Valentine's Miracle

by Celia Crown

“I can put in a request for another if this bothers you,” she offers, and the tone in her voice cuts deep, way deeper than any weapon known to man. “I don’t want to force you to be uncomfortable. I’m sure they can have someone here before my flight tomorrow.”

  I spin around at her offer, and it upsets me more than Sebastian blindsiding me on this job. The thought of having another man being in the same hotel room as her and inside her house grinds me in the wrong way, and I hate this instant reaction that I would come to regret a minute later.

  “I can do my job,” I snap at her.

  She jumps, clearly startled and frightened at the subtle accusation that I can’t do my job just because we have a history.

  “Right,” she says, the strained smile on her face changed to the same beautiful smile that I have loved. “Do you want anything to drink? I have soda, juice, and milk, but water is okay too—”

  “I’m not your friend.”

  That comes out wrong, and involuntary guilt swallows me whole when her face flashes pure hurt before it’s masked by the same smile. She’s good at this, she’s always been good at hiding her feelings, and I hate that about her too.

  I wanted to say that I wasn’t here to be her friend, but it came out wrong. Everything about this is wrong, so one little mistake isn’t going to make this any worse.

  “Okay,” she agrees, light fading from her eyes while her smile grows wider.

  It’s the worst. I’m the worst.

  This is going to be a long week.

  Chapter Three

  Victoria

  “Get up now.”

  I have never been woken up so violently.

  My thick cover got ripped off my body in one rough tug and the sweet dream that I was having escaped with the warmth. However, nothing beats the voice of impatient Silas when he demands that I come out of the covers.

  Thank goodness I have more than one blanket. It’s a habit that I have always had because I get extremely cold during the night no matter if it’s summer or the brittle winter.

  Winter in this city is basically just really cold autumn to some states, but to the locals, it’s hell freezing over, and everyone is racing to break open their closets to get the warmest winter coats.

  Another warning comes when the curtains in my bedroom part rather aggressively that the bright sunlight swallows the darkness. I groan, rolling over to the side and pressing my face to my pillow.

  “Now,” he repeats, rudely letting his tone bounce in my head.

  I roll on my back, a yawn forcing my morning breath into my nose as I blink up at the ceiling. Seeing Silas in his natural state of gruffness and angry eyebrows, it beats my alarm clock ringtone in terms of heart-attack inducing moments.

  “Okay, okay,” I say as I admit defeat.

  I pull myself up, and he glares at me again. Silas stays where he is at the end of my bed with those burly arms crossed over his chest. The expectancy in his face is clear as he waits with another snarl on his lips.

  I look over to my nightstand to find my clock showing an hour that is too early for any normal human being to be up at, and the bottle of relief medication for stomach is crushed.

  I don’t remember taking my sleeping frustration on the poor bottle.

  Yesterday was an odd experience. Silas had become my bodyguard for the convention. I offered a room, so he doesn’t have to wake up early to come to the airport with me, and he prudently accepted, and he had scouted the house too.

  Then he went into his room, avoiding the heck out of me as if I was going to rob him of his freedom if he didn’t stay away from me.

  I would be lying if I said that hadn’t hurt.

  Now, he’s being unreasonable for waking me up at the unholy hour of six in the morning. Six, not a soul on the planet believes that this hour is for anything but sleeping. Not Silas though, he’s a creature that does what he wants.

  Last night was a struggle to sleep knowing he was in my house, but it was worse when I heard my phone indicate that the sensors in my home had picked up movement. I didn’t set the sensors on when I’m sleeping or out of my home to catch paranormal activities. I wanted to make sure no one broke into my home—like any reasonable person.

  Silas had woken up at five. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but I still got an hour of sleep before he had brusquely woken me up with that signature frown on his face.

  Silas hisses, “You have ten minutes to come out.”

  With that, he’s out of my bedroom as if he hadn’t just tried to burn me with the morning sunlight. Winter sunlight is worse in my home because I wanted to get a house that has more natural sunlight to help me work harder.

