better judgement, I knocked on the door of the cubicle gently.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked as softly as I could.

A louder sniffle.

"It just won't work." A shaky voice answered from the other side of the door, shooting straight at my heart. I adored children. If I had any doubts before knocking, I no longer cared now.

"What won't work? Do you want to come out and talk about it?"

She didn't answer.

I waited. And waited. When I didn't get an answer after a while, I shrugged and decided she would be better off talking to her parents anyway. But before I could leave, the door opened, prompting me to turn. It was almost impossible not to react.

The girl before me was nothing like I'd pictured. I didn't know what I was expecting but it was definitely not the cutest little girl I'd ever seen. I was not exaggerating. She had the loveliest, large emerald eyes against her flawless skin, and long, thick, brown hair falling over her shoulders. Whoever her parents were, they had to be drop dead gorgeous. In her blue princess gown, she looked like she'd just gotten off the stage of a school play.

It took me a moment to find my voice. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "They will laugh at me again."

"Who?" I gently inquired.

She went ahead to tell me about her school play the following day, for which she would be playing Elsa from Frozen. She wanted to look the part but while she already had the right dress for the play, she couldn't get her hair into a braid no matter how hard she tried.

"Daddy sucks at braiding." Her nostrils flared.

I wanted to laugh but my heart broke. "What about your mommy?"

I felt stupid for asking as soon as the question left my lips. Her expression proved me right and I wanted to explode. Why did I ask? I frantically looked around for something to say and in a panic to fill the silence before she had to tell me something that would break her tender heart, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"I can help you, if you want."

'No, you didn't.' I scolded myself. I didn't know this girl. For all I cared, her parents could come bursting in here and yell at me for getting my hands on their precious girl. What was she doing in the bathroom on her own anyway?

Her eyes widened at my words, then she exclaimed in disbelief. "Really?"

I smiled and nodded. It didn't matter what her parents would say. That emerald-eyed smile would be worth it. So I had her turn around and parted her soft hair with my fingers. Within a minute, an adorable braid sat on her left shoulder, secured with her little butterfly clip. She looked at herself in the mirror in disbelief.

"You did it! I can't wait to show Daddy. Will you help me braid it tomorrow before my perfomance?"

"Uh…" that was not a promise I could make. I had booked the next flight to Olphire. Besides, we might not meet again. I thought of a solution on the spot. "It's not too tight. If you wear a bonnet to bed, it might still be good enough for your performance."

She nodded excitedly. Then she told me she had to go back to her father and asked if I could take her. I had already overstepped my boundaries with a five(or six) year old I had just met. But again, it still bugged me that anyone would let their child go to the bathroom on her own. I certainly didn't feel it was safe to let her go back on her own. So I bit the bullet and took her hand.

"By the way, I didn't ask what your name is."

"Rory." She looked up at me, expecting me to tell her mine. I smiled.

"Bella." I felt a little guilty telling her the sham name I'd been telling everyone for the last week but again, my whole life was a sham. It didn't matter. We wouldn't see each other again anyway.

"Are we friends now?" She asked.

I didn't have the chance to answer that as her hand was grabbed out of mine. I nearly screamed.

"What the hell?" I stopped when I looked up and into a pair of intimidating emerald eyes.

Rory's reaction confirmed my immediate suspicion. "Daddy, I look like Princess Elsa!"

He looked down at her braid. Impressed was the furthest thing in his eyes despite his daughter's obvious excitement. He narrowed his eyes at me in warning. "Stay away from my daughter."

Then he led her away. I was baffled. What a jerk.