Valentine's Miracle

by Celia Crown

  Groaning, I slowly slip away from the crushing hold around my waist. It was a good night's sleep, a lot better than on my first day at the hotel. I never sleep well in hotels, but this one night is worth it.

  It just could be the presence of someone I know in the same bed proves to be an effective layer of protection that allows my body to relax.

  I have no doubt that Silas can protect me from the other bed, but something about physical touches does wonders.

  I roll my neck and sigh, making my way to the bathroom to get ready. I narrow my eyes at the set of clothing on the hanging rack just above the white fluffy towels. It’s black and white, but a hanging black stocking is definitely not Fyodor’s.

  I take it down, looking it over with a note attached on the top and it reads that this is a gift from Fyodor, and in the end, it says that he doesn’t want me to walk around naked. I wish I can stuff this note down his throat.

  I’ll wear yesterday’s clothes if I have to and I can go to my room to change out of the shirt that Fyodor let me borrow as a nightshirt. It’s wrinkled, and I would have felt sorry for it, but after this note, all of that compassion runs out of me just like the water swirling down the sink.

  He can have this shirt dry cleaned on his own time.

  I finish everything in record time to not make too much noise to wake up three grown men. My feet clad in stockings are slippery on the carpeted floor as I make way to the desk without looking at my surroundings.

  Maybe I should wake them up, but I have some documents that I need to finish going over for Fyodor. In order to do that, I need lights, and I don’t know what time it is since none of them wants to wake up.

  I take the files and slip on my heels, looking over my shoulders to gauge their movements on the bed. My heart nearly explodes in turmoil and absolute chaos.

  On the empty side of my bed sleeps Silas rather than Sebastian like I had thought. He is the one in my bed, arm around me and breathing down my neck the whole night. My cheeks burn with a wild tempo of my blood coursing through me as heat flashes under my skin.

  I blink, jerking my head to the side as joy skips with the beat of my heart.

  Silas could have slept on the chair or even on the floor, but he chose to sleep in the same bed as me regardless of how much he loathes me. That man tends to avoid me like the plague, and after that devastating day at the lunch spot, he made it clear that he hates me.

  It hurt then, and it hurts now when I hear the echo of his words.

  I swallow the dryness in my throat, blink away the rim of itchiness in my eyes, and sniff away the stuffiness in my nose.

  This means nothing. Silas sleeping next to me when he has other options doesn’t mean a thing. It’s convenience, and frankly, it’s miserable knowing that I was the last resort. I don’t know why Sebastian and he had come to Fyodor’s room, but I can hazard a guess that Sebastian’s smitten heart wants to be close to Fyodor.

  It’s strange thinking about my childhood friend and my college best friend getting together. I know both of their gross habits and lifestyle full of women, but they seem much more settled down in each other’s presence.

  The Sebastian that I know would launch himself at Fyodor and try to charm him, and Fyodor would have thickened his Russian accent along with extravagant gifts. Neither has done that; it’s almost as if they’re shy, but that’s just ludicrous.

  Narcissism comes with confidence.

  Convincing myself is surprisingly easy, and maybe I have been rejecting the notion of Silas actually wanting to be with me for so long that it’s almost the truth.

  It could be, but I wouldn’t know. I don’t know anything right now, and it’s too early in the morning to be thinking about something this deep.

  I leave the room with my key card and ride down the elevator. It smells of cleaning disinfectant and a slight tinge of orange. I thought lemon would be a natural choice, but this hotel is known to stand out from others.

  The room speaks of how Sebastian and Silas had treated it. One side, mine for the record, is ruffled with clear signs that Sebastian had been rolling in it. Silas’ side has a small mark of what could be a butt imprint, but nothing else is out of place.

  I sit on the bed, call room service for one person in my room while making sure that the men five floors above me get their breakfast half an hour after me. They need to sleep. Sebastian and Silas’ work put more physical strain on their bodies while Fyodor has trouble sleeping without waking up at night.

  Not ten minutes after, loud banging on the door shakes me out of my thoughts and the words on the document blur. I toss the papers and the folder on the desk, stumbling over my heels and making to the door after another series of knocks.

  “W-what—” I swing the door open without looking at who is trying to break down the door.

  The massive frame of Silas stands there with a pair of furious green eyes and a head of tousled dark hair. I instinctively walk back a step, and he closes the distance, steps heavy and a scowl on his face as if I had done something wrong.

  I sure as heck didn’t wake him up form his beauty sleep.

  “What are you doing?” The question comes out as more of a demand, and he isn’t the least sorry about shaving a couple of years off my lifespan with his knocking.

  “Working?” I was going to answer with the obvious, but the energy radiating off his skin wipes any thought of confidence away.

  “My job is to protect you, not play hide-and-seek. Don’t make this more complicated than it already is; just cooperate and work with me.”

  I open my mouth but close it at the last second to come out with something to counter his statement.

  “You were tired,” I end up saying. “I was just going over some documents, but I didn’t want to disturb any of you.”

  “I’m your bodyguard. It is my job to protect you, and I can’t do that if you don’t let me,” he points out.

  My eyebrows raise. “I can’t make you do anything, Silas.”

