NINE

A good shower restores my energy to at least half of its usual glory. I take the stairs down to the tavern and Marlow streams into my first view. The place is already packed and he's busy giving orders.

"Lady!" he greets me cheerily as I near him. I smile indulgently. "You slept well, didn't ya?" He grins down at me.

I flush. I slept like a baby.

"Hmm." I nod my affirmation while glancing around. Some noises fill the air, and so does the smell of breakfast. "Are you good?" I ask him.

"As you can see." Marlow bows respectfully. "Your husband instructed us that we should treat you with the best breakfast we could possibly make."

"Um, he said that?" I blurt out, a pang of disappointment hitting me as I desire having my breakfast with him instead. Marlow creases a single eyebrow, amused. "I mean, sure. I'll have everything good you make here." I force my enthusiasm.

"As you wish, Lady!" he replies and off he goes.

I take my seat on the empty table and try calling Red on the phone. But I suddenly decide against it. What if he doesn't want to have breakfast together? What if he regrets everything? My heart tightens at the thought.

I don't know what to make out of this but the tray of warm breakfast draws my sullen smile into fireworks. Slices of fresh fruits, tuna sandwich, pancakes and maple syrup, and a cup of espresso. Wow!

All my favorites? Red! I blush.

I'm lost in thoughts, scrolling on my social media that's filled with all sickly feeds about my downfall. Is it the end of MK? One of the annoying headings shatters my food-enthused soul. Maybe it is, I sigh heavily.

"Good morning," Red utters out of nowhere, interrupting my grief.

I gaze up acutely at him, and he's right beside me. "Morning," I return while shoving my phone aside.

Red takes a seat; looking . . . I don't know how he looks. He's probably distant? I can't even tell which Red is in front of me. It can't be my fake husband, and I don't think it's my bodyguard either. What's going on?

"I called your husband," he says gently. The stolidity in his eyes doesn't leave me indifferent. "I have the obligation to inform him of your whereabouts; especially if it involves your safety," he adds.

Yeah, right. I press my lips together before sipping my coffee. Ugh, it's already cool. I place the cup back on the table, feeling indisposed.

"He's talked to me already," I reply bluntly, and the tension between us is now perceptible.

Red's mouth twists into a hard line, a small furrow between his eyebrows. But he doesn't respond.

"Is the car ready?" I ask, finding no other topic to discuss.

I can't speak about last night, can I? It's like I imagined everything. Red is acting as though nothing happened, and I guess it's comfortable this way.

"Just a few minutes more and it'll be ready," he answers, his eyes on his long fingers entwined on the table.

"Have you had breakfast?" I ask him, for I'm already full and it'll be selfish of me if he's hungry.

"Not yet." He gazes up at me, his face deadpan.

"Well, I think you should. I'll be in the room waiting for the car to be done." I get up as I say this. "Let me know when it's time to go. Thanks for breakfast." My voice is gruff.

Red looks a bit startled by my cold reaction. What was he expecting? If he wants us to pretend nothing happened last night then so be it.

"Okay," he says quietly.

No Madam? No Mia? What am I to him this morning? I'm seriously beginning to feel garbled from this nameless demeanor of his.

___

Marlow offers me his kindest smile as we bid him goodbye. "Do come back anytime, Lady, huh?" he says.

"I surely will whenever I pass by," I answer truthfully, for I indeed enjoyed my stay here.

"Good." He grins and looks up at Red, who's still impassive. "Take care of babymama, huh? She's a good one I tell yah."

Oh boy! If he only knew.

Red holds the front passenger door open for me but I choose to sit in the back. He's surprised by this, but he says nothing. Shutting the door slowly, he walks toward the driver's side, slips in, and starts the engine right away.

Our ride to Astoria turns rather sullen than ever before. I'm facing the window, my head filled with so many things to sort out, and Red is highly focused on the road, a small frown on his face must be evident.

I am trying my best not to think of last night. I've got a lot to worry about—my collapsing business for instance, and yet it's still impossible to stave off the memory of Red inside me.

"Oh God," I breathe as I shift a bit, and immediately Red's gaze is onto the rearview mirror.

He looks at me and I look at him, but none of us open our mouths.

I hope he's not feeling guilty after what we shared last night. I don't want him to forget it, because I don't think I can even if the world turns upside-down. His kisses, his caresses, they're all emblazoned in my mind.

"I had to tell him so that he wouldn't doubt you . . . Doubt us," Red says in a low, guarded voice, his eyes still in the rearview.

Huh? What is he talking about? I'm too absentminded to understand.

"Your husband," he clears upon my inquiring scowl.

"Oh?" I mutter without much interest in the subject. "I get it." All I desire to know is what's on his mind.

How does he feel whenever he looks at me with those intelligent, blazing eyes? His past, his present, and even the things with deep, dark shades of red concerning his life—I want to know them all.

"Do you . . ." I start but my courage withers at the thought of something dreadful happening if Patrick learns of my secret involvement with Red. I shall never let it happen. "Never mind." I recline back thwarted, ignoring Red's expectant look.

Maybe it's better I try to forget about the sex we had, I decide. Oh, how easier said than done! I can hear my inner voice loud and clear making fun of me. Not after that unusually exquisite sex with the man who isn't your husband!

Nothing new goes on until we're finally in Astoria. I'm still wide awake, heedful, as the car pulls in front of a two storey house made of black-painted wild wood and translucent glass—a modern cabin in the woods.

I sigh softly at the sight, my butt stuck on the seat. Long churning trees, birds twittering merrily, and the soothing breeze are what make this place a pure tranquility. I come here whenever I need solitude and peace of mind.

"We're here," Red announces gently, his eyes back on the rearview. Our gaze collides as he reaches for the door handle to make an exit; that way he can open the door for me.

But I do it myself before he does. He's stupefied as I clamber out.

My eyes are fixed intensely on him. "You can call me madam. You can call me Mia. You can call me any name you find easier, Red. But don't make it too obvious that you're regretting what we did," I snap, unable to mask the hurt I'm feeling right now.

My eyes burn but I hold the tears like a big girl I am, and Red's face blanches into a wry apprehension. His sharp jaw constricts but he doesn't respond.

"It shouldn't have happened," I mutter in a low voice, "it's what I hear every time you look at me today." I slam the car door shut and fix my shoulder bag ready to storm off . . . away from him.

And suddenly his hand tightens around my wrist. I shudder, stopping in my tracks, the effect of his touch still so fresh like a morning dew, and a soft, unsorted breath flies from my lips. I close my eyes.

"I don't regret it," Red whispers, his tone firm and precise. I flash my eyes open in a stun, but I don't move. Red does it; he strides over so he's standing before me, my hand still in his.