DARREN.

"Your record is too loud." I knocked on the door of the hotel room. I had left to get us coffee as requested by her majesty, the royalist pain in the ass, Aya Huseinni, and when I came back she was already knee-deep in shutting me out.

And the door.

She couldn't ignore me forever. Last night was a culmination of a haze–of lust and sleep deprivation I didn't know what was real or fake. I don't remember what I said or didn't say; what I did or didn't do–all I could think about was the stupid, rash-decisioned kiss we shared. When I woke up, I was promptly discarded on the floor; but I didn't mind, save for the fact that the bed was empty and made. I spent the whole morning trying to talk to her, to be in presence, not because I thought she was beautiful or that her perfume lingered in the air I breathed when she came and went. This was my job. She was my job, and I was going to continue to do it weather she liked it or not.

I set our coffee tray on am empty lobby table. I sighed, letting my head fall back as I sat in the chair. God, I'd been running like a cat trying to chase her down all morning I hadn't realized how busted my feet were.

"Long day?" Chimed Dina from a different off-side table, her legs crossed over the other, her glasses, big, round, and black, shielding her face. She had a magazine to her nose.

I tensed at her comment. I closed my eyes and took a deep, concentrated breath. She already knew the answer. "Put in a good word for me?" I took a sip of my coffee, silently cursing to myself that if Aya didn't make herself known now, her drink would get cold. In knowing her, she'd still drink it even if it was cold. The woman ate peanut butter straight from the jar, bloody hell.

Through my lashes, I saw a pair of legs strutting towards me, and the sound of the white heels echoed. She swerved, sitting on the empty seat in front of me. "Quitting already?" Dina asked, putting the magazine off to the side.

I wasn't impressed. "I might have to since my job isn't here."

Her friend remained calm. "First of all, Mr. Alexander, Aya isn't your job. And second, I know you know something."

There was a lot of things I knew, but so much of Aya Huseinni and her family's lives I didn't. As far as I was concerned, she was my client and her brother was my employer. A glint sparkled in the woman's green eyes. What the hell was this? "Of course she told you." I held in an unbecoming sound.

She grinned at me. "She's my best friend." she crossed her arms. "And you're fine."

I raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

She scoffed, shaking her head and turning to the side. "Not the point. She'll come around."

I didn't have time. We had to go on the red carpet in T-minus five hours and I needed to see her. To be there. I could not lose my job. A sensation pulled in the pit of my stomach, my skin ablaze. The bloody kiss.

"It wasn't–"

Dina stood, her mouth closed as she laughed. She removed her sunglasses. "Tell that to the princess."

I followed her suit, taking the cups with me. She wouldn't budge either. "I can't."

She walked away. She shrugged. "Oh well, not my problem."

I wanted to swig the coffee cups and throw them in the air. The kiss... the kiss was nothing but a mistake. That did not give Aya the pleasantry of ignoring my existence. Whether she liked it or not, we were a packaged deal.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a spot of satin blue dot my vision. Then I looked down, and saw the top of brown lush head of hair.

I stepped away, attempting to give her space.

"Oh, you look lovely," beamed her friend as they embraced in a hug. Her fingers brushed over her curls. "And your hair! Beautiful."

Aya giggled. She turned, her eyes fixed on the coffee cups in my hand and grabbed mine.

She took a sip.

Dina gave me a look, grin resurfacing.

I glared at her.

"Your hair looks nice." I knew a thing or two about hair care. Janet might have been mighty annoying growing up, she was still my sister and her definition of fun (when our mother wasn't home) was doing my hair and make up.

And I meant it. I hadn't seen her all day, and now that I had, I couldn't look away. It was beautiful. I could only imagine how the dress would pair with it.

Aya glanced up at me, but didn't say anything in return. "Nin, do you hear something?"

Another sip. I looked at my coffee cup that was swaddled in her hands. It already had a lipstick stain on it. We looked at each other. Please, talk to me.

"Nope," she said.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep well last night." her fingers drummed around the styrofoam cube. Her nails looked to be sporting a fresh coat of paint. White.

"I'm sorry," she told her. Aya's piercing gaze was still stuck on me. She never faltered. "Sleeping in one bed is quite the challenge."

Her lips slowly parted from the tiny hole in the cup. Her breath smelled of brewed cappuccino. "Tell me about it." She didn't move. You hear that? Her eyes spoke for her.

She turned on her heel, and I almost grabbed her wrist out of instinct. Instead, I watched her go. Fine. Whatever. If she didn't want to talk, I wouldn't force her. I supposed it was for the best. She was doing my job for me; and she made it clear time and time again she didn't like me, so why bother, right?

This was what she wanted.

Cut-clear professionalism in its finest.

Bodyguards don't kiss their clients.

AYA.

"Why aren't you squirming?" asked Millie, who laid back comfortably in her plush chair as the makeup girl applied a hefty load of rouge to her cheeks.

I couldn't answer. And even if I did, I was almost sure I'd fuck that up too.

