FIVE

I bang the glass on the table. "Another one!" I wipe my mouth after a long chug of chilled beer that ran smoothly down my throat.

"Wow! She's the girl!" One of the tough-looking men on the other side cheers, highly amused.

I grin, feeling so refreshed.

"Refill the lady's glass," Mr I-give-orders-around-here says, laughing loudly at my expense.

His name is Marlow, actually, and he's the owner of this place.

Red's face twists into a displeased look. "You've had enough, Madam," he mutters, scowling at me.

"Shhh!" I hiss at him, leaning closer to his face.  "Don't call me madam! You are my husband, remember?" I murmur, and my mood is at its sublime after the big glass of beer.

We're seated across from one another, the worn-out, wooden table too small to serve us a decent space.

Red sighs heavily, reclining back in his seat. Staring at me with his blazing eyes, he suddenly huffs a very tiny laugh, turning my eyes wide in utter stun.

No, I didn't imagine it, did I? My eyebrows arch as I try to make my slightly intoxicated brain into proper use. Red laughing? I mean, huffing? Or whatever it was? This is incredible.

"What?" he quizzes upon my too-fixed gaze that's eating him alive. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He's back to serious Mr. Bodyguard, but a gleam of mischief remains in his now-smoldering eyes, resembling a cooling volcano.

"I've never seen you laugh. And it's been three months since I met you," I reply earnestly, amazed.

He snorts, he scoffs, but laughing for real isn't something I've been lucky enough to see. At times I wonder if it's because I'm his boss that he treats me rather coldly in pretense of respect.

Or perhaps the other way around?

His lips part slightly, as though he's about to say something, but the words refuse to lurch out. Damn! I frown mentally, for I'm dying to hear him talk, or say something.

Just anything.

"Here is your refill, ma'am!" Simone, a blonde bartender, places another glass on the table with a big grin.

"Thanks, man!" I grin back, wiggling my ass with pleasure, ready to down another.

I want to forget the world I live in and get lost into this foreign land. I feel invisible here: no one knows me, except my bodyguard, and no one gives a damn about who I may be.

Mrs. Mia Kingston? I left her in Portland. I  here I'm Mrs. Red.

To me it's more than freedom. It's like the air I breathe. I'm so fed up with the fake smiles wherever I go, people worshiping my steps just because I'm the wife of some notorious businessman.

I miss being myself.

I'm about to grab my beer when Red suddenly snatches it from me. "What are you doing?" I snap at him, bemused.

"It's my duty to make sure you're safe in every way. That includes what you eat and drink," he says condescendingly. "You've had enough." He glares at me.

"What the—" I pause, huffing flabbergasted. "And who said so?" I snarl quietly.

"Me. Your husband," he replies, and my breath hardens at the sound of it.

Oh God! Why do I feel aroused by these two words? My husband? I swallow tightly, and Red's eyes are on mine as he drinks the beer without haste.

No, stop being ridiculous, Mia! You've agreed to play husband and wife and he's merely playing along.

"Um . . ." I clear my throat, trying to hide how flustered I am. Hopefully my cheeks haven't turned into a perverted shade of red. "You can have it your way, then. Husband!" My voice is sarcastic as I take another bite of my fried chicken breast.

Sounding refreshed, Red places the empty glass down. "I'm not sure if there's a strong signal here so I'll ask for the telephone line and see if we can contact home," he says suggestively while fishing for his mobile, back into the responsible bodyguard mode.

Does he want to call Patrick?

"Wait!" I snap, stopping him from rising up. He gives me an inquiring look. "Don't call him now."

"What?" He frowns.

"Let's do it later." I probably sound weird saying this, desperate even, but it's what I desire.

I want to forget Patrick and everything with his last name.

His frown deepens. "But—"

"I'll call him after we're done eating!" I state rigorously, exerting my full authority over him.

Jeez! Can't he just agree without fussing?

"Okay." He sits down, and it breaks my heart that I've almost shouted at him.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, my gaze stuck on the plate of chicken and roasted potatoes that's no longer of my interest.

"Sorry for what?" Red quizzes, surprise lacing his voice.

I gaze up at him, sighing softly. "I wish to be myself for the few hours I'm here. If I could, I wouldn't want anyone knowing where I am right now."

"Including your husband?" He shows no surprise when he asks this.

I nod. "Especially my husband."

Which reminds me, he's probably in Geneva by now and has contacted me already. But no, I'm not checking my phone—not yet. And he's definitely not there yet even if he's flying private.

I can tell from the slight movement of Red's pink lips that he wants to say or ask something, but refrains himself from doing so. Instead he just nods.

"I'm curious about something," I think out loud, and Red's stare urges me to go on. I lean forward onto the table. "Between me and Patrick, who is the one you're serving? Who's got your loyalty?" I ask, my eyes artfully constructed into the sphere of mystery exuded by him.

His eyes narrow inquisitively at me. But as expected, he doesn't rush into answering my question. His composure is intact as he stares deeply into my eyes, studying me.

"My loyalty lies to the VIP," he finally answers , his eyes shimmering in some indescribable fashion.

