Chapter 5 : Present

My head feels like it's about a second away from rolling off my neck due to the heavy bandage wrapped around it.

After finally being cleared from the hospital, I find myself in the front seat of a black tinted Range Rover. Beside a man I don't know.

The man who is now expected to guard my life from a random threat that popped up on my 25th birthday, of all days. You'd think that after everything I've been through, I deserve peace. Nope!

I wiggle in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position to ease my sore back. Before I could shift again, he reclined the seat without warning, and I fell back with a huff.

"Thanks, I guess? But I don't want to lie down."

Without glancing at me, he responds in a cold tone, "Do you plan on living in this car?"

"No..."

"Then you'll be fine."

I glare at him, speechless. Is this man serious? I re-adjust my seat at a proper angle.

As if he can feel my gaze burning through his skin, he shoots me a curious glance. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips remain in a straight line, oozing uninterest.

His eyes return to the road, but mine are still piercing through him. An attempt to make him uncomfortable, but sadly, his posture remains straight, as he locks his eyes on the road for the rest of the way home.

When the car finally pulls into the driveway, I unstrap my seatbelt with a huff.

But before I can reach for the door handle, my bodyguard immediately locks it.

"Wait."

"Wait? Wait for what!" I shout.

"In case you faint and hit your head...again. I won't be held responsible," he says in the blandest tone.

I turn to face him, "I don't like the way you speak to me."

His eyebrows perk up in mock interest, "Oh no. Should I bow down and kiss your feet, Princessa?"

My face flushes in embarrassment at him using the nickname my father calls me.

"What's your deal?" I ask, annoyed.

He critiques me with a scowl, "Nothing. You're just hard to deal with."

"You don't know me. And I certainly don't need you to deal with me."

"Right," he responds, folding his lips, "but unfortunately for you, Princessa, I don't quit."

"Stop calling me that!" I demand, but he's already out of the van, making his way around it.

My door flies open, and Mr Bodyguard hooks his arm around my waist, lifting me out of the car.

He then uses his other hand to support my legs, carrying me bridal style, to my utter discomfort.

"I can walk, you know," I say, refusing to put my arms around his neck or on his shoulders.

He ignores me, walking fast but steadily up the few steps that lead to my front door.

When he pushes the door open, I'm surprised to see police officers scattered in my house.

"What is going on!" I shout.

"Stop screaming in my ear."

"Why are there people in my house?" I shout, ignoring his wish.

He turns to look at me, causing our faces to be mere inches apart, "Where is your bedroom?"

"Answer me first!"

"Stop acting like a brat and tell me where your room is," he grunts.

I'm stunned by his tone and expression. "That's not very professional of you, is it?"

He smirks, "So what? You're gonna run and tell your daddy?"

I roll my eyes, "Actually, yes—yes, I am. So that he'll realise that this is a waste of time."

I make myself comfortable in his arms, out of spite. Let me show him who's hard to deal with. Now he's standing in the middle of the hallway looking around, unfazed by the weight in his arms.

"You know, most people would be grateful to have protection after a near-death experience. But here you are...whining about it."

I humph, "Are you trying to make me feel bad for being privileged?"

"Not at all! How dare I do such a thing?" he mocks.

"Put me down!" I demand, fed up with being close to him.

He slowly lowers me to my feet, "Gladly, you're not exactly lightweight."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" I glare, feeling lightheaded as I'm left to stand on my own.

He lazily scans me from head to toe, "I didn't say that...but if the cap fits."

I turn away swiftly, causing me to stumble over the carpeted flooring. I throw my palms out in front of me, welcoming the fall. Immediately, I feel his arm wrap around my waist, suspending me.

"There you go," he murmurs, pulling me into his chest before lifting me safely into his arms once again.

"This proves nothing..." I say, shamelessly.

He nods, "uh-huh"

"My bedroom is upstairs, at the end of the hall," I admit in defeat.

Without another word, he climbs the staircase, dodging officers on the way up. Some are busy taking notes, while most pace around aimlessly. A few officers are securing the entrances and installing security equipment.

My father is so dramatic. It could've been a random attack. Not that I remember anything.

Mr Bodyguard finally arrives at my bedroom door, which is open to my surprise. Fury dances along my skin, seeing that my room isn't the way I left it. The drawers are left open, and the furniture is misplaced. My personal items were thrown around and disorganised.

"I'm going to scream..." I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut.

He sits me on my bed before going to close my door, "Please don't."

"I'm going to ask this one last time. Why are people in my house turning it upside down without my permission?"

"Ms Moretti, there was a break in while you were in the hospital," he informs me.

"What?" I ask, but suddenly, a loud explosion sounds from downstairs. Rattling my bones.

Without taking his eyes off me, he positions himself at my door, tapping his earpiece, "What was that?"

"Copy," he says, tone stiff as he pulls his firearm from his waist, disabling the safety.

"What's going on?" I ask quietly, not wanting to distract him.

"Can you get in the closet until I come get you?"

I climb off the bed, without another word, and swiftly walk to my closet. Before I close the door, he gives me a firm nod, "I'm not leaving you, don't worry."

"I wasn't worrying," I lie, fastening the lock on the door and moving away from it. Of course, I'm worried. Why is my life suddenly thrown into chaos?

I pace around in my closet, chewing my nails. Everything is in place. The officers didn't touch a surface in here, it seems. Under the glimmering light of the chandelier, my eyes spot a small red box with a delicate bow.

It's strange. I don't remember getting any jewellery. It stands out amongst the clear resin holders on which I store my pieces.

I inch towards it with trembling hands. Did someone really invade my space? Touched my personal belongings? The thought causes my breath to hitch.

Fear claws up my throat, scraping my mouth open. But with all my restraint, I keep it shut.

I reach for the box, picking it up and holding it in my palm. The presence of it burns a hole in my skin. Chilling my bones as I squeeze my eyes shut, daring myself to open the box.

After a few minutes have passed, I remove the cover before opening my eyes. And there it is...a white rose, sprinkled with droplets of red. My eyes widen at the sight of it.

The rose is wilted, its petals on the verge of falling off. Beneath it is a glass reflecting my horrified reflection.

I take the rose from the box to see what's beneath. There it is, a message in the middle of the glass, stroked in crimson.

Happy 25th, Red.

Love D.

"Nonononono," I whisper in sheer panic, stuffing the rose back into the box and covering it quickly as I hear the doorknob rattling.

"Ms Moretti?" Mr Bodyguard calls, "Open the door. We need to go."

"Coming!" I shout, my voice sounding high-pitched despite my efforts to calm down. But beads of sweat are dripping from my face as I shove the box inside another, then bury it in a shopping bag.

Only then do I make my way to the door and disable the lock.

Mr Bodyguard's face is paler than the last time I saw him. He ushers me from the closet.

"Stay close behind me."

I obey him. Staying close as we exit my room and climb down the stairs slowly. The sight that welcomed me is one that I wasn't prepared for. Several officers are unconscious on the ground.

Mr Bodyguard stops randomly, quickly checking one of the officers for a pulse. "Still breathing," he whispers.

Relief floods me. Finally, we near the front door, where men in black suits gather. He ushers me into another van where two men sandwich me as he takes the driver's seat.

His stern voice slices through the silence in the vehicle, "The location has been compromised."

His jaw clenches as he nods, "Copy that."

He then starts the engine, pulling out of the driveway once the other van is ahead of us. His eyes search mine in the rearview mirror, "Now, Princessa, what motive would anyone have to kill you?"

"I have no idea."