Married to a powerful businessman feared all-over Portland, Mia Kingston has a reputation to uphold. As the CEO of MK, her own lingerie brand, everyone believes she has everything, including the perfect marriage most women envy.
She's beautiful, s...
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Chilly wind flips the soft, white binders of the great window in my bedroom. I shudder, my own arms proving a great failure in keeping me warm. Tentatively, throwing the sketching book lying in my tummy aside, I rise on my elbows and sit up. My body feels torpid.
How long have I been sleeping? It's still afternoon . . . Or evening? I can't clearly tell as it's a bit cloudy outside. It's raining once again—just lightly this time. My mouth stretches into a long yawn as I drop my bare feet down the fluffy rug, ready to face the music.
My gaze settles on the T-shirt I'm wearing, barely covering my thighs, and somehow the guilt lashes on me. Why did I raise my voice at Red?He didn't do anything wrong, did he? God, what have I done? I sigh remorsefully at the realization of my mistake.
I take my sketching book from the bed and peek a quick glance at the few designs I made before I fell asleep. Holy cow! Did I just do this? A smile touches the corner of my lips as I behold the drawings of sexy lingerie that I'd want to see coming into life as soon as possible.
MK, my fashion brand, deals with swimsuits and lingerie only. I don't know what got me inspired and chose this line of clothing, but there's nothing that makes me feel accomplished than the sight of a piece of beautiful garment covering a feminine body and the confidence that lady exudes as the outcome.
Laying the book back on the bed, I grab my phone and snap quick pictures of the two pages. Anne! I need to send these to Anne and see what she has to say; for she's my primary reviewer whenever I come up with something new. Perhaps we may have something to start with so as I get out of this mess, I try being positive.
"There," I mutter after touching the send button, butterflies fluttering their wings in my stomach.
Afterwards I try calling Anne and yet it's the same voice mail I bump into. What's wrong with her? And where has she gone? She's been very mysterious lately with her never-ending trips out of Oregon. Maybe she's got a boyfriend at last. I smile to myself.
"Hey, Anne, it's Mia. I've been trying to reach you since yesterday but I guess you're busy or something. I hope all is well. Call me as soon as you get the message. Kisses." I send the voicemail and sit on the bed.
Now what? It's only two-thirty and I'm so tired. I lie back on the soft, plush mattress, facing the ceiling, my feet stilled on the wooden floor. Will things get better? My mind wanders off. I need to fix my life. I have to salvage all I can manage to—that way I can live again.
After five minutes of utter idleness, I slowly get up and make an exit out of the room. The corridor is silent, cold even, and I wonder where Red is at the moment. Downstairs? I ponder, but I'm quite tempted to check his room. Maybe he also decided to take a rest as he really needed it.
"Well, why not?" I head for the door to his bedroom, and I can't stop thinking of last night.
A lot has happened in a short Moment, huh? If my psychotic husband smells even a half of what his darling little butterfly has been up to I'll be six feet under in no time. This is the first, and must be the last involvement I'll have with Red.
