THREE

Flustered inside, I clear my throat to announce my presence. He cocks his head stoutly in response, and oxygen finds its way in my lungs as our eyes meet. He caps the water bottle and sucks in a breath.

"Good morning," I greet him, taking my stride toward the marble breakfast table.

Don't look, Mia. Don't look! I try my best to avoid his distracting frame, a pair of gray shorts and black loose vest covering his reserves. How hot!

And his legs. Damn he's got amazing legs: hairy, strong, and firm.

"Morning, Madam," he answers gently, his voice carefully guarded. "How are you feeling this morning?"

It's the question I should've heard from my husband when I woke up. But no, I get to hear it from my employee, who seems utterly concerned about my well-being.

"I'm good," I reply, giving him a small smile.

And then it hits the back of my mind that I might've done something unusual under the influence of alcohol. What exactly did I do when we got home? Clearly I wasn't at my best behavior, was I?

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 about him a tad bit from here and there, but doing something unladylike? No way.

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

Mr. Grumpy! Did I really call him that name out loud?

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.

We all have those terrible moments and I'm far from being perfect. Slowly I sit on the kitchen barstool while grabbing a glass of water.

"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. "For saving my life."

Just the thought of those men trying to grab me still scares the shit out of me. I don't know how my life's gonna be from now on, but surely I'm not safe here. And I need to get away before I lose my mind.

"I'm only doing my job," he replies coolly. "Excuse me." He walks away.

I roll my eyes as I watch him. Can't he just say 'Thanks" instead?

"I'm just doing my job," I mimic his voice, laughing to myself.

He's a piece of work.

Butler Lucas returns from wherever he'd been hiding. "Breakfast is served in the dining room, my dear," he says in his worldly manners.

Medium height, average body, with snow-like hair, Butler Lucas is my most loyal employee. 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. "You know I don't like eating over there, right? Food tastes better in the kitchen."

"Well then. Allow me to bring your breakfast right here, my dear," he offers.

"By all means." I smile with gratitude, patiently waiting for my long day ahead.

____

I'm finally ready to go. Quickly I roll my wavy hair into a rough bun, a casual look to blend in with my baby blue shirtdress and black, thigh-high boots. My watch displays 11:25 a.m. Still on time! Satisfied, I put on the black sunglasses and grab a simple shoulder bag containing my must-have stuff.

Inside the kitchen, Red is finishing his breakfast, standing up tall with a coffee mug while talking, or listening, to the three maids who are also having breakfast. I mentally sigh, because it appears he's quite popular with ladies even here at home.

And one of them is giggling nonstop.

"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, so they all turn around.

"Um, ma'am, I—" The giggling maid stutters.

Jane? Lucy? I can't remember her name but I think I'm going to when I get to hear it this time. And blonde? Wonderful. Are they his type? Curiosity blooms inside me.

Like a good and matured woman I am, I hold my composure intact.

Wordless, I turn around and head towards the main door. It takes a few seconds until Red is behind me as we near the space gray Lexus LS, my most treasured 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. "Are you good? I thought you'd taken a leave." I climb in.

After we all settle, Bill replies, "I'll start today. Hopefully in one week my wife will be due."

He's expecting his first born. How beautiful.

"I see. All the best," I answer, and silence surrounds us after his delighted reply.

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 in tight knots, for he can be an asshole just like the others. If he also casts me aside I'll be forced to back down from making my next lingerie line, 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.

The Seattle skyline springs into view about three hours later. I like this city—the water, the mountains, and its evergreen forests—and I lived here some years back, when my marriage was all blissful and intact.

Old beautiful memories. I yawn.

"We're here, Ma'am," Bill announces after pulling over right in front of Thompson's largest fashion outlet, right at the center of the Seattle metropolitan area.

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, the sun bright and calm.

"Here goes nothing," I breathe, gathering my every courage while praying to God for some miracle.

Red and I walk in, leaving Bill outside.

"Hi," I greet the first person I see.

A blonde again? I frown when a sassy Miss red lipstick smiles widely at 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.

"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. Mr. Thompson is out of Seattle for business."

"What?" I gasp, my eyes widened.

"He flew to Miami this afternoon. We're opening a new outlet over there and tomorrow is the official opening," she says.

"What?" I snap.

She's gotta be kidding me! I quickly rummage through my bag and fish out my mobile. I call him, only to bump into his voicemail over and over again.

"When did he go?" I ask like a fool.

It's obvious the asshole is avoiding me.

"Just two hours ago," Miss red lipstick says, batting her fake lashes.

"Okay. Okay." I nod, catching a deep breath. "He's a fucking motherfucker! Tell him that," I snap and turn around.

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, too pissed off to even look at his pitiful eyes. By now he's witnessed all of my dark moments.

I'm just an open book to him.

We step outside and I wish I could just close my eyes and make it all disappear. I feel weak, tired, and my head spins. Why is everything going so wrong with my life? I can't help but wonder, for everyday it becomes a new blow to me, and now to the business I strived so hard to build.

"Ma'am!" Bill barrels out of the car with a big, excited face, startling me.

Even Red looks startled by the enormous grin splattered on my driver's face. Has he won a lottery?

"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! That's really something to celebrate.

"Congratulations, Bill. I have no doubt you'll make a great dad," I reply gently.

I'm sure he will. He's a family man.

"Thank you! Thank you, Ma'am!" Bill says in glee, holding his cellphone back to his ear as he's still on the call.

"But, I thought she wasn't due yet?" I ask.

What do I know about pregnancies anyway?

"Yeah. I mean, yeah?" He's still ecstatic despite the hint of confusion on his face. "But she's just done it. My mother-in-law just called me from the hospital."

"I see. I'm happy for you." I pat his shoulder.

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 until he's back into the same blank-faced man I call my bodyguard.

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."