  The door slams shut, and my shoulders can’t contain a startled jerk. I sigh, kicking off my covers to find some clothes for a shower. That’ll wake me up with a cup of coffee too. I have been off caffeine for the last couple of days because the raw oysters plus the stuffed mushrooms at the event were not my stomach’s favorite guests.

  I practically lived in my bathroom for the first day, and I had to take the stomachache medication to feel better.

  All the articles had said that it should go away on its own and through my digestive system, but I had to bear the pain of needles poking at my intestines.

  Today is the day that stomach doesn’t decide to suddenly wring itself into knots, but I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. Especially not with Silas here when my tummy is halfway into a tangled mess.

  After the shower, I might have stayed in my bedroom longer than Silas had given me. I was nervous about facing him, but I also had this giddiness in me because I get to see him.

  It’s a complicated whirl of emotions that I don’t know how to decipher.

  The moment I step out of my bedroom, he was there with a glower and a hand almost to the door handle. I swallow thickly when the expression on his face darkens with dismay. I thought he was going to say something, but he turns around and walks off to who knows where.

  I figure that I should let him get rid of his aggression in my house rather than have him explode in the middle of the airport. TSA is not that lenient, and I know that there are air marshals there. They don’t do anything because their assignment is to protect the flight that they are assigned on so even if a crazy person with a knife appears, they let the TSA agents handle it.

  It’s also about stepping on toes and crossing jurisdictions. I could be wrong on so many different levels. I only know what I see on television when the news is on.

  Yes, I’m one of those girls that watch the news instead of gliding in messaging apps to flirt with the first person I find attractive.

  “Why haven’t you packed yet?” he asks curtly.

  My tongue burns as I sip the coffee in my cup as I choke on the small droplets being inhaled into my throat. I didn’t hear his steps and given how big he is, I assume he would make some sound. He doesn’t even breathe loudly, and that’s odd since he’s so angry.

  I clear my throat, wincing at the soreness as I set the mug down. I wouldn’t want him to get an idea of using the mug as a weapon if I say something offensive.

  “I didn’t have time?” That comes out more of a question than the answer he wanted. “But I’ll pack right now.”

  Scuttling to my bedroom, I haul out a suitcase perfect for one week of clothes and necessities. I have never packed so quickly in my life before, but I don’t want to risk giving more reason for Silas to be a prickly tiger.

  Saying he’s a porcupine would be insulting to his size.

  I come out to the kitchen in record time, hair messed up and tied in two loose braids with big scrunchies securing them. He’s still where he was before, and those angry eyebrows are not so expressive anymore as he blatantly ignores me.

  I look over at the counter and see a yellow envelope which wasn’t there yesterday. I take it and flip it over to see the name, and it’s addressed to me by Sebastian; the mail has been sent through an overnight courier.

  “We’re going to be there
for a week, do you need anything?” I ask with my back turned towards him, finding it easier to not have my heart going to town with a rhythm that I’m not capable of dealing with.

  “No,” Silas curtly answers.

  “Not even clothes? I mean, you can’t wear the same clothes for a week. That’s just unhygienic.”

  His silence is long, and I risk a look over my shoulder. A squeak catches in my throat when his green eyes are set on me, ready to breathe fire from those snarling lips.

  “Don’t worry,” I say as I spin around with a laugh. “Sebastian left some clothes here, and he left his underwear too, which aren’t used and new from the manufacturer that he had begged to get his hands on.”

  He frowns, confusion etches on his face when the snarling lessens.

  “He’s still a child at heart. Every weekend is sleepover time for him if he isn’t working.” I shake my head opening the content of the yellow mail. “You can take his brand-new pack of briefs as compensation for dragging you into this.”

