I do not say anything about it while heading up to my room, and I wait for us to be inside to speak out.
"You can sit down," I indirectly tell her to stay with me, and I put my glass down on the table to get on the sofa. She listens and sits down on my right like she usually does. "Are you okay?" I take a sip of the champagne, my eyes scrutinizing her facial expression, her body language. "Yes, and you?"
I nod, feeling doubtful. For some reason, I do not trust this answer. Something about the look into her eyes tell me there is a problem, so I silently keep my focus on her and wait for her to make eye contact with me.
Has Owen done something to her? Gael?
"How did it go with Owen?" I ask, being curious but for a good reason. "Well," she keeps it short again, making me worry even more. "Well? Are you sure?" I insist, not letting this go without getting her to free herself from her worries. She nods again, refusing to tell me the truth.
Feeling like this will not be easy, I take my jacket off, lay it next to me, and lean forth to hold my hands together and fix my eyes on her. I do not want her to leave this room without talking about what is bothering her.
I peek down at her hands that are intertwined, and I check her skin, her neck, and her arms. My eyes stop on one spot of her inner thigh. She is wearing tights, but I can perceive some hues underneath, and not only there. On her knees too. The thing is that I cannot mention it or ask what it is, this is not a good spot.
"Should I talk to him myself?" I cannot handle it anymore, feeling like I might stand up and go up to that guy. "Why would you?"
"Because something happened, and you're not telling me about it, sweetheart," I stare into her eyes, but she breaks the contact right away, understanding that I know. "This is nothing, Mister Miller. Don't worry, please."
"I am worrying already. You can tell me what he did, I won't talk about it with anyone. I just want to make sure he did not hurt you," I do not give up, willing to know about what has happened while I was not here. "He didn't hurt me. He was just drunk and annoying. That's all."
"Why annoying?" I ask for more details than a simple word, always hating how lightly she takes this type of stuff like most girls here. "He wanted something again..."
"Something you didn't want to do?" I guess, but unfortunately, she confirms with a nod. "And did you do it?"
To my biggest disappointement, she does not relieve me at all. She does not even need to use words to tell me, I understand that she could not fight against him. I stay as calm as I can in this situation but feel my blood boil, and my heart speeds up. "What did he make you do?" I nibble on my inner cheek, discerning all the discomfort in the way she reacts to my questions.
"I did my job, Mister Miller. That's how I earn money," she fakes a smile, lying and pretending. "Let's talk about you, you told me you wanted to talk about something last night. What was it about?"
"That's not what I want to talk about now," I shake my head, not broaching this topic. I bring my eyes down to her knees and do not remain quiet anymore. "What is this? Is he the cause of those bruises?" I point my finger at them, but she peeks down at them as if she did not know what I am talking about. "Oh...no. It's not him," she brushes one with her hand, and my tongue runs over my lips.
