Mistress Avenue

Chapter Fourteen: Traitor in Arms

The night was dreadful for the young American, his pacing has placed a hole in the middle of his study, his mind raced with thoughts as sleep wasn't one of them. However, his efforts in getting a good night's rest was forged at the crack of dawn, the sun peaked over the ports horizon, the sky painted pink, orange, and blue as the yellow sunlight danced along the walls in every room and surface; including the smooth brown delicate skin of his lover.

Delilah tossed and turned all night, the misshaped pillows, bundled blankets, and her body laying in a odd diagonal position pieces of it. Along with one sharp echoing creak of the floorboards under his weight, easily woke her up. "Wyatt?" Her voice low and timid as she flipped on to her back to gain a better view of the large shadow standing by the doorway. "Have you not slept at all?"

The question was obvious just by one look of his clothes, not once did her tempt to change, his tie was missing, shirt out of his trousers, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and hair fallen upon his forehead to cover his dull droopy eyes. Their first night together in the home, all ruined from the drastic situation; Wyatt grew further conscious on whether to send Delilah back to the brothel or keep her in arms length. "There's no need for sleep when the Ambassador is after your head."

Delilah sighed softly, she was hoping the situation was nothing but a bad dream, but reality was practically a cruel nightmare. "Perhaps someone from America will come and clear your name." She held hope, a faint smile formed upon her face as the light made her skin glow.

Wyatt watched closely, such light in one body was enough to be mistaken as a star. "Maybe or maybe not. To not further the situation, my government would either let the British have me as an enemy to clear their own name or they will ignore my pleas. Either way, I have to solve this on my own."

"How? You against the entire line of politicians, they may hate each other but they hate America even more. Let me help, allow me to send another message to-"

"No, Delilah, we shouldn't even be talking about this." Wyatt spoke sternly while storming into the bathroom, the door slammed behind him to make a clear point that the conversation was no longer to be brought up.

Delilah fell back into the bed, a soft sigh past her lips as she tried to push the rock in her throat. "Don't cry." She told herself in a whisper.

*~*~*~*~*

Lord Jeffery Harrison was a lawyer and third cousin to their majesty, King Robert Addison the Third. His bond to the royal court was nothing more than family gatherings or when one of the majesty's children placed themselves in a bit of trouble. His second home smelt of apple cider and tobacco, every room filled with the heads of every deadly catch from Africa and South America, their dead eyes pierced Delilah soul as she walked by.

The only room was wasn't touched by such beastly habits were the guest room, Amelie has already made herself at home, her gowns filling the wardrobe and bed covered in corsets and seductive night garments. "I would be joyous with such an unexpected visit, but from the look on your face it seems far serious than that." Amelie say upon the love seat under the window, the morning sunlight hits her skin and hair ever so perfectly. If it weren't for her current occupation, one would think she was a perfect woman; beautiful, elegant, intelligent, and bold- all the things that makes her the most beautiful woman in all of east London.

Delilah sat beside her, finger fidgeting with the coin purse hanging from her wrist, eyes holding small bags from the lack of rest, and lips nearly trembling. "I believe I have found myself in a bit of trouble."

"Trouble? Money? Is it Wyatt? Is he hurting you?" The elegant side of Amelie disappears, turning into the hot tempered being that hides a blade in her garner belt.