My Escort

Needing Break

"Mia . . ." He's rattled. Whenever I bring the subject that lingers my possibility of leaving him he cowers.I'm his little trophy, his most precious possession as he shamelessly declares, and he won't let me go easily. But I want my divorce.

"I'm going to the country house for a few days." I pick my shoes and dress as I saythis. He's still up to his feet,watching me. "I need a break, Patrick. Far from the media, I want to be alone." I gaze up at him.

"We're gonna settle this when I come back! I'll write you a cheque so you can solve your mess with the investors.

Your bodyguard will be with you in the country house." He gets his phone from the bed. "Don't bother. I'll solve my own mess," I retort. He snorts."You're f****d!" he says as he scurries toward the dressing room.

And into the phone he snaps, "We're leaving. Tell Red to call me later. I've got no time to wait." He's off my sight. Red.

At the mention of the name my breath slides away. My life's a mess and I can't recognize who I am anymore. Everything is chaotic. A good shower and heavy breakfast is all I need.

I'm into a maxi dress, my hair in a ponytail, as I barrel into the kitchen. Patrick is gone. That's his style; coming and going. I hope Butler Lucas has had the cook prepare something decent.

"Oh my head!" I grimace.Reaching the door, I suddenly hold my steps at the sight of him standing near the fridge, uncapping the bottle of drinking water after a seemingly intense workout he's just finished.

The sweat smears his skin, his curly hair drenched, the muscles of his strong biceps rippling tensely, and that sexy Adam's apple tips as the water slides in his throat. My breath quickens.

How does a man look this aphrodisiac! Feeling my cheeks burning, I clear my

throat to announce my presence. My Bodyguard c***s his head stoutly,and oxygen finds its way into my lungs, finally.He caps the water bottle as he catches his breath.

"Good morning," I greet him, taking my stride toward the breakfast table. Don't look, Mia. Don't look! I try my best to avoid his distracting frame, a pair of grey shorts and black loose vest covering his reserves.

How hot! And his legs . . . Damn he's got amazing legs, strong and firm, a bit hairy, and the white trainers he's wearing adds much to my profaned imagination.

"Morning, Madam," he answers gently, his voice carefully guarded. "How are you

feeling this morning?" he asks. My gaze refuses to acquiesce with my previous want. I look up at him upon his touching question, and his face is apprehensive.

A small,grateful smile touches my lips at the worry he exudes over my state.It's the question I should've heard from my husband when I woke up.

But no, I get to hear it from my Bodyguard, and he seems utterly curious of my well-being.

"I'm good," I breathe, taking a seat graciously. But suddenly it hits the back of my mind that I might've done something unusual under the influence of alcohol.

Fuck! I didn't try to molest him last night, did I? I bite my bottom lip, my eyes on his. But no, I didn't, hopefully.

I usually don't have terrible drinking habits. I might've fantasized of him a tad bit from here and there, but doing something unladylike?

Are you sure, Mia? My face crunches as all the pieces fit together. f**k!

I pull myself together and say, "I'm going to the country house. But before that, I think I have a trip to Seattle." My voice is monotonous, proving to him that I'm still

the lady of the house even if he got to witness the sleazy side of me.

"At wht time?"He's still reverent,showing no sign of any retaliation from my last night's bitchy acts. "Um . . ." I wither under his intense scrutiny, the whiskey colored eyes of his staring at me steadfastly. God! "In three hours."

"Okay, Madam." He nods and wanders toward the exit. "Red," I call him gently. He whirls around instantly. "Madam."

"Thank you," I mutter, meaning it from the deepest part of my heart..

Bemusement is evident in his eyes, probably pondering the connotation behind my gratitude. "For saving my life," I clear up, suddenly overwhelmed with fear . . . the same fright I'm doing all it takes to forsake. "I'm only doing my job," he replies coolly. Tiredly, I nod. "Excuse me." He walksaway. Ugh! I groan mentally, rolling my eyes.

Can't he ever take a compliment? Jeez! "I'm just doing my job," I mimic his voice, laughing to myself. "What a piece of work!" I get up ungraciously; ready to scramble for food, which is what I need the most after my cup of coffee.

Butler Lucas returns from wherever he'd been hiding. "Breakfast is served in the dining room, my dear," he says in his worldly manners.The old man has been all over the fancy cities of the world, and Paris is where I stole him.He’s like a distant grandpa.

I smile sweetly at him while fixing myself a cup of coffee. "You know I don't like eating in there. Here in the kitchen the food tastes better." I take a sip nonchalantly. Hmm . . . I so needed the caffeine.

I'm not great with making coffee, or cooking, but I adore what I’m making for myself right now because the hangover is killing me. "Well then. Allow me to bring your breakfast right here, my dear," Butler Lucas offers. "By all means."

I smile my gratitude.

My hair is into a messy bun,my body into a light blue shirtdress with a white sash, and black thigh-high boots hold my long legs gorgeously. I put on the black sunglasses as I pick my shoulder bag.

Inside the kitchen Red is finishing his breakfast, stood up with a coffee mug while listening at the maid's giggles over something he's just said.

There are two other maids, but the giggling one makes me scowl hard. "Oh, they are super strong! Do you have a girlfriend, Red?" She rubs my bodyguard’s biceps, and he pulls out uncomfortably. But he doesn't move.I huff quietly in a seemingly annoyed disposition.

My fresh perfume is strong enough to announce my presence; that I'm sure of. They all turn around. "Um, ma'am, I—" The giggling maid stutters. Sophie? Anne? I can't remember her name but I think I'm going to when I get to hear it this time. Blonde? Are they his type?

My slyly attitude is on as Red holds my gaze. He was having fun surrounded with girls, wasn't he? Hah! All men are just the same and he's no exception. I say no word; I turn around and head towards the main door.

It takes a few seconds and Red is behind me as we near the blue Lexus LS; my favorite travel car.

"Morning, Ma’am," Bill, my driver, regards me by clutching the backdoor handle. He's a strong and tall brunette, around Red's age.

He flings the door open for me. "Morning," I reply gruffly, throwing my bag in the backseat, and slowly climb in.

He shuts the door afterwards. Bill starts the car and Red is right beside him on the passenger seat.

Silently, the car pulls out of the enormous metal gates of my mansion and the ride begins. The trip from Portland to Seattle is usually exhilarating.

I get to see the beautiful Oregon landscapes and cheer myself up while I listen to country music. But that's not the case today, because I’m feeling restless.

I'm on my way to seal my career fate, that's why.l have to personally meet Mr. Thompson and convince him to keep his partnership with MK,my fashion brand. He's my last card.

My tummy is tight knots because he can be an asshole just like the others. If he also casts me aside then I'll be forced to back down from making clothes unless I ask Patrick for help.

And I don't want that, even though I know fully well that my husband would be enthralled if I become a housewife he can finally support with pleasure. Imagining it, I get sick.

Seattle skyline springs into view about three hours later. I like this city; the water, the mountains, and its evergreen forests— it's all enchanting. I yawn, stretching up. "We're here, Ma'am," Bill announces after pulling over right in front of Thompson's largest fashion outlet.

Red opens the backdoor and stretches his big hand towards me. I naturally accept his gesture and eject myself from the seat.A deep breath escapes my lungs as my eyes rest on the tall building standing before me.