Ambassador

"OH..." MARGAUX’S MOAN SOUNDED THROATY upon waking up. Her head felt like it was breaking, and she surely knew why. Getting hangovers wasn’t foreign to her since she studied in New York City. In fact, there had been numerous times when she came home crawling from wild college nights.

‘Argh! Did I really drink that much?’ she asked before yawning and pulling her quilt up. The soft mattress under her was heavenly against her aching back. Furthermore, it had this delightful scent, urging her to bury her face in the sheets more. It smelled like menthol shampoo — fresh.

Wanting to sleep some more, Margaux tried to curl her body into her favorite fetal position. However, her back and chest immediately ached as soon as she rolled to her side. Thinking that the pain was just due to an upcoming monthly period, one of her hands unconsciously groped at her swollen breast.

"Good morning, cara mia."

"Good morning too, caro— Shit!" Margaux’s back sprung abruptly out of bed. Her view immediately spun upon sitting down. Thus, she moved her hands, first groping her breast and then her head. She then winked multiple times.

‘Oh my God! What’s going on? Did someone just invade my room?’ She gave the room she was in a slow once-over while wincing her eyes, trying her best to collect her thoughts. White walls, white curtains, and... a dextrose stand in the far corner? 'Fudge! Whose room is this?'

"You slept well."

Her neck almost popped out of its socket when she turned in the direction of the voice. She blinked over and over, hoping that the familiar man sitting just a few steps away would disappear.

"Are you hurting anywhere?"

She remained to gawk at him, forgetting where she left her tongue. Damn, how the man on the couch looked regal while sitting lazily on that chair. He was just in a simple shirt and a pair of jeans, but then, wow! She had always thought that his features looked a bit foreign, but they were still so different now that he was staring at her. He looked even more perfect than perfection itself.

"I hope you didn’t leave your tongue on the bed. I have no clue how to wipe that out."

"Oh!" she blurted, still terribly half-witted.

Then, as if she had forgotten entirely about her hangover, her eyes widened in horror as she flipped off the bed. She was about to stand up when another wave of body aches made her wince.

"Take your meds. It’s on the bedside table."

"Fudge!" Amid the aches, Margaux suddenly stood up, remembering something. Right! She fell to the floor last night. She was feeling low and opted to drink inside their cellar. She was about to go back to her room an hour later when she came across someone in the hallway.

Her memory was already fragmented after that. All she could remember was that someone was hovering over her while groping her... ‘Oh my God!’

She immediately stopped her trail of thoughts and didn’t dare continue. Instead, she looked down at the oversized, sleeveless shirt she was wearing. She was shocked beyond decorum upon realizing how the thin cloth barely covered her lady buds. Her arms immediately crossed above her chest. However, her action made the shirt’s hem hitch up and expose her bottom. She quickly pulled down the shirt again.

"Where are my undies?"

"Drink your Advil."

"I said, where are my goddamn clothes?"

"Bathroom. You puked on it. I washed it," he deadpanned.

Margaux didn’t know if she should be annoyed with the calmness she saw in him. His face was incredibly emotionless while staring back at her. Sure, he looks handsome, but...darn!

"W-what time is it?" she asked before wobbly trudging to the walk-in closet in that room. Her mind was ticking so loudly inside her head, forcing herself to recall everything that happened last night. Did they really just stop groping? What else did they do last night?

"Hey! D-did we have sex?"

"Quarter to nine," she heard him answer. Then he got up from his chair and followed her to the walk-in closet.

"I’m aching all over, mister! Just freaking tell me if we fucked or not!"

"Your mouth’s too pouty for a virgin."

Her hand froze after opening the closet door. How did she know that she was a virgin? Was that a confirmation that they indeed did it? Was that the reason her body ached like she had been wrestled? She immediately tightened her legs together, trying to check if something had changed in her lady bits. ‘Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God—’

"I saw everything, Margaux."

"Huh?"

"I saw every little thing," he coldly repeated.

Her back instantly jerked when one of his arms nonchalantly passed over her shoulder and opened the closet for her. Then, as if he read her mind, he pulled out a piece of clothing from the neatly folded clothes. He was standing too close to her back. And she swore she felt his breath on the top of her head. She shivered.

"Wear this."

"I-I..."

"Your pretty ass has no other option," he said, cutting her stammering short. Then, as if noticing how frozen she was, his other hand grabbed her arm and opened her palm. He was still behind her, and God knew how his heat was melting her every time her back touched his chest.

"Return it later," he whispered in her ear while putting the piece of clothing on her open hand. He held his fingers to make her clutch his… ‘Boxers?’

She abruptly turned to him, surprised by what he handed her and completely forgetting how close he was. As a result, their faces almost hit each other. They were so close! She could feel his clean, warm breath on her face and could almost feel his heartbeat with how her soft breasts flattened against his hard body.

She couldn’t recall how long they stood there, just wordlessly staring at each other, until her eyes felt heavy and she wanted to close them. ‘Oh, Lord. Why does he smell this good? This should be illegal—’

"Cover your pretty ass, cara ."

It was he who broke the magic and made her flutter her eyes. She was even stunned upon realizing that he had already left and was now back on the couch. He appeared cold and emotionless, even uninterested, as he had earlier.

"Funny. I couldn’t bear the sh*t of covering your perfect ass myself last night, so I didn’t put any on you."

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to digest what he said. "Did he just say that he doesn’t want me to wear underwear?’

"You got two minutes to wear my boxers and run."

"Run?" she internally cussed when her brain buffered.

"Yeah, run, cara ."

Feeling a bit annoyed, Margaux raised her chin and spat, "Call me, Margaux. I’m neither Cara nor Mia."

"Then stop calling me Caro or Amber. It’s Rome."

"What the..."

"Your time is running out. You have a minute and thirty seconds left. Run or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else I might just change my mind about hating virgins," he sighed. "You might not be a virgin anymore once you come out of here—"

"Fudge!" Margaux cut him off and wore the boxer down at record speed.

In a matter of seconds, she was sprinting for the door faster than an Olympian. She opened the door forcefully and then dashed to her room while screaming, "Thank you so much for saving my virginity! I owe you a hymen, Pussy Ambassador.