My Escort

Oh no!

"What? Talk to me, baby," Patrick urges gently. "I know I've been horrible but I

swear I'm not fooling around with anyone, Mia. I miss you like crazy.

You've

punished me enough, sweetheart, let's start over." Yeah, it's s*x that he misses. I curtain my eyes for a moment.

He hasn't touched me

for almost a month now. He's been in and out of Portland, constantly, and when

he's back we'd do nothing but fight.

I rise up from the couch; mentally beat at this whole charade. I amble back toward

the window, where I can see my bodyguard once again. He's right there, with the

mechanic, working.

"It's pretty late here I need to sleep," Patrick says, yawning soundly. Thank God! "I'll call you in the morning. Please get out of that place immediately!" he snaps. "I'll leave once my car is fixed," I say feebly, my energy suddenly drained.

I'm sure

he's rolling his eyes at the mention of my car. "I'll buy you another one, Mia. The same model as that. Will you stop using that

junk then?" he asks, his tone hopeful.

He'll never understand me. "Go to sleep, Patrick," I utter with an exhausted sigh, my eyes on the serious-

looking man outside, his sight taking my breath away.

He’s now standing up, holding his waist while watching the old man inspecting the car engine. "Wait!

And . . . How did you know I was in the hotel?" It suddenly crosses my mind.

"Red told me," Patrick answers curtly. "I love you, Mia. I f*****g love you and don't you dare forget that. Be good." He doesn't last two seconds until he hangs up. He knows I wouldn't reply.

"Red told him?" I feel perturbed, my gaze onto him fixedly. "Why did he tell

him?" I think out loud, and suddenly he looks back at me from where he's standing.

Oh boy! Can he see me?

I mean, the window is glassed but still . . . can he? His gaze is strong and intense, and I feel hypnotized.

However it doesn't last long until he's back talking to the old

man, and I take a deep breath. A good shower restores my energy to at least half of its usual glory. I take the

stairs down to the tavern and Marlow streams into my first view.

The place is

already packed and he's busy giving orders. "Lady!" he greets me cheerily as I near him. I smile indulgently.

"Did you sleep

well?" He grins down at me. I flush. I slept like a baby. "Hmm." I nod my affirmation while glancing around.

Some noises fill the air, and

so does the smell of breakfast. “Are you good?” I ask him. "As you can see." Marlow bows respectfully.

"Your husband instructed that we

should treat you with best breakfast we could possibly make. Will you have it

now?"

"Um, he said that?" I blurt out, a pang of disappointment hitting me as I desire

having my breakfast with him instead. Marlow creases a single eyebrow, amused.

"I mean, sure. I'll have everything good you make here." I force my enthusiasm. "As you wish, Lady!" he replies and off he goes. I take my seat on the empty table and try calling Red on the phone. But I suddenly

decide against it.

What if he doesn't want to have breakfast together? What if he

regrets everything? My heart tightens at the thought.

I don't know what to make out of this but the tray of warm breakfast draws my sullen smile into fireworks. Slices of fresh fruits, tuna sandwich, pancakes and

maple syrup, and a cup of espresso. Wow!

All my favorites? Red! I blush. I'm lost into thoughts, scrolling on my social media that's filled with all sickly

feeds about my downfall.

Is it the end of MK? One of the annoying headings

shatters my food-enthused soul. Maybe it is, I sigh heavily.

"Good morning," Red utters out of no where, interrupting my grief. I gaze up sharply at him, and he's right beside me.

"Morning," I return while

shoving my phone aside. Red takes a seat; looking . . . I don't know how he looks.

He's probably distant? I

can't even tell which Red is in front of me. It can't be my fake husband, and I don't

think it's my bodyguard either. What's going on?

"I called your husband," he says gently. The stolidity in his eyes doesn’t leave me

indifferent. "I have the obligation to inform him of your whereabouts; especially if

it involves your safety."

Yeah, right. I press my lips together before sipping my coffee. Ugh, it's already

cool. I place the cup back on the table, feeling indisposed. "He's talked to me already," I reply bluntly, and the tension between us is now

perceptible.

Red's mouth twists into a hard line, a small furrow between his eyebrows. But he

doesn't respond. "Is the car ready?" I ask, finding no other topic to discuss. I can't speak about last night, can I? It's like I imagined everything.

Red is acting as

though nothing happened, and I guess it's comfortable this way. "Just a few minutes more and it'll be ready," he answers, his eyes on his long

fingers entwined on the table.

"Have you had breakfast?" I ask him, for I'm already full and it'll be selfish of me

if he's hungry. "Not yet." He gazes up at me, his face deadpan.

"Well, I think you should. I'll be in the room waiting for the car to be done." I get

up as I say this. "Let me know when it's time to go." My voice is gruff.

Red looks a bit startled by my cold reaction. What was he expecting? If he wants

us to pretend nothing happened last night then so be it. "Okay," he says quietly. No Madam? No Mia? What am I to him this morning? I'm seriously beginning to

feel garbled from this nameless demeanor of his.

*****************

Marlow offers me his kindest smile as we bid him goodbye. "Do come back

anytime, Lady, huh?" he says. "I surely will whenever I pass by," I answer truthfully, for I indeed enjoyed my

stay here.

"Good." He grins and looks up at Red, who's still impassive "Take care of

babymama, huh? She's a good one I tell yah." Oh boy! If he only knew.

Red holds the front passenger door open for me but I choose to sit in the back. He's

surprised by this, but he says nothing. Shutting the door slowly, he walks toward

the driver's side and starts the engine.