Page 10 of Valentine's Miracle

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.

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