  Gradually but surely, the frown leaves his face, and he frankly scrutinizes me with a pair of analytical green eyes. No obvious emotion and no subtle body language to let me know what is likely going to happen next. Then he grunts and drops his gaze on the kitchen island, his eyebrows curling inwardly as he concentrates on the design of the marble.

  I laugh under my breath as my heart gives a light tug at Silas. He may have grown, but he can’t outgrow the tendencies that he thinks too much and does things by himself because he doesn’t like to be a bother or owe anyone anything.

  Taking out the passport in the envelope, I flip it to see whose it is and it’s Silas face on the page. I tilt my head and shrug my shoulder; Sebastian must have found it and overnight mailed it to my house.

  Silas is not someone who is forgetful, but he didn’t bring his passport with him to my house. Maybe he was planning on returning to get it, or this is a ploy that he thought of to get away from me.

  That would be stupid, and Silas is not stupid. From Sebastian’s active stories. Silas takes his job very seriously and is one of the most hard-working employees at the company. He’s quite popular too. Clients want to book him for events and any public appearances that require him to be there.

  Women tend to avoid him while men have to book at least three months in advance, and the company doesn’t allow long-term protection given that the bodyguards are still properties of the company.

  That doesn’t stop Sebastian from telling me that women pay top dollar to have him be their fulltime protection while rich CEOs want Silas to be on their call twenty-four hours a day. They think money is going to motivate these two boys, but they are men now, and they still retain that prideful demeanor.

  “It’s yours,” I say, handing the passport to him.

  He takes it wordlessly; a strange look crosses his face before he buries it by making his eyes fall on the passport.

  The recognition on his face comes like a tidal wave, and he growls under his breath. It’s low and quiet, but it resonates in my heart so loudly that a shiver travels down my spine.

  A beep on my phone indicates that someone is at the front gate, and it’s the driver from a week ago. I had called in the car service again, and he is the one that frequents this area the most, so he knows it well, and he can help navigate traffic easier if he isn’t new to the area.

  Silas is guarded when he sees the driver, and if there is a coat of fur on him, it would have been raised with a hiss from his lips.

  Just like the past, he isn’t good with strangers. He almost hates strangers as much as he hates being told what to do. Those two facts combined make me question why he had taken the job as a bodyguard where he has to meet people, and he has to listen to his clients’ desires.

  The car pulls up to the airport terminal, and the driver kindly took the suitcase from the trunk. I tip him, and he wishes us a wonderful journey. I don’t know why I booked plane tickets so early in the morning, but I remember that it’s for the sake of productivity.

  Check-in is easy because having booked first-class tickets give us better benefits than the economy class. The suitcase had to be weighted so when I try to lift it up, it was heavier than I expected.

  I bump the edge on my leg and nearly choke on a shriek of pain. Before it can land on my toes, Silas takes the suitcase with a sigh and drops it on the conveyer belt. He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the eye roll coming as he remains impassive.

  My backpack hangs on my shoulders with the things that I need. The flight shouldn’t be long, but I don’t want to risk delays caused by unstable weather. There’s no snow here, but that doesn’t mean the wind is going to give up on causing chaos for planes, especially when it’s close to the ocean.

  The lady behind the desk presents our flight tickets and our passports. I take mine and Silas takes his while the woman glances between us. She must sense something wrong, and she turns her eyes to me.

  She narrows her eyes. “Are you alright, ma’am? You seem exhausted.”

  That’s because I am. Having to wake up at six in the morning will do that to my energy level, but I don’t think that’s what she’s asking. My mind reels at the possibilities of her questions before a thought occurred to me.

  Human trafficking is common, and airplanes are one of the biggest transportations that are used to do it.

  I shake my head with a smile. “I’m fine. Just woke up too early.”

  She isn’t fully convinced, and my body tenses when Silas wraps his arm around my shoulders, worsening her suspicion. He’s trying to appear non-threatening and letting her know that he isn’t a bad man.

