SIX

He called my name.

He just called my name, didn't he? It's quite inexplicable how this makes me feel. I'm floating in clouds as my entire body lightens in his tantalizing hold.

"Say it again," I breathe huskily, my eyes and Red's locked tightly.

"Mia . . ." Red repeats like a docile servant, tugging at the stubborn strands of my hair that frames my face.

Lord, I melt when his strong fingers graze on my skin, the flames of his blazing ember eyes burning my every resolution to stay indifferent at his presence.

Nothing seems to exist as his lips near mine, gently, a scowl on his face as though he's in the stiff battle between his uttermost desire and decorum.

Kiss me, please.

Oh fuck, what am I thinking of? I'm a married woman! I may have a crooked husband but I'm still branded as his and this shouldn't happen! But why do I crave for Red?

I'm impatiently waiting for his lips to possess mine, to kiss me deeply with any vehemence portrayed in his eyes full of exciting, venereal desire.

But Red suddenly snaps out of this salacious spell and pulls back. "I'm sorry," he says while tugging me into a balanced stance. What? "The shower works now. I'll be outside." He frees my body and I feel bereft.

"You—" I open my mouth to foolishly protest his attempt to leave, and my heart is in pain as he looks back at me with a hard frown.

His face is painted with remorse. He's obviously regretting what he was about to do; for almost kissing me. I ought to understand him, I know this much, but strangely I don't want to. I feel rejected.

"Alright. Thanks," I mutter, sibilantly. He leaves without looking back. "Oh God." I lean recklessly against the cold tiled-wall, my palms on my burning cheeks. I feel hot and cold at the same time, angered and shortchanged.

What's happening? Why am I angry at this lost moment? My heart beats rapidly as fear engulfs me. Am I falling for my bodyguard?

No, it can't be. I'm just physically attracted to him. He's an irresistible man, that's all.

"Right?" I breathe like a fool, convincing my heart to learn some restraints.

I anticipated my shower to be calm and relaxing, but it turned out to be the contrary. I can't believe I'm more perturbed by Red's reaction rather than my serious unsolved problems.

You can't fall for him, Mia. I sigh heavily while rubbing my soaked hair. The shower is off and it's time I step out. I quickly pluck the towel and wrap it around my nude body.

Red is my bodyguard and whether I like it or not I am still married to Patrick Kingston—the man who wouldn't hesitate killing him—if he ever learns of my altered feelings.

Red is out of the room as I return. I'm glad because I'm not capable of facing him with confidence right away. It's already dark and I should probably get to bed.

But do I have anything to wear? I didn't bring clothes as I've got a full closet in my country house. Well, this shirtdress will have to suffice as uncomfortable as it may be.

Being Mrs. Red is harder than I thought. I feel like I'm a forsaken wife. A stupid laughter lurches out of my lips as I dry myself. Maybe after a good sleep my head will regain its senses.

I'm lying in bed and my cellphone has got a couple of missed calls from Detective Lawrence Smith, and Anne, my friend. There is none from Patrick and I'm grateful.

I return the Detective's call.

"Hi, Mrs. Kingston. I'm sorry to bother you once again," he says curtly.

"It's alright. Do you have any news?" I try to be polite despite the rage and impatience eating me inside.

"Um . . . not really, Ma'am. I just had one little question considering that you weren't in your right mind last night when my boys questioned you," he says. "And . . . Well . . . Although your husband instructed that anything should go through your lawyer, I still need to hear this from you. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't. Go ahead." I sit up.

"Okay. What I want to ask is a bit personal." He sounds hesitant at first but I know he's thick skinned so he'll ask anyway.

"Um, let's see," I mutter.

"You caught your husband cheating on you with his ex-wife about four months ago, right?" he asks blatantly.

What? How does he know that? I glower irritably.

"I don't see how relevant that question is to the case," I retort. I don't like my privacy being exposed.

"Trust me, it probably is," he replies. "I'll consider your cryptic silence as a yes. And after learning that you smashed her brand new car to a wreck, didn't you?"

Oh fuck! Now everyone must know how maniac Mia actually is.

"Yeah, I did. And so?" I return, irritated at the memory.

I needed something to smash so my anger would disappear. So why not the bitch's brand new car? Oh, I'm still living for the face she made.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to look for some loose ends," the detective replies.

I scowl. "Are you suggesting that my husband's ex-wife is the one responsible for all the attacks?" I ask him, slowly regaling the idea.

I mean, the old bitch does hate me. And she clearly declared that she'd make me pay for taking what's rightfully hers. It's an old song, though, for she's been saying that for years now.

"No, I didn't say that. I'm only trying to gather every information I can get. I heard you've left Portland? I hope you stay safe," he says and we hang up after goodbyes.

