
Tiha voda
God, Brock would enjoy seeing her humiliated like this, she thought, casting another suspicious glance toward the gathering clouds.
To see her limping down the road from the town on the idiot river to the house he wouldn't consider worthy of a dog, the rain pouring down on her, ruining her favorite silk Armani blouse. She could imagine him, perfect and divine, so handsome that even Mel Gibson would look unattractive next to him, smirking at her in his mean, superior way, like a spoiled rich man's son who had gathered all his toys and kicked the poor girl next door out into the street.
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