"She doesn't look pregnant, does she?" I heard myself ask, and this time, it was Frank's turn to look at me like I just sprouted a second head – rather, third. I didn't have to explain what I was thinking since he knew me too well, and he just sighed like I was too difficult to deal with. "What? I might have impregnated some random woman and she's here to claim her rights..."
Frank rolled his eyes and sighed once again, this time with the shake of his head. "No, she doesn't look pregnant, dumbass."
I let out a sigh of relief, congratulating myself for not stupidly leaving some woman longing for me and for a father to her child. I admit, I engage in some casual relationships when I'm out of the camp, but I always made sure that my affairs were never too serious to get hitched, and that the women I dated were not only the less clingy ones but also not the slutty ones. I valued my manhood and would never bow down to some random sex just to get satisfied. I'd rather jack off than get myself infected or something.
Frank and I started walking to the area of the camp where the building had offices and rooms for media, museum, parties, canteens, meetings, gym, sports area, and visitors. I deposited my rifle at the backdoor guard's office and waited for Frank to secure his dumbbells before we headed to the main lobby and through the visitors' area. I scanned the place for familiar faces of soldiers who are reunited with their families for a short while, eating at the tables with their kids and relatives, playing games and loudly laughing at some stories they were told.
The area was vast - it occupied the entire floor - and was extended towards the side of the camp where recreational activities could be accommodated. Rows and rows of wide tables and long benches were occupied as families converged in mirthful conversations. I slightly felt homesick and a little apprehensive of what was going to happen next after Frank led me to the person he said was my visitor. I mentally noted to drop by my father's house and pay him a visit the following week when my leave is scheduled. It has been a year since I last visited him, and the last time we talked was through a video call on my thirtieth birthday several months ago.
We talked about how his car factory business has expanded and now has a branch in Asia, and how my older brother was complaining about not having me as his assistant in being the new CEO after my father suddenly decided to retire.
He also mentioned that my sister was carrying her second child, and that my ten-year-old niece was starting to miss my cooking. He also blabbered about his best friend, the billionaire who owns major hotel chains in the country and shared how they both missed the times when they were still in their late twenties and my father was still working as an elite bodyguard. Not that he actually stopped working as one. Yes, he did establish a business of his own with the help of his best friend, but he never quit being the latter's bodyguard. They were always inseparable and their wives had even joked about them being together more than they take the women out for dinner dates. Sadly, his best friend's wife had died while giving birth to their youngest child, and my mother felt devastated for losing a good friend then.
Our families stayed closely knit, but for some reason I was the only one who never really paid that much attention to the closeness. I rarely joined gatherings and barely knew all other members of the Yates clan and only met Viktor, the oldest son who was around my age, since we attended the same university.
I found Viktor as a great buddy, but we never really talked about anything more than guy stuff when we hung out. Maybe we had an unspoken understanding that we had to somehow leave behind the thought of being the expected heirs to the businesses of our families and just live like normal teenagers. And maybe I was also too occupied with my personal affairs when I was younger that I missed out on major things happening around me.
I felt a sharp poke on my side as Frank tried to get me out of my reverie, and directed my mind back to the present. I sent him a slightly irritated look, as my bad mood started flooding in again.
"Be prepared to see an angel, Jordan," he hushed dramatically. I almost rolled my eyes impatiently as I tried to look around for some angelic-faced woman as he described it. My eyes were straining as I searched until they fell on the side of the building which led to the open grounds. I didn't know if Frank and I were looking at the same person, but my eyes instantly caught sight of a woman standing alone by the side of the park where soldiers and their children were happily playing around. Her back was turned, and she seemed to be looking solemnly at the happy family closest to where she was.
She is tall - maybe around five-foot-eight or nine - and I could tell she has a slim figure. Her back was straight and her head held high like a proud heiress looking over the extent of her property. She was wearing a taupe-colored light coat and with her back turned, I couldn't see what she was wearing underneath it. For some reason, it excited me a bit to check out the rest of her outfit.
Her dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, not one strand astray on her face, while the tail was cascading down her nape, blowing against the wind, making its color fade into a lighter shade of brown. If I had a camera with me, I would have snapped a picture of her as she looked like a model for a men's magazine. I'm not sure what I'll do with the picture afterwards, but I'd likely keep it away from anyone's prying eyes. Her nape looked so smooth and her neck so slender that I found myself silently wondering if she ever sprayed some perfume on it and how it would smell if I brushed my nose against her skin. Even though Frank and I were as far as twenty meters away from her, I could imagine that she would smell as sweet as she looked. I felt something stirring from somewhere in my nether region. Calm down, man!
"I wouldn't mind claiming her child as my own if she had come here pregnant, buddy," I heard Frank say, evidently looking at the same person I was checking out. I wanted to know if the visitor he was talking about was that same woman, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. I just silently stared at the beautiful backside of the goddess meters away.
