A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 34 | accidentally without logic

Why was it sexy and tingling in all the wrong places?

His tone was serious, far from a threat, but manly enough to toss my breath through a narrow window.

He'd once addressed me as his lady, but today's tune made it more appealing and a thousand times hot.

How did our conversation travel from timid to steamy this fast?

"There's a queue downstairs waiting on my services. Should I take my leave now or rather listen to your arguments for an additional tip?"

Dang, it!

Why didn't I keep in mind the presence of our teenage escort?

Shit, my mouth had ranted like a parrot, pushing me into the arms of embarrassment.

I deepened a bite into my finger, liberating an array of curses under my breath, not daring to spare a single glance at our escort nor casting one at Dwain.

A mouse hole would have been handy, to fit in my bag of humiliation.

"Not at all. Pardon the immaturity of my wife, her excitement is all over the place. Go on, lead the way. If in need of an additional tip, have this, " Dwain brought out a wallet from his pocket and held a couple of dollars to the teenager. "Have these, they are all yours."

"Thank you, sir."

His charitable act was for show.

Who was he trying to impress?

It took minutes for me to glance at our surroundings and pick up clues.

Gosh, Dwain and the escort had already vanished down the hallway, abandoning me to myself.

"Not again Mr. Horton." I threw my hands over my head and quickened my steps through the hallway ahead of me. "I'm coming for you.'

Sweat swiveled down my face, sticking my gown to my skin as my long strides breezed through three-quarters of the continuous corridor.

Coming to an abrupt halt in my track at the sight of him, anxiety stole my stability, threatening to slug me to the floor but fast enough, I pressed myself to the wall.

His back was turned to me as he held his mobile to his ear and leaned one hand to the door of our supposed hotel room.

Our luggage was spread out at the sole of his crossed feet and the money-stalker-escort of ours was out of earshot for my furry.

Taking longer strides to ambush him in his call, I matched behind my husband and slid into his line of sight, my face lifting to his wobbling lips.

"Is this a game to you? Your first attempt was at the airport. What's up with abandoning me, Mr. Horton?"

Behind my words was hidden the pain of abandonment from my parents.

The little bits of abandonment made up my entire eighteen years of living as a Blien with strict precision on how my so-called parents used to treat me.

"Ellis, get out of my sight. After all, it's a common cold and a simple fever."

She would say in annoyance, my mom, Felicia Bien.

If not for papa's sister Evelyn, who knew what would have become of me when my papa stood by his wife and said my ill health wasn't one to be bothered by?

In the physical realm, my dialogue seemed plain but to my soul, I grieved for an outlet, one which could seize me from all these memories.

Nobody understood me and it turned out; I couldn't understand myself either.