Over the course of the past twenty-four hours, all I could think about was him. His arms around me in that stuffy, freezing hotel room; his breath hot, warming me up without any issue or give; his lips on mine. Damn it. I didn't know anymore. I didn't know what I was doing. When we were in the car, I had never felt so safe in my entire life.

I hadn't felt that kind of peace in a long time. And damn, did it feel really fucking good. So good. Too good.

"I just want to get this over with," I finally mustered something normal out of my usually obnoxious mouth. "I..."

"I can't believe you kissed him," said Dina, who stood alone at the vanity, digging her skin into the front of the counter space. She was applying mascara. In the morning while I did my hair, Dina had been in my room and I (ashamed) confessed that Darren and I shared a kiss the night before.

I groaned, sinking in my seat. I didn't want to even imagine what my hair looked like now. "I know!" I moped in defeat. "It was a mistake, believe me..."

Milicent choked a chortled. "Unexpected kisses are the best, don't sweat it, rabbit."

That was coming from the girl who decided to get hitched to the son of a well-known talk show host. The show Dina was in. The show Emaad was in. the show all of our friends would be on–and eventually me.

Millie wasn't one to talk about any of this. She'd tease me restlessly about this. I was not ready. "Did you like it?" Millicent asked. She held a hand mirror and admired her look. "It's beautiful," she complemented the makeup artist with a bright smile, "thank you."

The makeup girl moved to work on me next. Both Dina and I gasped at our friend's outrageous question. I blushed. Deep. I stared at her, speechless.

Talk about silenced.

She took my absence in words as her cue to say, "oh, my God! You did!"

My face fell. At least I thought it did. It was moving in a way I couldn't control. My lips dipped, curved upwards. My eyebrows furrowed.

I was smiling.

I was smiling like a fool because I did like it.

I liked it a lot.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

"I didn't," I countered, biting my tongue in the process and turned my face away. I crossed my arms.

"A girl only smiles like that when she likes something," Dina commented from afar.

"Or someone," Millie said helpfully, her tone light and teasing. She quirked an eyebrow.

I squirmed in my seat this time, a fuzzy feeling lodged in my abdomen. I folded my arms over my robe-covered chest. "Maybe a little," I admitted. I couldn't believe what I had done. What I had admitted to. Granted, my friends knew well enough not to snitch, but everyone else...

My parents.

My extended family.

My brother.

The public.

God, it was suffocating. And in just four hours, we'd be on the red carpet in Paris for the whole world to see. For Darren to see me from behind the curtains. The dress. My hair. His compliment.

I was a fool.

A fool smitten with her personal guard.

The remembrance of his fiery touch ablaze my skin last night, I craved it. I needed to apologize for ignoring him for this morning. Giving him the silent treatment was cruel of me, but it was all I knew what to do.

My heart raced at the thought of being alone with him again. What if I couldn't open the door? What if he wouldn't let me leave? My heart sank–what if he hasn't forgive me?

Ever since the accident, and even before that when I was a little kid, my behavior and actions were always policed and scolded over. I was never allowed to cry or show emotion because that was "weakness". If I smiled too much I was seen as an idiot; and if I didn't I was heartless. I couldn't win the uphill battle of pleasing everyone.

But what about me? Where was the compassion for me?

Millie handed me her hand mirror. "You blanked out on us again, rabbit," she said sympathetically, "but, here's your mirror. I don't need it anymore. I'm gonna go get changed the venue is an hour away and we're all going in a limo! How exciting!" she stood and hugged me before cleaning up her side of the dressing room and left.

"You're going to be okay," said Dina as she removed her pin curls. "It's just nerves. Your feelings, all of it, it will pass." something in her shift in voice was genuine, earnest. Like she was coming from experience.

I nodded. My friends were right. I was over thinking it. It was just feelings, and as long as I didn't act on them any longer, I would be fine.

I should be fine.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. my lips parted, breath caught. I looked different.

I was transformed. It was someone I didn't recognize in the best way possible. For a sliver of a second, I felt beautiful. Genuinely beautiful.

My freshly painted nails grazed my cheek, my lips a dusty shade of red.

"Oh, by the way, you drank out of Darren's coffee cup," Dina said mid-packing up her things. What?

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked. At the sole mention of his name, my heart quickened. I'd see him again. Today. Tonight at the after party. Tomorrow when we board the plane. And the days after that.

Everyday.

Was I... was I missing him? Eugh.

"When you entered the lobby, remember? Darren was there too with your guys' coffee and you took a sip out of his cup," she explained. She zipped up her travel-sized makeup bag.

I blinked. "No wonder it tasted funny," I said, the god-awful bitter taste making a ton of sense. "But why does it matter?" I took one last look into the mirror and composed myself before going to her.

We walked out of the room together, side by side. She shrugged, a smug grin on her face. Oh no. "He drank out of it before you did."

My face paled. This wasn't funny anymore. Well, it never was. "Why do you keep doing this to me?" I groaned, finding an elevator and stepped inside. Our group was on the third floor.

"Because you're an idiot," she said, tone stiff. As if I didn't already know that.