"The VIP?" My voice is barely audible, and the noise in this place adds much to it. "Who's the that?" I ask him.

"You, Madam," Red mutters in a deep, breathtaking voice.

Oh, wow! A smile finds a way onto my lips as I try not to blush. He's mine.

"Okay." I sip my beer to hide how flustered I am. He smiles a bit. "And don't call me madam, please. Not today. Not here," I say, and he doesn't respond to this.

He's so unpredictable. I study him keenly as I proceed eating, admiring every feature of his face. Stern jawline covered with well-pruned beard, sharp and intelligent eyes that pierce through my soul whenever he looks at me.

"What?" he asks me at some point.

I clear my throat and say, "Nothing. Just some unspoken facts."

"Unspoken facts?" He snorts a gentle, confused laugh.

Yes, duh. You're incredibly handsome, but I can not tell you out loud.

"Don't pay attention, husband. I'm just being a mysteries wife here." I give him a playful smile while slashing my chicken.

"As you wish, wife," he clearly mocks me.

Well, two can play this game.

Red tries to clear the bill but it seems like Marlow wasn't bluffing about the food being a token of our stay in his place. He rejects the payment.

"It's our tradition to make our guests feel at home so the room payment is totally cool for starters," he tells us. I'm surprised. "What, Lady? Thought some dudes like us are savages?" He breaks into a peaceful laughter, and the rest join in.

"Um, no?" Well, I can't say I didn't, but I can't tell them.

"Thank you," Red says and slowly we head upstairs.

It's almost dark as I stare outside through the window while dropping my bag on the bed. The room isn't big, probably the size of my walk-in-closet at home. Furnished in wood, old and rough, nothing is fancy as I'm used to. But it doesn't matter, because I feel more at ease than at home.

I sit on the bed, cross-legged, and slowly take off my boots. Red has been busy inspecting everything in the room. He's checked the door, the windows, and even the ceiling. I can't hold my smile at his ever-serious face that calls for my curiosity all the time.

"Does it work?" I ask him.

He is now checking the old television set.

"I don't think so," he answers, frowning his brows.

I chuckle. All I need is shower and a very good rest. But wait, how can I forget that I'm spending the night here, in the same room with my bodyguard? My gaze finds him immediately.

Why am I freaked?

I instantly avert my gaze as he looks at me. I think I'm turning nuts at the thought of my night to come. A shower! I need a shower right now to regain my senses.

"Um, I'll be in the bathroom." I get up.

"Okay." Red nods.

Thankfully the bathroom is neat and clean enough, its white tiles stainless. I'm very sensitive when it comes to this. I waste no time to whip my dress off. What a day! A yawn escapes me.

What a better way to beat the fatigue than a warm water and good sleep? But news flash, this is not home and I doubt if there's more than cold water running through the pipes.

"Well, let's see," I murmur with a sigh while gripping the old, aluminum faucet.

The shower doesn't start. Does it even work? God, what is this place? Again I try to cock the faucet but it's too hard.

"Damn it!" I yell loudly.

I try again, but nothing comes out of it.

"Everything okay?" I hear Red asking right behind the door. I'm still frowning, taciturn. "Madam?" he calls, and I roll my eyes at the name.

I told him not to call me that, didn't I?

"Madam?" Red repeats and I decide to respond, but my voice doesn't come out when the door bursts open. He flings in. "Mad—" He pauses when his eyes land on my half-naked body, a pair of nude lace bralette and its matching briefs covering my precious reserves.

Immediately he casts his gaze away, astonished. I smile indulgently. Well, I'm an ex-model. Plenty of catwalks in lingerie have made me so bold and confident in my own skin. I feel normal.

"I didn't know you're undressed. Sorry." Muttering his apology, Red tries to leave.

"Can you check if the shower works?" I casually grab the towel from the wall-installed cabinet and wrap it around my body. "I tried but it still doesn't open." I glance at him.

Reluctantly, Red turns around. Finding my body covered enough, relief seems to be crossing his face as he exhales a deep breath. Oh boy! I press my lips together to stifle a laugh. He's cute.

"Let's see," he says while clutching the faucet, and I move aside.

His sinew arms tense as he tries to ease the faucet, which turns successful in a blink of an eye, letting the cold water from the shower cascades unannounced down on me.

"Ah!" I jump startled, only to realize that I've landed into Red's arms.

He holds me deftly by the waist, my head tipped back as I was definitely going to slip and fall down. Jesus! I feel my breath quickening, a mixture of fright and something else I can't tell when Red's face is right above mine, his body arched toward me.

His eyes. His eyes are staring tempestuously at my face, a dark and ardent gleam clouding them as he scowls. His gaze slowly glides down to my breasts, devouring the swell beneath the fabric of my designer bra.

"Red . . ." I breathe his name.

My skin burns from the heat surging in my blood. My desire over him feels palpable by now, and everything else becomes wanton. I can't hold it.

And all of a sudden, with his chest rising and falling in a new design, Red whispers, "Mia . . ." His voice is deep, hoarse, and transfixed.