Runaway Fiancée

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight (UNEDITED)

--Kindly put your playlist here--  

  "If you don't want me to be in love with you, you're going to have to stop looking so lovely. First thing tomorrow I'm having your maids sew some potato sacks together for you."
―  Kiera Cass, The Selection

Mia's POV

"Te amo Dylan. I'll be back as soon as I can." I called Dylan the moment the plane landed at Los Angeles, California. "Of course, I'll take care of myself. Yeah... I know... te extraño mi amor." (I miss you, my love).

"Don't skip your meals, okay?"

"I won't. Promise."

"Beware of Xander Valiente. Don't fall in love with the guy."

"Of course I won't."

I was in the car with Xander and still continued talking to Dylan. He was driving too fast and looked very upset. I didn't understand him. His mood easily shifted from being so gentle to an asshole.

"Sueño contigo anoche. Nos casamos. Sí... estábamos tan contentos." (I dream of you last night. We got married. Yes... we were so happy). 

"That is a nice dream." Dylan answered. "Soon, your dream will come true, mi amor."

Xander suddenly stopped the car. My phone fell off my hand and landed on the car floor.

"What happened?" I asked Xander.

He just looked at me and didn't say anything.

Hmp! What a stubborn man.

I picked my phone. Dylan was still there and we continued talking until we arrived at the gate of the house.

"This is a very big house. Is this my family's house?" It was a beautiful mansion. The architectural design was a combination of classic and modern. I instantly fell in love on it.

"No." He said firmly, then steered the car to the driveway.

"Who's house is this?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Why are we here?" I asked again.

He still didn't answer. 

"I thought we're going to my family's house."

"Your dad is in Thailand with her girlfriend. Your brother is in New Zealand. No one will take care of you there." Finally, he answered.

"So, who's house is this? Yours?"

He stared at me, then said. "Ours."

"Huh? We have a house? The two of us?"

"Yes. You lived here with me for almost a year. You don't remember?"

"No! Perdí la memoria . ¿Cómo puedo recordar ?" (I lost my memory. How can I remember?)

He exhaled heavily. "Will you stop that Colombian accent? Speak English."

"Why not? I'm a..."

"You're not. You're from New Zealand and English is your first language. Okay?" He looked irritated.

What is wrong with him? Why brought me here and offered to help me get well, when it seems like I'm upsetting him?

The car stopped in front of the house and Xander went out immediately. I followed him and went out of the car abruptly. His face went sour when he saw me already outside.