Tell Me Your Fears

Chapter 2: Robyn

The young guard cleared his throat, flustered at the sight of me closing the bathroom door just in time before he could hear his boss thrashing about in the room.

"Uh, g-good evening, Madam Celia," he stammers, seeming nervous for his second day.

I feign a laugh. "Please drop the title, I insist. It makes me sound like an old lady." The young man blushed, letting out a nervous chuckle. Either I'd be flattered that I have such an effect on him, or relieved that his nervousness is working to my advantage. So far, I'm leaning on the latter.

"Do you know where my boss went? The other guards said he came by here."

I bat my eyelash seductively, looking back to the door of the bathroom right before wiping my thumb on the corner of my lips for any stray lipstick. "He'll be ready in a minute."

The young guard blushes and looks away, believing my insinuation. It wasn't far fetched for men like Peralta to fool around in public places at uncanny times.

I begin to stride away the same time the young man took the place I vacated to stand guard in case anyone planned to use the occupied room. Little did he know what he was actually doing. Judging from the growing tension in the dining hall, it wouldn't take long before they really start looking for him. Which means I have to get out of here fast. I'm lucky enough as it is that Anka's not the guard I met with. My bluff would have been caught by the throat if he was.

I was hastily rushing through my strides as I made the last turn of the hallway that I walk into a hard wall.

Before I could hit the ground, a hand circled around my waist to stop my fall.

The wall cussed as a splash of his champagne spilled into his Armani suit that fitted him perfectly enough to be labelled as their spring model.

With him being so close, the only thing I can breathe in his fragrance. His mouth is inches from mine, his lips slightly parting—

Goddamn it. Stop ogling his lips.

"s**t, I'm so sorry."

If he was annoyed, he doesn't show it. "Fault is all mine."

He regarded me with such deep intensity that I wasn't sure if he was looking into my soul, or trying to figure me out. Nevertheless, he doesn't offer a friendly smile nor a hostile glare. And it's unnerving. "Why are you in such a rush?"

I look back to the adjacent hallway I emerged from and breathe a silent sigh of relief that no one was hot on my tail. Not yet.

I threw my hair back and gave him a flirty grin, sizing him from head to toe. "Who said I was in a rush?"

He backs away from me just a step enough to regard me the same way I did him. The neutral expression still intact. He doesn't look much older than me, definitely younger than half of the people present. "Your brazen sprint that blinded you to see that we both have the hallway to ourselves."

I inwardly cringe. I wouldn't have ran into him if I had the presence of mind.

"If I'm not mistaken," his gaze flits behind me before throwing an accusing look my way, "you look like you're running away from someone."

I don't give up my act and trace an index finger down the length of his ironed tie. "Maybe I purposely planned to bump into you. With such a handsome face and all."

He snorts, not the least fazed by my act. "I don't know if I should be offended that your half-wit brain thinks that I'd fall for that."

Half-wit?

I straighten my back, giving up the seductress act. "I don't know if I should be offended by you calling me a half-wit."

"Bet your lovers don't call you that often, huh? What shocking news must it be to you. Tell me, do you open your legs just for the hell of it or do you actually go on a date first before the first kiss? Or is promiscuity a foreign concept to that lusting head of yours?"

For a moment, I'm left gaping. He's openly insulting me as if we were on the borderline of friend and foe.

Gulping down my urge to be brazen, I put up a smile. I was getting nowhere with him. "Alright, then. If you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be." I don't try to mask my tone knowing damn well he's already unraveled my façade of the dumb blonde act.

Stomping away, I managed a step before he juts his arm out, stopping me. "You didn't answer my question."

I glare at him. "I'm not inclined to do s**t," I spat. Harshly.

His eyes widen just a fraction at my small outburst before his mouth curls up in . . . amusement? I don't have time to dwell on it though, because he fires back, "You will if you don't want me to yell for Peralta's men."

My body instantly froze. He can't possibly know I was running from Peralta. Maybe he was merely making an assumption and thinks he could foolishly entrap me.

His breath was hot against my cheek as he inched closer, his hand gripping my arm to prevent me from escaping. "You're the thief they're looking for aren't you?"

"Now I'm offended for you insinuating I'm anything but honorable."

"It's not insinuating if I'm blatantly putting it out there, is it? Pretty girl, noticeably absent from the dinning room where all the other guest have to be fuckin' pat down like a bunch of suspected terrorist. Hell, even the staff were there. Everyone but you."

Either this man has an attentive eye or he had already eyed me from the get-go way before the pat down happened.

It's not exactly as if my red dress would go unnoticed. s**t, I knew I should have donned on something more less conspicuous.

I grind my teeth. "I'm not who you assume I am. Now let me go, or I'll scream." I try to yank my arm away but he doesn't budge.

"I don't think you want to. I'm betting they're close." His mouth was too close to my ear. Way too close that a shiver cascades down my spine. "And I wonder just what punishment Peralta has planned for you. He's not exactly the forgiving type." I can feel his taunting smirk without even looking at him. His entire body language reverberates through mine, tension so thick that I'm left to wonder how it escalated quickly.

His hand tightens around my arm and I expel a soft breath. The urge to stomp down on his foot was outweighed by the feeling of warmth his body provides by our close proximity. I narrow my eyes at the empty hallway. The little s**t was turning the tables.

I hear the faint sounds of soles clicking against the the tiled floor behind me.

The stranger's voice low, reverberating through my stomach when he whispers, "You're in deep s**t, little red."

