Chapter 5
1358 Words
Geraldine’s Point of View
I woke up with a jolt, my mind instantly reminding me that I had a flight today. I was about to sit up when I froze, my eyes widening at the unfamiliar warmth pressed against me. An arm was draped around my waist, firm and heavy, pulling me close.
My body stiffened. Then a sharp ache coursed through me, low and deep, a soreness that made me clench the sheets. Slowly, almost terrified of what I might see, I glanced down at myself. My breath caught. My clothes were gone. I was completely bare. And so was he.
“D-Damn,” I whispered under my breath, my voice breaking in disbelief.
How could I not curse? The man I had saved, the one I thought I was only supposed to protect, had taken something I could never take back. My virginity.
Flashes from last night assaulted me without mercy.
“Wife, please, you’re drunk.”
His voice had been low, almost pleading, but I hadn’t listened. Instead, I had kissed him. And then, everything had unraveled. Shame crawled over my skin as the truth sunk in. I was the one who had initiated it. I was the one who forced myself on him.
God, Gerry, what have you done?
I pressed my palm against my forehead, a pounding ache blooming behind my eyes. A hangover. Of course. What kind of drink had I consumed last night? It wasn’t like anything I’d ever tasted before. Stronger, sharper. It had stripped me of control, of reason, of myself.
I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and my heart nearly stopped. Ten in the morning. My flight was at twelve.
Panic surged through me. I carefully pried his arm away from my waist and slipped out of bed, moving as quietly as I could. My clothes were scattered across the floor, shamefully betraying what had happened. One by one, I pulled them on, each piece feeling heavier than the last. When I reached for my bra lying on the bed, I hesitated, glancing at him. His face was calm, his breathing steady. He was still asleep.
He looked impossibly handsome, even in sleep. For a fleeting second, I wondered what it might be like to wake up to that face every morning. But reality crashed back down on me. I couldn’t allow myself to be trapped in that illusion. I had a mission, a life waiting for me outside of this madness.
I dug through my bag, pulled out a sticky note and a pen, and scribbled a message. My hand trembled slightly as I wrote.
Dear Mike, thank you for the drinks I had last night. I hope your life turns out well, far from that woman. I’m leaving now. Goodbye. From your substitute bride, Gerry.
I placed the note carefully beside his phone, certain that he would see it as soon as he woke.
“Bye,” I whispered softly, more to myself than to him.
Once my shoes were on, I hurried out of the room. Each step made me wince, the soreness between my legs reminding me of the truth I wanted to forget. Quiet curses slipped past my lips as I pushed through the hotel doors.
Outside, one of my fellow agents was already waiting for me. He was leaning casually against the car, sunglasses perched on his nose, his expression unreadable until his eyes caught mine.
“Well, look at you,” he said with a teasing smirk. “Morning hair has never looked this good on anyone.”
“Heh. Let’s go, or I’ll miss my flight,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.
He chuckled under his breath, but he didn’t argue. I slipped into the car and immediately reached for the pack of wet wipes in the console. My reflection in the mirror startled me. My cheeks were flushed, my hair tangled. I scrubbed at my face and changed into fresh clothes, needing to shed every trace of last night.
“What happened, Agent Astraea?” he finally asked, his tone turning serious.
“I got drunk. Woke up late,” I muttered.
“I thought you were the type who never gets drunk. What happened?”
“I’ll send you the names of the drinks I had last night. Find out why they hit me so hard. Something’s not right.”
“Understood.”
I sighed, glancing at the first-aid kit tucked by the seat. Painkillers. Thank God. I swallowed a couple, my throat dry, the bitterness clinging to my tongue.
I had never imagined it would happen this way. That I would give up something so precious, not in love, not in commitment, but in a one-night stand with a man who wasn’t even my husband. A heavy weight settled on my chest.
“Damn,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Maybe it’s time I finally swear off drinking.”
My partner glanced at me in disbelief. “Wow, the legendary iron stomach is finally admitting defeat? What is this world coming to?”
I shot him a glare. “Agent Dark, when did you become so dramatic? Do you want me to smack you?”
He immediately raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hands on the wheel, don’t worry.”
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips.
“By the way,” he added, more carefully this time, “Chief mentioned a major mission coming up next month.”
My head snapped toward him. “Major?”
“Yes. A case many agents were eager to handle, but Chief chose you. Exclusively.”
My eyes widened, excitement sparking through the fog of regret. “Really? I knew Chief loved me.”
“You’re our top agent. That’s why he gave you this vacation, to prepare.”
A smile broke across my face as I nodded. “Looks like I have something to look forward to.”
“Make the most of your break,” he said. “Oh, and Senator Josh? He’s finally been charged. Still refuses to admit anything, even with all the evidence. But he keeps asking about you. He said he’ll do anything to win you back.”
A bitter laugh slipped past my lips as I shook my head. “They can say whatever they want, but no one can catch me. I’m a master of disguise. And he’s history. I’ll never go back.”
He glanced at me with admiration. “You really are something else. Was Aphrodite your mother, by any chance?”
“Who knows?” I replied with a smirk, popping the pill into my mouth and washing it down with water.
By the time we reached the airport, my luggage was already waiting, courtesy of the team. I grabbed my things, adjusted my coat, and turned to Skyler—Agent Dark—with a faint smile.
“See you when I get back.”
He gave a mock salute. “Enjoy Europe, Agent Astraea.”
I took a deep breath, the weight of everything momentarily lifting. “Europe, here I come.”
---
Third Person’s Point of View
Mike sat alone in his room, staring at the sticky note left on his bedside table. A slow chuckle escaped his lips as he read the hastily written words.
He reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Yes, Boss?” John’s voice answered almost instantly.
“My naughty wife has run away. It seems she plans never to show herself to me again. Find her, John. Find her before she disappears completely.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Mike leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting back to the note.
“Goodbye? No, Wife,” he murmured softly. “I won’t let you say goodbye to me. We made our vows before God, until death do us part. And you are my legal wife… Geraldine Filipponi.”
He smiled faintly at the memory of her drunken scrawl, the way she had signed her true name on their marriage contract without hesitation.
“I will find you.”
******
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