I was ready to confront my mistakes and put it all behind me, the trouble was I didn't know what Darren thought. I hadn't known what he was thinking all day and it was killing me inside.

I didn't want to give in; to completely let my guard down and own up to my misgivings, but I knew that it was the only option in order for us to move forward. It just... Couldn't happen again. At all. Under any circumstances.

I rolled my eyes at her jab. "I already know that."

"Take it from me, Bunny, coming from someone who dated your brother, it's not worth the heartache." She passed me a sideways look. "I almost lost you once, and I don't want that to happen again."

I frowned. I had to agree with her statement. I couldn't let my emotions get to me this time around. I had done that a total of one time before and it cost me losing my job in the process.

"I agree," I said, a wave of clarity passing through me, "but I do owe him an apology for ignoring him, it's the least I can do. I was idiot."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "The poor man was worried sick."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?" it came out more of a shocked tone than I had anticipated. He was thinking of me?

Drat–of course he was, I was his client. I shook my head.

Dina wasn't a lick worried. There was no evident trace of concern on her face. "It also helps that he knows that I know, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Have a great one apologizing, and know your limits."

The elevator doors pushed open accompanied by a soft jingle. The both of us walked out and swerved down the hall to go into our rooms to change. Forget about stressing over apologizing, I'd done that countless times already, I had to figure out a way to put on the dress with minimal assistance. It was a real piece, but notoriously delicate and frail. I could only hope that the straps wouldn't break this time. I had to get it fitted couture, so trust in the work was a must.

I said goodbye to Dina as I approached my hotel room. I shifted from foot to foot, my head down to keep a semi-low profile (despite it being a luxury building). My hand trembled as it hovered over the door. I sucked in a deep breath to embrace myself to knock first before entering.

One, two, three.

"Darren, may I come in?" I asked politely, my voice loud enough for him to hear. No answer. "Hello?"

As I inched closer to the closed door, I heard a muffled voice speaking, but it wasn't to me. At least I didn't think.

"I love you, too."

I opened it.

To my astonishment, Darren was hunched over the small side table in our shared room, the telephone in his hands. I waited by the door, careful not to disturb him.

Whoever he was speaking to, my mind went to a million different possibilities. But the biggest one was another woman. Why'd he say he loved them? Who was the person? I knew better than to ask outright, but damn it, it stung knowing he had the capability of loving others but me.

He said it himself.

He didn't hate me, but that didn't mean he loved me, either.

His back was to me, and he'd likely been too engrossed in the conversation to even notice my presence. It was a sight to see him so relaxed. He generated this softness I didn't know he had within him. The way he spoke on the phone to this mystery woman was gentle and sweet and kind. He must have loved them a lot to be this way.

I looked away. My face flushed. This was wrong. So wrong. I wasn't allowed to be here. I was about to turn the other way when he said, "tell the kids their uncle misses them. I'm glad to know you and the wains are adjusting well to Westchester."

Oh shit, this was his sister.

Then, he turned around.

The expression on his face, the sculptured arch of his eyebrows; his twinkling hazel eyes; and his down turned lips. His nose was read, as were his irises. Oh, no.

"I'll call you tomorrow, Jan, alright? Uh"--he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He looked frazzled at the sight of me–"the princess is back."

Before, I would've whacked him with a pillow at the mention of that absurd nickname I couldn't escape no matter how hard I tried. But now, now it was acceptable. I liked it.

I liked when he called me that.

He put the phone back in the holder.

I restrained myself from toying with my hair. I dug my fingernails inside my palms.

"How is your sister doing?" I asked him, my tone wavering. I fumbled an apologetic smile. His face paled, and he turned away in a flash. His hand moved under his nose and he sniffled. Had he been crying?

I didn't look away. Compassion took a hold of me.

Darren didn't respond for some time. Them he said, "good."

I nodded. "Good."

I watched as he straightened himself right before my eyes. He regained composure with ease, traveling to hang up his attire for tonight on the mini clothes rack in the closet. Which was by the door. Where I stood.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Huseinni?" he asked with pungent formality in his voice.

I should have looked away when I had the chance.

I shouldn't have opened the door. Because now I damn well couldn't close it. The moment I did, we'd be stuck together. I couldn't repeat my mistakes.

The worst of it all? I couldn't look away. And I was beginning to fear i didn't want to.

I wanted to wipe his tears away. I wanted to be there for him like he'd been there for me.

I wanted...

I wanted him.

"I'm sorry," I said. By the looks of Darren Alexander, his now-soft eyes and  relaxed demeanor, I had awoken something in him.

"You're forgiven," he said.

"And I do need help," I said, keeping my head held high and dignity intact.

He folded his arms, brow raised in an interrogative manner. His lips twitched, but it was dissolved as quick as it came. Drat it. "Does it require my assistance?" he asked, tone ridged yet soft.

I couldn't make raunchy jokes anymore about it. I couldn't joke about him kissing me or tease him about dating. It didn't... it didn't feel right. His tautness in his tone reinforced it, too.

He knew. I didn't have to say or do anything.

With much regret punching me in the gut, I said, "unfortunately not."

Unfortunately?