I don't get the time to meditate on this call as there's a knock on the door. Soft, three knocks are Red's style. It's him. I quickly bury myself under the duvet and pretend to be asleep.

The door flicks open and I hear familiar steps scrambling in. I hold my breath; I clutch the duvet as tightly as I can. When did I decide to revisit my childhood? This was so my style knowing I was guilty of something.

"Madam?" he calls gently, perhaps to make sure I'm truly dozed off.

Madam yourself! I mentally roll my eyes.

He sighs soundly and I begin hearing his steps heading rightward, the bathroom direction. The door opens afterwards, and then shuts, and he's gone. I sigh heavily as I ease my body out of suffocation.

It's going to be a long night.

Red exits from the bathroom are all refreshed. As always he's breathtakingly hot despite being fully dressed in his previous clothes. My eyes are on him, and he's startled that I'm awake, seated Indian-style on the bed.

"How are we going to sleep?" I blurt out.

"I'll take the couch. Stay in bed," he answers coolly while shutting the door behind him.

I say no more. I lie down facing the window, my back facing him. I'm suddenly feeling down and lonely now that he's right here in the same place I am, yet oceans apart. What is he doing to me?

After a short moment the lights go off, and Red occupies the couch that's not farther from the bed. I roll over to face the white ceiling above me. A deafening silence blankets us. I feel restless.

I pluck my phone and turn some music on. Bob Dylan starts the melancholy lyrics of Knocking on Heaven's door, my good excuse to let out the tears whenever I feel like. Everything I've been holding back surges speedily.

The fire in my working studio and all the new collections burned. The reckless car chase that got me really scared, and the gunshots in my husband's club which were followed by some people trying to get me in the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" Red asks quietly, deep concerns lacing his voice.

I had no idea tears were cascading across my face until now that I'm sniffing.

"I guess," I murmur, catching a breath to reclaim my inner equilibrium. "Depends on who's asking. Is it Red, my bodyguard? Or Red, my—"

"Which one would Madam prefer?" Red cuts me off, and his question feels like a coquettish demand.

Red, my husband.

"The one I need right now," I answer softly, whirling my head to face him despite the darkness. He's lying on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. "But never mind me. I'm reeling from my insanity." I sigh deeply.

Another reign of silence follows.

"You're a very brave woman," Red utters out of nowhere. I narrow my eyes on him. "With everything going on, I'm amazed whenever I see your smile. Err . . . I mean . . ." he stutters and I find myself giggling.

And weirdly I'm imagining him laughing soundlessly.

"I'm scared, Red. I really am. But I can never let it show," I confess matter-of-factly, my eyes on his majestic body. "I can't give my enemy the satisfaction."

"I know," Red answers.

"Red, do you really think someone is trying to kill me? Maybe I'm being paranoid, right?" I plop up on my elbows to catch a good glance of him.

"Do you want my honest opinion?" Red asks smoothly, gazing at me.

"Please," I breathe.

Red sits up slowly. "I don't think they are trying to kill you as you imagine," he blurts out. My eyes widen. "They're only trying to scare you." His voice is super precise and confident in what he says.

"You think?" I whisper. Red refuses to respond, and something tells me that he knows more than I do. "Why would they want to scare me? What for?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Maybe it's a warning," he blurts again, sounding mindful, and I wonder why he's being this open today.

He is quite different from the man who plays my personal talisman.

"A warning? A warning for me?" I quiz, sitting up reflexively.

"Not necessarily." He lays back on the couch.

"What do you mean? If someone is sending a warning, but not for me, then to whom will it—" I pause as a sudden comprehension crosses my mind.

Patrick. Could it be linked to my husband? Am I being used as bait for something shady? No, it can't be. I shake my head.

"Don't think too much about it," Red says, trying to pacify the tension. I'm dismayed, a shiver running down my spine. "Mia?" he calls upon my silence, the sound of my breath audible.

I won't forgive Patrick if this has anything to do with him! Or his businesses! Tears fall down unchecked at the thought of everything I've endured by being his wife. Why did I marry him?

Honey, is it for his money? Why are you in such a hurry to get married? You're too young, Mia. My mom's words replay in my mind.

No, I didn't marry him for money. I was crazy . . . stupidly in love with the man who turned the little girl in me into a gratified woman.

Red gets up abruptly.

"Don't turn the lights on!" I say stoutly, hugging myself under the duvet, shaking.

"I wasn't going to," Red replies calmly. He's worried. I don't understand him until he adds, "I'll stay as your husband tonight, Mia. Please calm down." His unexpected words leave me in the dark.

But it suddenly turns beamingly clear when he approaches the bed.