  “You keep wanting to disappear from me.”

  Whatever transpired during the time I left the room to now, I want to know what made him come to this conclusion. I’m always with him, and I don’t think I have left his sight for five minutes other than using the restaurant and showering.

  “Are you still dreaming?” I ask; that suggestion triggers a glare from those green eyes.

  He’s not dreaming, but I must admit that it feels nice to know that he worries about me even if it’s stemming from his job.

  “I was gone maybe fifteen minutes, I’m okay, and I’m not kidnapped. You don’t have to worry. I was about to send a text message to you.”

  That’s almost the truth. I was going to shoot him a text, but I got busy into the document, and I forgot about it.

  He’s not having my excuse when his lips peel back with a snarl. “You want to avoid me.”

  “I don’t,” I promptly deny.

  Silas was an overthinker in his youth, and it didn’t change when he became an adult. I like that part about him, he would rather be too careful than too reckless, but he does have that hasty side of him.

  “You try to leave when those vultures surrounded me, you went with Fyodor without consulting me on it, and you left this morning before I knew it.”

  Good thing I can explain all of it. “I was buying something, and the ladies’ perfume was too strong for me. About leaving with Fyodor, he’s my friend, and he had something to discuss with me. This morning you were dead to the world, and I didn’t want to wake you up as you were more exhausted than the other day.”

  The edge of his green eyes softens and the frown on his lips smooth away, and Silas sighs with a hand raising to cup my face.

  Red flag number one. He doesn’t voluntarily touch me unless it’s to prevent me from getting hurt. Last night’s sleep must have been something for him to have a change in his personality, and I stop breathing to prevent my stupidity from breaking this soft moment.

  “You stay
where I can see you.”

  His hand tightens, squeezing painfully around my jaw as a choked yelp falls from my lips. It came out of nowhere, and I have no time to address the situation when he keeps my eyes locked with his.

  Nothing about Silas is soft. That’s red flag number two. I should have known that this brute has more ulterior motives than to fulfill my fantasy of a pink and glittery moment.

  “Understand?”

  I nod, groaning at the pressure shifting on my jaw. His strength is not a joke, and I think he can lift cars up if he wants to by how strong he is. This is a one-eighty degree change to the sixteen-year-old boy who was thin and lanky, but now he’s a burly caveman with no manners at all.

  Thank goodness, a knock breaks the tense silence, and he lets go of me. Just as I rub my jaw with a pout and move to the door, he yanks me back by the elbow and clicks his tongue.

  “Stay.”

  “I’m not a dog,” I murmur, moving my lips to tug on the surrounding skins to see if any had fallen off from his unnecessarily rough gesture.

  He’s aware of his own strength, and it’s proven by how much power he protects me from the wild crowds of convention-goers. Silas just wants to demonstrate it to me on a personal level to remind me that he can truly hurt me if he wants.

  “Room service, sir, madam.” The man in a hotel’s uniform bows his head as he pushes a trolley inside the room.

  He’s sweating and nervous, and I don’t blame him for feeling that way. Silas is just a complexed man with even more complicated expressions. He generally looks like he’s going to kill someone or he’s plotting the murder with a blank face.

  I don’t know if I should thank Sebastian or reprimand him for his actions. He chooses one of the scariest people in the company for my protection and the dread doesn’t all come from Silas himself.

  It’s also the uncertain path I travel down during this convention because throwing Silas back into my life can create a meltdown.

  “Thank you,” I say, fishing out cash to tip him.

  The man leaves in a hurry and avoids Silas at all costs. That leaves just the two of us again, and he seems to be back to his usual self, somewhat angry and somewhat impassive.

  Even his expressions are at war with each other.

  I look down at all the food and groans. There is too much, I ordered breakfast, and I expected a decent amount to feed one person, but it comes as a meal for three people. Meals in the States are much bigger in proportions than other countries that I have had the luck of visiting.

  “Come sit.” I wave my hand at Silas, and he glares. I’m so used to it now that it doesn’t bother me as much as it did before. That signature look of his is what makes him Silas.

  “I have to return you to your boss in the same shape or better after this convention. Don’t say I didn’t feed you.” I bite into the buttery bread.

  He snatches a piece of bread, chewing on it in silence as the sunlight darkens by a cloud. My phone lights up with an email; the sender is not someone I recognize. The date is February thirteenth, nothing out of the ordinary while the email is the same.

  The sender finishes the email with a bunch of information at the bottom that tells me she is a marketing manager at a law firm. She wants to know if I would be interested in a tour of the law firm. This tactic is to get me drunk on their employee benefits, but it’s not the first time I have had these emails.

  My math skills aren’t limited to mathematics; they can be used in a variety of subjects with the right amount of knowledge. I have had students in my core classes tell everyone that they either want to be programmers or they want to go into engineering.

  Not a lot of people want to go into accounting, but surprisingly, the majority want to be in the physics job area.

  “I can take care of myself,” Silas says.

  I snap out of my thoughts, swallowing the bread with one eyebrow raised. “I know you can. No one can carry a filled car tire as if it’s a leaf.”

  I swear I saw him roll his eyes. “It’s for training.”

