When I look at her again, her cheeks are flushed with color. “There was this story. It was the only story Adrian ever told me about his childhood,” she whispers. “It’s the reason I fell in love with him in the first place. I suppose I’m just happy to find out that it’s true.”
“What story did he tell you?”
She hesitates for a moment before she begins. “He told me that he met a young girl in one of those motels. He struck up a friendship with her, and he learned that she had been forced into prostitution when she was thirteen and she’d been passed from man to man for the last three years.” She smiles a little, through the velvety haze of emotion shining from her eyes. “He was a teenager himself, but he was outraged for her. He hated the fact that a woman could be used like that, and he kne