I don't know if it was an indication that I've been on my own for way too long but my belly roared with heat. Goddamn, his voice was hot. Way too hot.

Coming out from my trance, my eyes widen at the realization the footsteps seems all too familiar. "f**k," I mutter.

My eyes roam across the hallway and zeroes on the small janitor's closet. I twist around and point a finger at him. "Say one word, you're fuckin' dead." I enunciate the last word before I step inside the closet just in time to see through the small gap of the door two of Peralta's men coming face to face with the stranger.

To his credit, the stranger composed himself with finesse as if our encounter never happened. I don't know if that was a good thing or not. "Hey, boys. You here to do another pat down? Pretty sure you missed a spot between my legs." Unlike our run in, malice and resentment laced his tone.

The tall guard bowed his head ever so slightly. "We deeply apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Pavlov."

"You better be. If your boss wasn't too much of a prissy little b***h I'd rob him of his balls for laying a hand on me. Or you'd rather I chop off yours?" I lift a hand to cup my mouth at his unabashed, impenitent words.

Who exactly is this Mr. Pavlov? Must be someone with high authority by the way he holds his tongue above confidence that you can't help but feel like respect is already a requisite—however unforgiving his words are.

The tall guard still doesn't meet Pavlov' eyes. "We're not here to, uh, search you again, Mr. Pavlov."

"Shame." He circles his champagne glass creating a whirl with what's left of the liquid inside. "I'm itching to have just an inkling of fun. The bride and the groom aren't exactly much to look at, if you know what I mean."

The fat guard lifts the corner of his mouth ever so slightly as if agreeing with him. Instead of voicing it out, he clears his throat. "We're looking for a woman wearing a red dress. One of the guards saw her pass through here."

"So what if I did? Why you asking?" he asked seemingly bored.

"We are not permitted to discuss our boss's private matters."

"I'm also not permitted to give something away without receiving anything worth my while back. Reciprocity, boys."

The guards contemplate. By the month long I've spent getting inside Peralta's inner circle, I know enough from the first week that he doesn't have empathy with anyone other than if it is to serve his self-interest. I have no doubt these two were afraid of losing their jobs over something so trivial.

"We're inclined to believe she may have been a thief."

"Ah. That explains the TSA." Pavlov clicks his tongue. "Sorry, kid. You gave me a great deal of discomfort at the dinning hall tonight," he says, not breaking eye contact with the guards, but I know he was talking to me.

No. No, no, no.

My stomach drops when his free hand gripped the knob of the closet before yanking me by the arm and out from the shadows.

"Is this the thief you're desperately looking for? You all suck ass at your jobs if I managed to catch her and not the hundred men p***y Peralta stationed around."

I thrash against his grip but the two bodyguards were already on me before I could flinch away.

Panic shot through me. If death was an option, I'd rather choose that than revealing my identity to these people. The best case scenario, I'd serve a couple years in federal prison. Worse case? I don't leave the mansion alive. Hell have no fury than a merciless man's struck ego and rage.

I was flanked on both sides, dragged away from Pavlov who I toss a glare at. Tried to anyway because I can't feel rage for him outing me over the prevailing fear inside my chest.

He must have seen the distress in my eyes because he called out to us before turning the hallway.

Bile clogged my throat from snapping at him and doing my worst.

Before I can scratch the itch that made me want to knee his balls at a last attempt of having the last word, he accidentally spills his champagne at the unsuspecting guard. This was enough for his grip on my right arm to loosen and I rear my elbow on his face. Hard.

This was one of the things I was grateful my friend—and probably only in the world—pestered me to do, take self-defense classes on my sixteenth birthday. My business ventures warrants safety and I took it to heart.

I jut my foot behind his left leg and he goes down, losing his balance, head hitting one of the statue podiums near the wall before lying unconscious on the floor.

The pudgy guard stares in disbelief at his fallen comrade. I use his hesitation to grab Pavlov's champagne glass and broke it on top of the guard's head before he could reach for his holster. He takes position next to his buddy with a small twist at the neck. s**t, that must've hurt.

But I can't will myself to feel pity for any of them, not when I value my life just as much as they valued theirs.

Adrenaline coursed through my body. My chest heaves as I turn my gaze back to Pavlov, my brows furrowed at his actions. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked innocently. Not a hair out of place in his well-polished look that just screamed sopistication. I can't exactly say the same about me.

"Turn me in and then help me."

He casually leans into the wall. "Did I really?"

"Do you expect a thank you?"

A shrug. "Seems fitting. Honest to God, this is the most exciting thing to happen in the last three fuckin' hours of this overstretched barnyard explosion."

"Why are you here then?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Weren't you running away?"

I snap out of it and hesitantly, begin to walk away.

"Hey," he calls out. "What happened to your voice?"

I frown. It's indication that he's been watching me the whole night enough to notice the airy voice I've been letting out to Peralta to disguise my real one. He knows I was Peralta's date.

If he plans on revealing my façade to anyone, he doesn't show any indication. "Thank you."

He tips his head. "It was pleasure meeting you." He wasn't making any move to leave the wall despite his involvement with my escape. Peralta will hear about this from the guards once they've regain consciousness. Something tells me he won't face any repercussions for it. Who exactly is this man and why is he so composed? Right now, I don't have any intention to know.

"I hope to never see you again."

He offers a genuine amused smile that made him all the more handsome than what his neutral expression already provides and I marvel at the face I'll never see again. After a short second that seemed to stretch into a minute, I fled.