  I have never seen someone train with car tires. Sebastian had sent pictures to me in an angle that is just too voyeuristic to be comfortable. It felt like I was the criminal taking pictures of Silas’ naked back when it was Sebastian that did the crime.

  “Can’t you use normal things, like those prison weight things that every guy puffs out their chest for in movies?”

  It sounds better in my head, but it’s out already so I just proudly finish the sentence. “Not that you look like a prison inmate. I’m just stating an instance, don’t put me in a chokehold.”

  He scoffs, the reflective greens have a tinge of humor in it. I stand by my word, I’m not seeing things. Silas is actually not seeing me in a negative light, and a flush of happiness rolls through me with a blush heating up my cheeks.

  “Normal doesn’t work for me anymore,” he comments and drinks his water.

  “Normal works for everyone,” I insist. “You just strive for more.”

  I don’t know about workout because I have never lifted up a dumbbell in my whole life, but body logic tells me that to maintain is to be normal and to be the best is to have more. I think I read that somewhere in a magazine that Sebastian had to look at women.

  Sometimes I’m embarrassed to know him, and Fyodor too. They’re practically cut from the same cloth, and they could be long lost brothers for all I know.

  “The best.”

  I look up, waiting for him to elaborate. He stills his movements, green eyes piercing at me with unnatural stillness as my heart thumps loudly. The piece of bacon seems to get heavier as the seconds pass.

  “I want to become the best.”

  “Is business that competitive in that world?” I question, confusion nagging in the back of my mind. Silas is more than efficient and one of the most sought-after bodyguards that I know of from the company’s words and the praises of previous clients.

  “I don’t want to be weak.” He pauses, clenching his jaw. “Being weak cost me everything.”

  I lick my lips and wipe them with the napkin. His facial expression changes, as he withdraws into the safety of his shell again. The subconscious move to open up to me means that I’m still somewhat trusted in his heart and I don’t want to drag this insecurity out any longer.

  “Silas,” I call his name, gaining his attention instantly. “When this convention is over, we will talk.”

  I’m not giving him an option to escape again. I have been giving him space and time for the last seven years, and each time I tried, he shut me out because I gave him too much freedom on this matter that involves the both of us.

  I’m putting my foot down, I will get to the bottom of this, and it will be the last thing I do even if the world is ending.

  Once we have the talk and understand where we went wrong, it will be up to him to take the next step, whether it will be out of my life or with me. I tried and tried for him, but he wouldn’t give me a chance despite explaining my side of the story.

  This time, it will be up to him. I won't pressure him, and I won’t give him any ideas. It’s his choice, and he will have to choose what he believes is the best for him.

  We have had Sebastian as the middle-man, essentially a buffer, between us and it could be like that for the rest of our lives. The worst-case scenario would be that we remove ourselves from each other’s lives.

  It’ll hurt, but I don’t see any other options.

  “We should talk, but not now,” Silas agrees, and I was expecting a fight.

  I smile, a heavy stone lifting from my heart. “Thank you.”

  “What for?” He’s perplexed, but he isn’t withdrawn either.

  “For giving me a chance.”

  Chapter Eight

  Silas

  The snow is getting thicker as it continues to fall from the gray sky. Weather reports have predicted a snowstorm, and everyone is recommended to avoid going outside if possible, but the small dots of moving cars from belo
w the window still go around.

  Victoria had mentioned that she isn’t going to attend today’s event. The main attraction in the convention is music and a warning had been issued by the people hosting the event that it will be loud with flashing lights. Those with health conditions and epilepsy can attend, but the event hosts will not be responsible for life-threatening injuries.

  Attend at your own risk is the baseline message. It doesn’t stop people from dressing up in their tackiest outfit and sneaking alcohol into the hall.

  Victoria had to take a call in the hallway when the reception in the room is disrupted by the snowstorm. We had seen people in glitter dresses, purple suits, and crazy hairstyles walking down the halls and into the elevators.

  It’s a damn circus in the hotel. Sebastian and Fyodor decided to give the event a try to see if they like it, but I’m fine with staying in this quiet space. If Victoria had wanted to go, I would be enduring sweaty people and their lack of personal space.

  Just thinking about it makes me want to break out in hives.

  As I close my eyes and lean back into the chair, a sneeze shatters the silence along with ruffled papers. Victoria sniffs, rubbing her nose and shuddering. She closes the file in her hands and set it on the table, and she’s had that folder the entire morning, and I don’t know the contents of it.

  I prefer not to look into it; there are confidentiality issues in every aspect of working. I don’t want to get her into trouble because she’s working in an unsafe environment, and I would like to avoid consequences thrown at me for being curious.

  She sneezes again. “Sorry.”

  I stand when she does; my eyes follow her frantic hands as she searches through her suitcase for warm clothes. Another sneeze wrecks her body as she digs out a bottle of medicine for cold, and the familiar brand is like a brick hurling into my heart.

  I never thought I could hate that brand and those colors together more than I already do, but it stirs up memories that I buried. It was the same brand when I first saw her again, and it was just on her nightstand, mocking me and silently laughing at the miserable feelings burning into my skin.