Married to a powerful businessman feared all-over Portland, Mia Kingston has a reputation to uphold. As the CEO of MK, her own lingerie brand, everyone believes she has everything, including the perfect marriage most women envy.
She's beautiful, s...
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I spend some time on my bedroom balcony, doing nothing but meditating the fresh air and smooth sunlight oozing through the calm turquoise sky with cotton-like clouds that steals my breath away. I fail to stop thinking of my life from this point onward.
How am I going to coexist with Patrick when I go back home? My mind gets occupied with thoughts, and the idea of preparing for divorce stands strong in my head. It's evident that I no longer feel as happy as I used to by simply being his wife.
But will he let me go easily?Or will I have to open a lawsuit against him just to reclaim my freedom? And how will he react to that, huh?
"We'll see, Mia. We'll see." I sigh heavily and release the handrails that I've been leaned onto.
I'm thirsty so I head straight downstairs where I find Red in the kitchen, to my utter surprise.
"Good that you're here. Sit down and have breakfast," he says articulately and I discern he's been cooking.
My eyes gleam when I see a plate of French omelets and toasts on the table. Without glancing at me, Red grabs a kettle and pours some freshly made coffee in two mugs. He then stalks toward the fridge, mutely.
Is this the last breakfast he'll ever make for me? I can't explain the harrow in my heart at the thought of losing these precious moments I've come to experience within forty-eight hours or so.
I don't think twice as my feet lead me toward Red speedily. In nanosecond I fling onto his back and hug him from behind, my arms tight around his stomach. As always he tenses and I'm too emotional to free him.
"Mia," he breathes, his voice startled.
"Just a moment, Red. Please don't say anything," I beg him, my eyes shut at the feel of his body this close to mine. It's ethereal and I wish I could feel it every day of my life.
Red acquiesces by slowly shutting the fridge door, postponing whatever he was about to take. I hear him releasing a soft breath, and his chest relaxes as he starts rubbing my arms smoothly.
"I don't want to go back." I try my best to not cry but unfortunately my tears are quite stubborn—they slide treacherously down my cheeks.
What am I doing? Why am I so okay being vulnerable around this man? Am I really in love with him?
Love? No, Mia, you can't be in love with him. You shouldn't allow that at any costs! It won't be good for any of you!
"I don't know what to say, Mia," Red mutters in a low, discomfited voice. He slowly takes ahold of my hands and parts them so he can easily turn around.
I move my head back as he faces me, his eyes mirthless. My hands linger about his waist and his reach for my face, and he put it between his big palms, his eyes bored deeper into mine.
"Don't think too much of it," he tells me. I blink at him, bemused. "You'll be fine, Mia. You're a strong woman."
"But I don't want to be strong," I rebuke stubbornly. "I want to be free and weak just as I've been in these two days of being here with you." Desperation in my voice makes me very infantile right now.
