An Engagement Of PARALLELS

12- REYNA

I can't sleep.

All I have done till now is watch the ceiling and twist on my sides. Punch the pillows and throw legs in my duvet. But the nerves of being here, in Maverick's house, under his roof, doesn't seem to be subsiding.

All grumbling and scowling, I take my phone from the night stand and start filtering through my mails.

Its dead quite in the penthouse and occasionally I wonder where Velma sleeps.

Another half an hour passes and sleep is still evading me. But at least my mail folder is clean and organized.

I move to start deleting spam messages when a shrill scream breaks the pregnant silence. I shift my phone in my palms so that its easily throw-able if there's a break in.

Grabbing a knife that I keep by my bed at all times, I walk in silence towards my room's door and turn the knob.

That's when I hear it again. The manly grunt and a tough 'No'

Is he having an argument with someone at this time.

My mind is going a mile a minute. I concentrate to listen clearly but there's nothing.

Getting out of the room I check the dimly lit space. Clearly we do not have a intruder and so I settle the knife on a decoration table and knock on the next door that is Maverick's.

There is no answer after knocking twice. Obviously he is busy and the manner of business could be anything.

So saving myself the misery, I turn around to pad back into my room. But there is more grunting noises.

Fuming I look at the door of his room. Lack of sleep makes me annoyed and I swear if this man is making out just next to my room after giving me a million dollar engagement ring then I am going to be very, very angry.

A sliver of uncertainty hits me but I still open his door. "Maverick"

There's little light that is filtering through the curtains. It takes me a monent to adjust to the darkness in the room and then I see it.

His eyes is tightly closed and his brows is furrowed together twisting his face as if he is in some pain.

"Sir!" I call.

"No! No! No!" he screams still twisting and flinging his hands in the duvet.

The horror to see him like this paralyses me but I quickly gain my conscience and try not to focus on the crack in his voice.

He is clearly having a nightmare so I move closer and to the side of his bed and call again. "Mr. Astor, wake up."

As expected he doesn't move but is still groaning as if he is still in pain.

So throwing my reservations out of the window, I shake him gently at first and then violently the second time. "Maverick, get up." I yell this time.

He opens his eyes and then they flick to me quickly. "What?"

"You were having a nightmare I think."

"So? You barge in my room?"

Right. Arrogance. My favorite thing to deal with at this hour.

I straighten up and mutter a goodnight as I walk towards my room.

He grunts something that roughly resembles "yes" then turns to face the other side of the bed.

Four something years of this is ahead of me.

I wince at that thought as I climb back to my bed.