I swear the heat of my stares could have burned the woman's back as she suddenly fanned herself with her hands and removed her coat - much to my anticipation - exposing a very milky white hide which was barely covered with a tank top and cargo shorts, paired with army boots. I wondered if she was here to be part of the boot camp? She looked like Lara Croft minus the braid.
She turned around - in slow motion to my eyes - blowing her chest with her own breath as she continued fanning herself with her hands. A pink and moist tongue licked her lower lip seductively - my heart skipped a beat - and I felt my crotch tighten at the sight. Beside me, I heard Frank let out a curse.
"She's coming!" Frank hissed, instinctively adjusting his vest to look more buff, and I followed his suit like we were high school boys trying to impress the campus babe.
I finally had a confirmation that the lady I was ogling was the same person who Frank was referring to as my visitor. I was already racking my brain for the time when I could have met the beauty who was purposefully walking towards us - but I really couldn't remember her. She looked vaguely familiar, but with her sunglasses blocking her eyes, I couldn't make out much of her face. I privately agreed with Frank that she looked like an angel who fell from the heavens…
"Hi," she smiled as she stopped at about an arm's length.
By the tilt of her head and even with her eyes concealed, she was obviously looking at Frank and not me. I felt irritated for some reason but kept my face straight and void of any emotions. We wouldn't want to be too obvious, would we?
She turned to me and looked up. She looked like she wasn't pleased with the idea of me being six to seven inches taller than her, as she visibly tried to adjust her height and straightened her back all the more. "You must be Jordan Gallagher?" She queried, her well-defined eyebrows arched, awaiting any type of reaction from me. I noticed that she didn't extend her hand for a handshake, but simply looked at me behind her sunglasses.
I found myself just staring at her. All of my experiences with women, my sweet talking talented self refused to take over, and I suddenly felt tongue-tied. The need to drink some cold beverage became so strong that I felt my throat go dry. She eyed me from head to toe, seemingly assessing why I was dressed in crumpled fatigues and questioning my life choices like keeping a three-week old beard. I inwardly moaned for not shaving before Frank and I went out to meet her. I notice her lips twisting as if trying to find the most polite words to say to me.
"I'm Vee," she said, finally extending her hand in a manner that said don't dare ignore my hand or I'll cut your balls. "Venera Rustik Yates."
Her last name quickly registered, and her familiar face explained it. She had features like Viktor's, and her proud stance like her father. I had never gotten the chance to meet her at parties, and I think I could recall Viktor saying that he had a spoiled little sister who started a modeling career at the tender age of six who traveled around the world in her private plane for her projects. She was the daughter whom the Yates matriarch had died giving birth to. The Yates senior had sworn to let go of all his wealth just for the doctors to save his daughter's life, after his wife failed to survive. No wonder, the only princess of the Yates grew up with such glory in her entire being.
I realized I had zoned out for some time, as I felt another poke from Frank, who was already looking at me with disdainful eyes, reminding me that I haven't accepted the heiress' offered hand. I don't usually feel awkward with handshakes as I always get one with my line of work, but this time as I stared at the woman before me, I felt like turning around to find a faucet and quickly rinse my hand to get rid of dirt. But no, I didn't have time to do just that, unfortunately, and the raised eyebrow of the Yates princess looked like I needed to salute instead.
And I realized, I still had not extended my damn hand.
Finally giving up, and with her eyebrows arched dangerously higher than earlier, she withdrew her hand and slowly - very slowly - took off her sunglasses. I subconsciously held my breath. What I saw almost made my entire being shake with anticipation. I felt my breathing escalate and my ribs hurt with the intensity of my heartbeat as I received the most vicious yet enticing glare I had ever been thrown my entire life. Her bright green eyes were captivating. They were so bright that they seemed to emanate with their own luminescence and the tiny flecks of black lines outlined her irises like a powerful aura. Her lashes were very dark and long that they looked naturally curled to perfection. Her nose was upturned, seated in the middle of her face like a proud royalty ready to breathe fire at anyone who dares object to her wishes. As my eyes traveled downward, I glimpsed at her lips which were slightly pouting, evidently displeased that I didn't care to shake her hand in greeting. I would like to apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior, but I doubt if the princess would even accept it.
"I know you're wondering how I figured out your hiding place," she said, going straight to business. She folded her arms across her chest, and with my eyes following her every move, her lovely bosom didn't escape me. I felt my throat go dry for some reason.
I heard Frank clear his throat and offered to usher us to a private room where we could talk. As we passed other tables, I noticed men and women alike cast an admiring look at my visitor. I even saw one of the guards grin at Frank suggestively, and I felt a little irked by it. Ignoring my other self's urge to break the guard's neck, I followed where Frank had led the Yates princess.
Once we were seated in the private room, the lovely lady gratefully took the bottled water on the table offered by Frank and savored the drink. I found myself swallowing hard as I watched her slender throat glide up and down as she drank. She tossed the now empty bottle into the garbage can and then in one swift movement, turned to face me again, all ready for business.
"I am here," she growled like a lioness, " to ask for your hand in marriage."