The Girlfriend [discontinued]

III. "Winnie soup."

III. "Winnie soup." 

I think I've been magically transported into a parallel universe in which the world hates me and I'm trapped in a bad action movie. At least, that's the only passable explanation I can come up with. 

The man in the middle of the three, presumably the leader of the group, takes a step toward me. My body snaps back into action and I stumble away from them, clutching my box if pizza to my chest like it's my lifeline. Who knows, pizza may just make a great weapon yet. Unfortunately, this brings me closer to the vehicle which I'm pretty sure will be the last one I ever see. This encounter isn't exactly screaming 'we're not going to kidnap or kill you'. 

The guy raises a questioning eyebrow and stretches his arms toward me like I'm a startled animal. Startled, yes. Animal? Please. 

"We're not going to hurt you," he says slowly, like I'm thick and he wants to make sure I get the message. Yeah, because that isn't the first thing every creeper in the history of creepers says to their victim before they kidnap them and make them into soup, Hansel and Gretel style. 

"Are you kidding?" I blurt out before my brain-to-mouth filter has a chance to kick into action. "You couldn't be a little more original?" I actually don't blame them for wanting to kidnap me. I have the vague urge to gag myself just to prevent more stupidity from spilling out of my mouth. 

One of the other men looks like he's choking. It takes me a moment to realise that he's actually just trying to suppress his laughter. I'm flattered, really. I didn't know I was so amusing. 

Leader Guy is half gaping like a fish out if water and I think he's at a loss for words, but I can't really be sure. He could just be at a loss for air, like I thought the other man was. 

A door slams shut behind me and I spin around to see a woman in a tailored white suit and matching heels step out from the backseat of the SUV. Her fiery red hair is pulled tightly back in a large bun on the top of her head and a modern pair of glasses are perched on her nose. She's wearing an earpiece similar to that of the men who were following me, which she is currently firing orders into like there's no tomorrow. 

Briefly pausing for breath, she takes my hand into hers in a firm grip, forcing the pizza box into the other, shaking it quickly before I have a chance to process what's happening. She's not even looking at me as she does; her eyes are busy darting around the whole area. 

She presses a button on her earpiece then looks at me, giving me a tight smile. "I'm Tracy. Personal assistant to Prime Minister Montgomery. I've been sent to collect you." 

Well this is news to me. I raise my eyebrows and widen my eyes. "Um, what? Collect me?" I echo, not quite comprehending. Why is the Prime Minister's PA even talking to me? 

She sighs and gives me an exasperated look. "There are matters to discuss, and as those god-awful paparazzi aren't leaving your apartment anytime soon, we were forced to follow you until we got you alone," she explains. 

Well at least that kind of explains it. I can't really focus on anything right now except for the fact that I'm not going to be murdered by these people  

"I- Wha- Matters to discuss?" I question, stumbling over my words. 

Tracy sighs and gives me a tired look, like it's obvious. "Your relationship with Mr. Montgomery." 

For a moment I think she means the Prime Minister and start to protest in confusion, but before I totally embarrass myself the logical part of my brain kicks in and I realise that she's meaning the slightly younger and more attractive Mr. Montgomery -- Noah, his son.