Emily wasn’t surprised to find many pretty – and no doubt pricey – outfits when she opened the closet of the guest room in which she was supposed to stay.
“Nobody doubts your ability to provide, Theo,” she said fondly. “Why do you insist on pampering me so much?”
He wasn’t there to hear her. She just expressed her opinion, addressing no one.
She first chose black skinny jeans and a white top that had a plunging V-neckline. One could never go with black and white, she reasoned.
She recalled when he had told her she was underestimating him, and that brought chills down her spine – both of physical awareness and crippling fear. What if he wasn’t a businessman but rather some mafia heir or something.
That would explain the wealth and the bodyguards that were ready to do his bidding.
She briefly wondered if he had ever had bodyguards of his own following him around on their dates – and she was too blind to notice them.
She then shook her head, trying to dismiss the silly thoughts away. She had googled him, had she not? Even though information could be manipulated and, worse yet, bought, she wanted to believe that he was indeed a businessman.
She put on the outfit she had chosen, and started applying make-up lightly – the only way she knew how – nothing as fancy as what Cecilia had done to her the other day on their first official date.
She was almost finished with her liquid lipstick when there was a knock at the door. She chose to finish applying before she went to open the door, and the sigh of him almost knocked the breath out of her. He was none other than the very man who haunted her dreams. He starred in them all nowadays.
“You look beautiful,” were his simple words.
She thanked him in a sweet tone, and was trying hard not to get lost in the depth of his gray eyes.
She held on the door for fear of falling, her knees wobbling because of his intense stare.
“Shall we, milady?” He asked in a tone that bordered on the aristocratic. And she couldn’t help but wonder if mafia men spoke like that.
“Yes, let’s,” she nodded at him and grabbed his outstretched hand.
They left the estate, and were soon enough on their way to a rather cozy restaurant – not as fancy as the one he had taken her to on the third month anniversary of her parents’ passing.
On the way there, she put on music to fill the silence, and sang to it too. She noticed he didn’t once sing along. Did he not know any of these songs? What kind of life did he lead? Or worse, did he know the songs but didn’t feel compelled to sing along? If so, was he even human?
When they reached their destination, he got out almost in a hurry, and opened the door gallantly to her.
“Milady, if you’d be so kind as to grant me this honor,” he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, as he reached out for her.
“Of course, dear friend,” she played along.
He put a hand over where his heart was, and said in a mock hurt tone, “Dear friend, you say? Why must you wound me so?”
“My apologies, gentleman,” she batted her eyelashes at him.
“None required,” he said in a refined tone that should have tipped her off as to his upbringing or something… but she just thought it was part of the game.
She giggled, positively amused by his antics, and he smiled at her.
“You never cease to amaze me, Theodore King,” she told him softly. “Who thought you could be so playful too?”
“Am I usually too… intense?” He tilted his head to the side in a perplexed manner.
“Yes, most of the time you have my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest,” she deadpanned, nodding at him.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, dorogaya,” he told her softly.
“How come you chose this restaurant tonight?” She then asked.
“Because I believe you’ll love Italian considering how much you love pasta,” he told her with a wink.
“Busted,” she giggled good-humoredly.
And so, their date went on smoothly… until it was time to head back, that was.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
They had just left the restaurant, and were about to get into the car when a man’s voice reached their ears.
“Fancy meeting you here with your little paramour, prince Theodore.”
Paramour? Prince Theodore? Why is he calling us funny names? Emily couldn’t help but wonder.
Theodore’s stance went from relaxed to stiff, and his expression turned sour.
“And who might you be?” He asked tersely.
“Your worst nightmare, oh Theos!” The man claimed with a sinister smile.
Emily could have sworn she saw Theodore’s eyes flash crimson at the disrespect. She blinked to get her eyesight back to normal, only his eyes were still red.
“What’s going on?” She asked timidly.
“Get in the car, dorogaya,” he said softly. “And don’t open it unless I emerge victorious from the upcoming fight.”
“What? What fight?” She asked in alarm.
“Emily,” he said her name stiffly as he dodged a punch thrown at him . “Get in the damned car.”
It was the first time he had repeated a sentence. And that made her oblige him at once. She didn’t want to anger him even though she wanted to be by his side.
And then she closed the doors.
She realized as she watched him fight bare-handed – dodging at times, blocking at times, and then giving the man powerful kicks at others – that she had indeed underestimated him.
He wasn’t nearly as vulnerable and weak as she thought a guy brought up in money would be. Quite the opposite actually.
Thanks to her opening the window ever so slightly, she then vaguely heard him say something that sounded like, “You won’t be touching my mate any time soon.” But the words were growled out and thus she couldn’t be sure.
Who was he talking about? She was his girlfriend, not his mate – wasn’t that just another term for friend in Australia?
She wished she could give him a hand, help him out somehow, but she knew she had no strength to speak of that would enable her to help him. She’d be a nuisance to him at best.
He was about to come out victorious of the fight when he stopped altogether, and asked one single question, “Who sent you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man spat out.
“I’ll give you double the pay they’ve promised you,” he bargained as he blocked another kick.
“Not interested,” the man sang-song. “You talk big for someone who ate at this plain restaurant.”
“Suit yourself,” Theodore shrugged and was taking a few steps forward for the first time since the fight. And that was when Emily realized he had not budged one inch since the start of the fight.
But now, he had moved. And that surely spelled trouble for the man.
But the nameless attacker was within seconds holding a gun in his hand.
She gasped in shock, and was ready to exit the car, when her boyfriend glared at her almost as if he anticipated her reaction. She ended up imploring him with her eyes not to do anything foolish…
Her silent pleas weren’t well received, it would seem, for he took another step forward challenging the man to do something with that weapon of his.
“Theodore,” she cried out in anguish, her eyes closing instinctively, as a shot was fired.
When she opened them, she had to hold back a cry. He was hurt. His hand was bleeding… but the man who had dared to point a gun at him was on the ground – unconscious or dead, she didn’t know.
Theodore’s crimson eyes then focused on her, and she could almost see the worry swirling in those mesmerizing eyes of his. Besides, a frown – she guessed it was a pained one – had long since replaced his earlier open expression.
She got out of the car in a hurry and went to his side. “Are you okay, Theo? Should I call 911? Or should I drive you to the hospital? I’m not very good at driving though, never mind this kind of car…”
She was stress-rambling.
He simply smiled at her, inhaled deeply once, twice, and then his eyes returned to their usual gray color.
“No need, dorogaya,” he told her softly. “I’ll heal soon enough.”
“What do you mean you’ll heal soon enough?” She demanded to know. “Besides, why are your eyes changing colors all of sudden?”
He ruffled her hair with the hand that wasn’t bleeding, and then told her to get in the car again. She didn’t dare to argue and did as he said. He closed the door after her, and was within seconds next to her in the driver seat.
“Are you going to ignore me now?” She asked, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Of course not,” he deadpanned.
“Why aren’t you answering my questions then?” She sniffled, the overwhelming fright catching up on her. “You need medical treatment for your hand, asap.”
“Dorogaya, medical treatment is for humans, and I am not human,” he told her simply as the engine roared to life and he started driving through the city roads.
“I beg your pardon?” She exclaimed, unable to believe him despite everything she had witnessed, but also wondering if this was a new strategy of his – to either scare her away or scare her into his awaiting arms.