My driver looks neat in a black suit today, a very white shirt shining from beneath. How smart, Billie boy! I smile indulgently as he opens the Lexus door for my mom, ready to take us for the house hunt tour.

I clack my heels over and grab the other door without bothering him with the honors. "Good morning, Bill. How is your family?" I ask him as I clamber into the car.

"Morning, ma'am. They're all great, thanks." He sounds vibrant, his face painted with pure joy.

Such a lovely day for everyone.

Sighing deeply, I inhale the scent of crispy after-rain air mingled with the fall foliage on the wet ground, a reminder of the life cycle. Sophie stares at me, looking ever gorgeous in navy slacks, white blazer, and black heels.

That's my mom.

"You seem happy today," she whispers, fully aware that I had a long phone call last night with Red.

And slept like a baby afterwards.

"Well. I've decided to stop being a spoilsport and enjoy life. Thanks for coming with me, Mom. Really." I could use her help with the house pick.

"It's not like I have anything better to do, but you're welcome," she remarks.

My phone buzzes as Bill drives toward N Evergreen Ave. It's Dana Rodriguez, the realtor. She's already at the first place she's found for me. Excitement runs through me at the thought. As much as I feel at home with Kenna, it's still not okay. I want my own home.

Through the mild traffic, Bill outmaneuvers the dull Portland drivers and speeds up to the Pearl district.

Moments later we arrive at a certain townhouse in the same neighborhood Derek Kingston lives in. How ironic! Just the location becomes a turn off, and even so when I realize it's a huge family home with a three-car garage and right near the main road.

"Not your scene?" Dana asks with a tiny smile. She's a beautiful biracial woman with the charms of a real saleswoman.

Very sharp. Very calculative.

"At all," I answer truthfully. "I prefer somewhere more private and . . . comfortable."

The second house turns a bit shabby for my taste, and the third too boring despite being classy and in a good location. It drags me back to the mansion I once shared with my husband and I hate the feeling.

"Okay, let's see," Dana mutters as we take a walk back to the car. "I think you don't really like the whole idea of having a house, am I wrong? It happens. Everyone has their own preference and from what I can see, you need a real change."

I smother a laugh, for it feels like I'm suddenly an open book.

"Yes. I want something different, and no more big houses," I answer. "I want a condo or just a flat. Something for me, not for anyone else."

And certainly not for a married life.

"Then the penthouse should be more of your type, I guess. And . . . Lucky you, I happen to know just the place. It's a newly renovated building downtown, but I can guarantee you the best view in the city," Dana suggests.

"Great. What are we waiting for?" I urge, and once again we all buckle up inside the Lexus.

I never fancied living in the heart of Portland but I'll be lying if I deny the beauty of this penthouse. I look at mom and her eyes bear the same glint of approval as she checks the wide kitchen, as though it's the only thing she cares about.

Well, probably it is. She's Sophie.

Although I can see the bustling city through the wide floor-to-ceiling window, I still can't gather any sound coming from the outside. Soundproof, very modern and slick that even the light system is motion sensitive depending on personal settings.

"Oh, I think like this," I breathe, taking the stairs toward the second floor where the master and extra bedroom are. "Three bedrooms, you say?"

"Yeah, one downstairs. You get the bonus of a study room, big enough to be anything you want it to be," she replies, walking right beside me, mom following us unhurriedly. "Also, the walk-in closet and a decent bathroom that suits your bedroom taste perfectly. I took your priorities as mine while screening your options, Mia."

"I'll be the judge of that," I reply casually and we take a long moment touring every single room available.

The house is terrific. Spacious enough, still in a great condition as everything has just been remodeled into newness, clean white walls and floors combined with bold black details, the toilets and cabinets all shiny and neat, and large windows with high ventilation even without an AC on.

"I can see you live here, honey," Mom says when we step into the narrow terrace providing the metropolitan amenities.

I lean over the glass railing while staring at the azure sky commingled with Portland skyscrapers. Yeah, it feels right being up here, watching the world go by from the 15th floor.

I pull in a deep breath, the sun shining gently on my skin. "I like it, too. I just can't believe I've reached this point—buying a house to live on my own."

