CHAPTER 3
How does a man look this aphrodisiac! Feeling my cheeks burning, I clear my throat to announce my presence. My Bodyguard cocks 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. Fuck!
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 what 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 walks away.
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. I 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.
"Here goes nothing," I breathe, gathering my every courage while praying to God for some miracle.
A blonde again? I frown when a sassy Miss red lipstick smiles widely in the reception desk. And as always, Red's presence behind me doesn't leave the bimbos indifferent.
She's peeking at him as she greets me, "Hi, Ma’am. How may I help you?"
I want to roll my eyes, for she's definitely flushing, crimson.
"Hi. I have an appointment with Thompson. Can I see him? Tell him it's Mia Kingston." I try not to sound desperate.
Miss red lipstick's face falls apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but Mr. Thompson is out of Seattle for business."
"What?" I gasp, my eyes widened.
"He flew to Miami this afternoon. They're opening a new outlet over there and tomorrow is the opening," she says.
Holy Fuck! I mean, what the fuck is happening! My heartbeat accelerated and it's like oxygen is being pumped out of my lungs, turning my legs jelly.
I quickly rummage through my bag and fish out my mobile. I call him, only to bump into his voicemail. “No,” I think out loud, my voice dismayed.
Red is about to breeze to my direction, ready to grab my unbalanced body as he normally does, but I stop him with a dismissive hand. I can do it.
"When did he go?" I ask like a fool. It's obvious the asshole is avoiding me. Usually I'd be invited in that opening or whatever, but I'm not.
Maybe the Queen is indeed dethroned. I'm done for.
"Just two hours ago," Miss red lipstick says, batting her fake lashes.
"Okay. Okay." I nod, catching a deep breath.
What a waste of time! Fuck that asshole! He could've told me on the phone instead of making me travel all the way here! Bastard! I can feel Red's glance as I make my way out, pissed off.
We step outside and I wish I could ask Red to carry me. I feel weak, tired, and my head spins. Why is everything going so wrong with my life? I can't help but wonder, laughing at myself.
"Ma'am!" Bill barrels out of the car with a big, excided face, startling me.
Even Red looks startled by the enormous grin splattered on my driver's face. Has he won a lottery? Why the sass?
"Yes?" I stay polite despite my fucked-up mood.
"Um . . ." He grins again, driving me nuts from the expense. "My wife has given birth. I have a son! I have a son!" He's happy and I can now understand.
Aw! So sweet.
"Congratulations, Bill. Truly you'll make a good dad." I'm sure he will. He's a family man.
"Thank you! Thank you, Ma’am!" Bill purrs, holding his cellphone as he's still on the phone.
Smiling, I turn toward Red, whose face has a very distant smile due to Bill's news. I strangely feel soothed at the sight of him, but it takes only a fleeting moment as he immediately resumes the bodyguard face.
How lovely.
"I guess you'll be the one driving to Astoria. I'm sending Bill home to his wife," I say.
Without any question, Red replies, "Yes, Madam."