Free Princess, Without Cover by Courtney Cole Page B

later, she stood in front of him in only her lacy white bra and he stood with her shirt hanging limply in his hands.
    She dared a glance into the mirror hanging over the battered dresser, flinching as she came face-to-face with her unpregnant body.  She had become accustomed to her swelling belly and the absence of it was a shock, causing her to gulp hard.  Large yellowish-blue bruises adorned most of her torso like an abstract painting. She was a walking bruise.
    She was also surprised by her silhouette.  She had thought that she would be plumper than she was… but she hadn’t been hungry lately and it had clearly taken a toll on her. The twenty pounds in baby weight appeared to be gone and through the mottled bruising, she could clearly see her ribs.
    “God, Sydney.” Stephen stared at her in sympathy, his eyes taking in her battered appearance.  “You need to rest.” Sydney noted that to his complete credit, his eyes didn’t even flicker down to her chest and to the way the top of her breasts were peeking out from her bra.  He was a complete gentleman, through and through.  She was too tired to worry that he just wasn’t interested in looking.
    As carefully as he could, he helped her ease into her nightgown, pulling it over her head and tugging it down to cover the rest of her bruised body.  She sank gently onto the bed and carefully leaned back onto the pillows, closing her eyes.
    “I didn’t realize how tired I actually am,” she sighed.
    Stephen slipped from the room to grab a 7-Up for her from the kitchen.  He knew that she didn’t have the stomach flu, but it just seemed like a logical thing to do. He poured it into a glass and stuck a straw in it before he carried it back to her room.
    She was already asleep. He gazed at her for a moment longer before he backed quietly out, closing the newly hung door softly behind him.

CHAPTER FIVE

    A year or two ago, a biographer had approached her father, wanting to document his rise to power, wanting to put to paper the years leading up to the Randall Ross that the world knew now.  He had declined. Graciously, of course, because it wouldn’t do to give the impression that they weren’t grateful for public interest and support, but it was still a decline, nonetheless.  He had privately told Sydney and her mother that he wanted to wait until he had become president. Yes, he was just that ambitious and confident.
    Sydney rifled through photos in the small box that she had brought with her when she moved. It had been carefully sealed with gray utility tape until today, marked ‘Sentimental Items’ with a thick black marker.   She had always been the kind of girl who kept flowers from dances, love notes from old boyfriends and ticket stubs from great movies.
    She used to stick them in little ornamental jeweled boxes that her father would bring home from business trips or the big heavy ornate chest that she had gotten as a gift from the Ambassador to India. When she had left that day five months ago, she had hurriedly taken a few handfuls of these memories and shoved them in a plain cardboard box.  They were all she had now.
    Everything from her prior life was documented with pictures. She used to insist on it.  Her life was a fairy tale, right?  There was no reason to not want to freeze each moment in time so that she could look upon it later and smile.
    In the ones scattered in her lap, her parents smiled the same picture-perfect fake smiles, a beautiful blonde Barbie and a charismatic dark-haired Ken. Barbie always had her head turned a certain way, in what she knew was her most flattering pose.  Ken had silver at his temples, but was still a handsome, elegant man with power radiating from his ultra-white politician’s smile and sincere brown eyes.  
    Looking at her parents caused Sydney to cringe.  It was hard for her to remember her previous life. For the past months since she had left them behind, she had felt like a ghost… someone who had