Secret Service

Seven

Gwendolyn clinked her shot glass against Willow's and they both took their shots at the same time.

"He loves you."

"I know, and I love him."

"Then stop overthinking, tequila is not supposed to make you think. We need to do less thinking."

Willow rolled her eyes, "We could always talk about how hot your bodyguard is."

"No, we cannot." Gwendolyn held her hand up, hoping it would be enough to stop her in her tracks. Willow went to continue anyway but had been stopped by a familiar face.

Her fiance, Marcus, stood at their table with his arms crossed. Marcus was a tall and imposing figure, standing two heads taller than the petite Willow.

He had long locs that flowed down to his waistline that he had always kept neatly tucked away.

Willow's jaw dropped, "What are you doing here?"

"Are you stalking us?" Gwendolyn asked.

"No, this is my favorite nightclub, and the boys and I are bar hopping, this was next."

"So we are supposed to believe you conveniently arrived here? Just tell us the truth, you wanted to make sure I wasn't sitting in a stripper's lap!"

Marcus turned to Gwendolyn, "How much as she have to drink?"

Gwendolyn only shrugged, they had stopped counting a long time ago. All she could attest to was that the one full bottle of tequila was half empty.

Marcus rolled his eyes, offering Willow a hand. "I am going to take her to the bar to get her some water. Do you need anything?"

It was not Marcus' first time rescuing a drunk Willow and Gwen. Most nights they went out together, it was Marcus dropping off Gwen, not her chauffeur.

"I am fine, I will keep drinking." Gwendolyn waved the bottle in the air.

Marcus gave her a concerned look, "I will get her this water then I am taking you both home."

"We are not going home!" Willow declared in defiance and Marcus refrained from saying anything more, simply dragging his drunk fiance away to the bar on the other side of the club.

Sitting alone while drunk had been a bad combination that always brought her mind back to Alaric.

"Are you going to pour me a shot?" A familiar voice said.

Gwendolyn jumped, fearing she may have conjured him here herself. Alaric stood off to the side of the table, leaning against the alcove. He was wearing a grey t-shirt and dark blue jeans, a baseball cap pulled low on his head.

"What are you doing here? I thought you weren't working." Gwendolyn said, suddenly feeling sobriety snap back into her.

"I am not working," Alaric responded.

"Then what are you doing here?"

Alaric shrugged, "Does it matter?"

He was right, it didn't. She was just simply glad to see his face.

"What is with the baseball cap?" Gwendolyn asked, moving on.

"Your fathers' men can't know I am here. I imagine they would frown upon me wanting to see you when we are off the clock." Alaric said, using her empty shot glass to pour himself a shot.

Gwendolyn watched his arms flex as he picked up the shot and drank it in one swig. He was here on his time off, in secret...

The delusional side of Gwendolyn told her that he came because he wanted to see her, but she would never accuse him of that aloud.