Miss Denmark

pancakes

My throat was sore and dry, and even though I could breathe freely, my throat felt like the Sahara desert. I felt comfortable, and it was too dark out for it to be more than early morning. I would have to pay for that later. When the tiredness overpowered me again.

I didn't get out of bed. The comforter was warm. I had been cold the night before after returning from the hospital. Charcoal gray suit had found a blanket. It was slung over the back of a chair. I had removed it after he'd shut the door the night before. The door was locked.

Because my bag was on the pillow next to me, I could easily reach it without moving too far from the comforter. I reached out and grabbed my phone.

It was half past six. It was way too early but if I could just go back to my flat, it would be okay.

I pushed myself into a sitting position. Even though I wanted to stay in bed, I wanted to go home more.

Yesterday's events were still in the back of my mind, even though I hadn't processed it as such. I had, once, seen a man, a cop, draw a gun. He secured it before putting it back from where it came. But New York City was the city where everything could happen.

I got out of bed and checked my dress covered what should be covered. The carpet was soft beneath my bare feet. I stepped into my shoes and went to the door. Mirror.

I went to the bathroom, used the toilet and checked my reflection in the mirror. It wasn't exactly pretty bruises on my neck. My jaw was sore, I learned when I moved it. It was blue.

I gently touched my chin and moved my hand. That just hurt.

I turned off the lights and left the room.

I shut the door behind me and walked, hesitantly down the hallway. I peeked into the conference room. Empty.

Okay. What to do?

I glanced towards the elevator. Should I ride that down? I could always ride it down and catch a cap and then go back to my apartment. And I could contact charcoal gray suit Monday so he knew I'd made it home safe. For his peace of mind.

I hesitated before reaching out and pressing the button.

As if someone knew I was up, the elevator doors opened and charcoal gray suit stood in the elevator. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, socks, and had his phone in his hand.

"Morning," he said and stepped out of the elevator.

I took a step back so we didn't stand too close. "Thank you for letting me sleep here." I said.

He walked down the hallway, towards the room.

I kept standing and followed him with my gaze. What was that about?

He stopped next to a closed door and looked back at me. "Come," he remarked. Between me and him, was the elevator, the conference room and then those two doors, one on each side compared to where he stood.

I walked down the hall and he opened the door.

Did he expect I just did what he said?

I followed him into something which appeared to be a kitchen diner, which seated six people around the dining table.

He shut the door and opened a small door and pulled out a tray with food.

I wasn't sure if we were ghosts to one another of if he just wasn't a man of many words.

"Breakfast," he said and looked at me. "Coffee, tea or juice?" He asked.

"Tea," I answered. I wasn't at the coffee stage yet.

He looked at me without blinking. "Okay." He said and put the plates and cups on the table.

I walked to him. Why was he up now? And why did he have all this planned?

"Sit down," he said and looked at me.

I walked around the table and sat down. He sat down opposite me and pushed the hot water for tea in my direction.

He poured some coffee for himself, and I hesitantly poured tea for myself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I looked at him. "Okay." I replied.

His gaze was on my neck. "What did that bastard do to you?" He asked, voice low.

"Didn't you have video material?" I asked.

He didn't glower at me, but his eyebrows dipped down, causing his eyes to be shrouded in shadows. "Yes." He mumbled.

"Then I guess you know," I said slowly.

"I would like to apologize for what I asked of you after work yesterday," he said and looked at me.

His eyes were so blue.

My shoulders slumped a bit. So he wasn't like, he wasn't a sex animal? "Apology accepted."

The funny little smile was on his mouth. "Good."

I looked at what he'd put forward. Simple, at least for the standards here. Pancakes. They were steaming.

"Please, help yourself." He said.

I looked at him. "What's your name?" I asked.

Both eyebrows were raised. "Alexander," he said.

Alexander Greene. It suited him. He was tall, muscular, something which was more pronounced now he wore a tightfitting t-shirt. His hair was messy, either he hadn't cared to do anything about it, or then he'd run his fingers through it so many times it was sitting tousled because of that.

"Your name?" He asked.

I moistened my lips. "Christina," I said. Nice to have a name which could be both pronounced and spelled by someone speaking English as well as Danish.

He put his hands around his cup and didn't say anything else.

I reached out, with the fork, and stabbed a pancake. This was weird.