He whistled at the hotel guard to get his attention. The guard approached him, and they were whispering about something. Then, both nodded their heads in agreement. The guard looked at me, and I could hardly bother much about what they were talking about; I was comfortable with my position on the sofa. My facial expression could not be concealed, unlike those camouflage mammals. In some moments, I prefer to be transparent about what I am feeling, and there will always be a boundary if I can keep it to myself.
The guard looked away now and called another fellow guard that just got in time for his shift. My agent also waved a hand at me, gesturing that he would leave the hotel. And I moved my mouth to say, "Go silently."
I do not have all the time in the world, but I think I own it now. I acknowledge the help of my workers. I don't have the time to reward them, and I know the feeling of not being appreciated, and that is the reason I dared to swallow the wrongdoing, a woman like me growing up with the surname Owen is someone untouchable because of the lineage that had been growing in the present. Naturally? Not; how my parents handled my beloved grandparents' death raised the bar of suspicions within me. A daughter given away to the grandparents to have an unknown future is not good parenting. My so-called parent emptied their worth in me; however, since my grandparents taught me to be kind to them, I reduced my sadness; they raised me to be me now. Still, as long as I show no weakness in my work, my scheming family might as well choose another side to look at; they thought I was not daring enough to rebound at their tricks.
There are a lot of draft plans on my paper at the condominium I recently bought, and the few things I remembered writing before walking out of the room were: Hire an agent, do not trust anybody, not even the hired agent, men in the family are the worst liars including the men as my agent. And I massage my temple. I see his intentions, and there is nothing wrong with it is almost perfect if I scale it to ten since I studied his movements in fighting previously with the hoodlums. Such passion for his work made me realize if I also found what I would do passionately. If only this woman's blood did not desire man—it sounded like I had plans with my agent, in this matter—I pressed my injured knee to focus on the pain than the thoughts. 'Ouch!' I yelled at myself; inside my head, I prepared many cursed words I learned from people in the street and the mansion.
I sink my back comfortably on the couch with the pain staying, too; I watch guests I had never seen before. There were a few old couples that greeted me; those people were the ones who did not know me entirely. Who would mingle long about it if they only knew how messed up my family is? Perhaps those who do not do anything in life will stay on one topic forever, but the rest, nope, will always open a new flaw that they see in my family; gladly, the tabloids are under control. I could have more choices. I am not any ordinary person among the women and men around here.
"Milady, I am back. There is an ambulance ready for us."
My agent found a great way to make me go crazy; he satisfies me by presenting his shooting skills, but the ambulance stuff is not one of those bets. I feel discomfort and may need to sleep this way as another 'getaway' too. It is not weird, but I do not want to be like spring with a life and hopeful smiles from the people.
"Your actions are just exaggerating," I complained, and he gazed at my knee instead of my eyes.
Then, for a second, he diverted his sight not to look into my eyes but to call the first guard he had talked to before.
"Is the wheelchair ready?" He asked.
"Yes, sir, it is ready." The guard responded and ran off to get the wheelchair handled by a medic at the entrance.
A loud voice in my head spoiled the mood about being in control; seeing him busy, relying on something to the guard, I found myself staring at the shiny floor with no clear face; I am not even asking anyone urgently to make the view uncomplicated, there is just something in my heart that cause to quiver way down inside, and I impulsively depend in myself in standing alone.
But a hand rapidly pressed me backward.
"We can discuss my mistakes later, milady, but right now, you must let me do everything I can to make sure your injury would not cause you any harm or problems in your health, just to make it clear."
His manly hands stayed on my chest and arm; I glared at him back and forth: looking at the bare hand on my chest and his eyes. He takes the chill away from the painful injury. It should not seem like that—my headshot is a picture of me smiling, my real me, the cheerful woman living happily. What am I even imagining? I think about avoiding the expectations that my grandparents prayed when they were still alive.
Where did half of the goodness in me go? That I did not know. My family blocked the path, I guess. And I let them be because I 'was' young. So now, I finally step into their game. Unknowingly sighing, I stick my glance at my agent.
No man should randomly place their dominant hand on a woman's chest unless necessary. Is the situation even critical now? No! Hell no, it is not. So I slapped his wrist away with my hand, and I shook my head at the sight of the quick smirk on his face. He is trying to test my patience here. I did not think his help would suddenly cast out another side of him.