I close my eyes and laugh. Life can be so fucking unpredictable.

"Everything happens for a reason, Mia. Come on, let's get back in if you're sure about your decision now," Mom says suggestively, casting another glance at the living room where Dana and Bill are talking quietly. "And if you ask me, this house is a keeper because you no longer have those teetering eyes as before."

A soft chuckle escapes me. "You're right. I like the place and I don't have time to search further. I'll take it."

With Sophie's unlimited persuasion we manage to win a proper bargain. I've lost count of how many Spanish whispers she's brewed under her breath when Dana gave us the original price. It's hell expensive but from the little market research I've done, I believe it's not a squander.

So I finally get to buy another house.

When I reach the office, I dive straight into work at the studio, taking a break from the never-ending paperwork. The production is going splendid so the only gruesome step left is preparing for the fashion show in three weeks. I want it to be the most successful one I've ever pulled in my entire career.

The memory of my previous collection still bruises my heart. I remember working so hard for it, just as we're doing now, only to end up losing everything just an hour before the launch. God, it still hurts. I hope this one goes well. It has to. My company's survival depends on this.

"Is that Anne's assistant?" I ask Leslie when I see a young woman carrying a large box with a bleak face across the corridor.

"Yeah. I heard the HR Manager told her to take a vacation until they find a post for her." Leslie hands me a box of bobby pins as I do the floral embroidery on the corset I'm working on.

"I don't trust her. It's best she goes away," I say with all honesty. "But send me her resume so I can recommend her somewhere else. Just not MK."

I don't want any connection with Anne, whether that lady used to be her accomplice or not.

"Okay, I will," Leslie replies happily. "Oh, that looks pretty already. No, it's sexy as hell! It comes with a kimono, right?" She's talking about the

"An exclusive package. No details for now—probably it'll be the closing piece. I have a few plans for it." I wink and smile. Leslie bounces excitedly. "Is my mom still chatting with Ines about San Pedro?" I ask, for it's been a while since they snuck into the kitchen for lunch.

Leslie chuckles. "I didn't know they both grew up in Spain. I guess they have a lot to talk about."

I just smile. I'm happy that she's found something interesting other than watching the disturbing designs of new generation's lingerie ideas. She thinks we're wearing less and less as years go by, even though she's proud of me.

Around three I ask Bill to take her home, since I have a personal detour to make. They both give me a condescending look as if I'm a little incorrigible teenager resembling a ticking bomb, as Red calls me now.

"Worry not, guys, I'm just going to work late. No need to overreact," I say.

"Then I'll take Mrs. Sophie home and fetch you later. Is that okay?" Bill offers.

"Nope. Take her home and you're free for the day. I'll grab a taxi later," I reply curtly and I need no discussion.

"Okay." Although very reluctantly, Mom agrees and off she leaves with Bill.

The minute they disappear, I haul a taxi that drops me several blocks away from MK. There's a small restaurant in which I waste a few minutes with a large milkshake, checking if there's anyone keeping tabs on my movements. I really feel like someone's out there.

It's probably paranoia but I know when I'm being watched.

"Excuse me," I call the waitress, a sassy bombshell looking like a cheerleader in pigtails and pompom.

"Yes?" She flashes a bright smile.

"I need to use the restroom. Can you show me, please?"

"Of course. This way," she utters.

Between the restroom area and the kitchen I manage to find the back exit leading to the array between old buildings. I turn left and sprout onto the main road. Mingled with vehicles and people, I quickly give Luca a call and his crooked station wagon pulls over about five minutes later.

"Wow, little ma'am. You surprise me each time we meet," he enthuses as I take my head scarf off, sitting on the front passenger seat. "Walking all the way incognito now, aren't we? I nearly didn't recognize you."

"Just shut up and drive, Luca." I sigh.

He rumbles a laugh. "Nice going, by the way. You really know how to ghost; I nearly lost you, dammit."

I frown. "Wait! It was you?"

"Yeah? We were supposed to meet, remember? Been waiting for hours and boom you were fleeing! For God's sake, what exactly do you do in that office of yours?" he complains while igniting his droning car.