  I play along and give his hand a pat. He doesn’t flinch away from my touch while we walk away. I could feel her eyes on me, and it’s easier to shake off than the pair of eyes drilling into my head from Silas.

  When we’re out of sight and walk into the customs area, he takes his arm away and regrettably the warmth his body provides too. His scent lingers on my clothes, and I’m sad to say that I like the way I fit into his arm while the protective stance makes my heart throb.

  Nothing happens until we get onto our flight and into our seats. His seat is right next to mine while I take the window seat. He says his seat has a better view of his surroundings. I learn to not question his actions too much and looking into it would only cause confusion on my part, so I just let the plane ride draw me to sleep.

  That doesn’t happen peacefully. My stomach is starting to act up again. The phantom raw oysters are coming back to haunt me. Turning around and stuffing my face into the nauseating smell of the pillow provided to me and the blanket on my body does nothing but make the smell worse.

  I bury my face into the crook of my arm and breathe my natural scent.

  “Sit up,” Silas’ voice grunts, it’s low and near my ear, as to not disrupt people around us.

  I peer at him over my shoulder, whimpering as another turbulence rocks my tummy. This is beyond motion sickness, and the drop of altitude kicks my gut into my esophagus, and it’s nearly unbearable.

  I have nothing in my stomach to dispose of to make me feel better, but a small pill laying in the hand of Silas seems to be a sign from the lights that I’m going to survive this ride.

  “It’s pain medicine,” he points out.

  “Where’d you get it?” I ask; curiosity is a powerful thing despite nausea.

  “From your house,” he answers and pulls a cup of water to my face.

  Whatever makes him think he needs to take pain medications with him, I’m glad, and I’m not the least mad about him going through my stuff.

  I said yesterday that he could eat whatever he wants, sleep wherever he wants, and do whatever he wants to do. I don’t have strict rules at my house as long as he doesn’t wear shoes inside.

  “Thank you,” I murmur after the pill got washed down with the water.

  He stays still for a moment, but I’m too dizzy to keep eye contact, so I just put my face back int
o the crook of my arm.

  I don’t know how long I have been sleeping, but when the air hostess comes to wake me up about landing, I find another blanket on me while a second pillow is behind me to support my neck in case the turbulence knocks my head back too much.

  I look at Silas, and his face is blank, void of emotions, and he refuses to look at me. I know he can feel me looking at him from the slight narrowing of his eyes. Then I noticed, his seat doesn’t have a blanket or a pillow.

  A wave of warmth fills my heart, and a giggle escapes my lips. “Thank you for the blanket and pillow.”

  He sneers, shooting me a soft glare. It’s nothing like the ones that he gave me earlier.

  “Don’t thank me,” he growls. “My job is simpler when you’re not deadweight.”

  I didn’t receive a vicious glare, nor did I get a cold shoulder. It’s progressing between us, and I would like to keep it going. He’s a slow warmer, and it’ll take a long time to be cordial with me, but I’m willing to take the challenge if it means to have my friend back.

  One step at a time. There is no need to be too impatient and too greedy.

  I can do this.

  Chapter Four

  Silas

  I can’t do this.

  Seeing her in clothes not meant for the eyes of other men hits closer to home than the business aura around her when she talks on the phone.

  After we had landed and dropped off at the hotel, Victoria was greeted with a box of gifts on the bed with a note to it. It was from the people who are holding this convention for genius, essentially a way for poachers to get to know which company is willing to pay top dollars for the intelligence of those invited.

  The first event, out of the seven, starts in two hours and she’s been on the phone for the last thirty minutes to make sure that room service would be there when we return to the room. After she had seen what the convention has offered as food, she was not happy about it and grumbled about the lack of fast-food options.

  I hate that I don’t find it strange. Her habit of unhealthy eating came with her into adulthood, and it’s tugging on the strings of my protectiveness. Having these feelings resurface again after so long in dormancy, I have no way of dealing with them on my own without time and space to think properly.