"Oh wow!" I huff a laugh. "I mean, did I ask you to wait? I told you I'd call when I'm done, didn't I?"

"Yeah. But the orders I got were different," he grumbles, talking about Red and his outlandish concerns I believe.

I smile and ask, "So are you and Red friends or coworkers? Because I gather you're always running his errands. Which means, looking after me."

His thin lips stretch instantly into a smile that soon summons his voice into a loud laughter. "Let's say he's the CEO and I'm the general manager. That's pretty much understandable, right?"

I crinkle my nose at him. "Yeah. Right. Very informative."

He laughs again and I roll my eyes. One question leads to another, even though Luca is a definition of a corn artist whose sole expertise is hiding while showing. You ask about horses, he tells you pretty much about unicorns.

And in the end he simply asks me, "Do you want to try a killer burger? Trust me, you won't find anything like it from the posh restaurants you and your peers go to."

Now I scoff, frowning. "A burger? Where did that come from?"

"Your tummy, little ma'am. It just growled," he answers coolly, sliding through the suburbs as if he's searching for a specific neighborhood.

"No, it didn't!" I argue.

Did it? Because I think I'm hungry again.

"If you say so." He shrugs his shoulders.

From the suburbs we slowly enter a seemingly old industrial area, only the trace of the sweaty past remaining from the brick warehouses, the street art on the walls, and the 19th Century pavements. It's a bit nostalgic, sending me straight to New Orleans.

Home sweet home.

I hold my gaze outside as the car moves. Such a warm fuzzy feeling.

I see a small food stall selling baguettes, then a couple of old homies on the plastic chairs, and a dog right next to some young ladies on the staircase. I smile indulgently, recalling the best French coconut toasts my cousins and I would do anything to have daily.

Even if it meant stealing from the swear jar. And Sophie would flap.

"Everything okay?" Luca quizzes.

"Yeah. Is this where you live?"

"Yeah, almost there."

Luca's place is apparently a large two-story warehouse hidden behind the busy mechanical shop. No soul can pass through the entrance without the heavy duty men's approval. At first glance they look like ordinary workers, but the closer we get, their defense grows. It's like you mess with one guy and it becomes everyone's business.

"I'm with her, big boys, chill." In that charming accent of his, Luca soothes their inquisitive glares.

"And I'm certainly not here to get my car fixed," I blurt out, eyes on the brawny nigga holding a wrench.

To my surprise, a blast of laughter follows.

"Classy, Luca. Very classy," a shirtless Caucasian says, obviously insinuating something about my presence.

"Ain't no your league, man. Get back to work," Luca shoos them off with a toothy smile.

We walk through the dimly lit corridor, special thanks to the old Pepsi vending machine, probably just a fridge now.

A few steps later we're inside a what seems to be his boyish pad, a pool table and crude treadmill being the first thing I see when we stride in.

And of course, the man of the hour whose eyes regard mine instantly. He's on the phone, leaning over the rough wooden table on which a big computer seems to have had his attention.

I halt and smile, for he really looks like a hot CEO in office casual. Man! Just a pair of jeans and body-fit turtleneck, sleeves rolled up, but the effect is magnificent to say the least.

"I know a person who can decrypt it in a blink. I'll get back to you later," Red tells whoever's on the phone.

As he hangs up my legs push me toward him. He follows me and we collide like a steel and magnet, taking no second thought to display our intimacy. My arms around his neck, he automatically pins my waist and I demand my French kiss as though I'm lawfully entitled to it.

"Okay, seriously, guys? I wasn't ready for this!" Luca rumbles from behind us.

I pull back and giggle. But my attention remains with Red as I whisper, "Hi."

"Hi. You okay?" he replies, scanning my face carefully. I nod. "Good." He pecks my lips swiftly, a small smile on his lips.

Luca sighs heavily. "So, just a teeny tiny heads-up, should I expect to witness this more often?"

I choke a laugh. He knows about us!

Red glances at him and answers, "You probably should."

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 A/N: Long chapters it is. Sorry, can't help it. 😂