In which Lauren questions who she has become. And Thomas is infuriatingly indifferent to her moral dilemma.
If Lauren had been in any shape to think about the following morning during her post-coital bliss, it would have ruined it for her. So, it was fortunate for the happy sex buzz that she fell asleep before anticipating having to face her terrifying husband in the light of day.
When the sun slanted across her face the next morning, Lauren stretched sleepily, halting the movement in a hurry when she felt the pull and the soreness in her lower half. Even her thighs hurt, and her pelvis was on fire. Why was she so-Oh, my god!Her eyes flew open.I had sex with Thomas!she thought.I had sex and I enjoyed it! What kind of a sleazy human being has an orgasm with the organized crime monster who made her marry him?Burying her face in her hands, the girl wished she could disappear. Reappear somewhere else. Anywhere else. Far away, though. Far enough away that the terrible knowing gaze of Thomas Williams couldn't find her. Knowing this was sadly unrealistic, she finally took a deep breath, holding it for a moment. The breath expelled from her in a rush when she spotted a note leaning against the lamp on her bedside table in Thomas's distinctive handwriting.
"Lovely.
I headed into the office for an early meeting. I will require you at a dinner meeting before ourRussian guests fly out. Romanoff, in particular, was keen to say goodbye. You were very charming last night.
And at dinner as well.
T."
Her face flaming at his suggestive praise, Lauren angrily kicked the rest of the covers off the bed. Great. Wasn'tshea "full-service" wife? Then, just to make the mortification of her morning complete, she was greeted with the red smears of her virginity staining Thomas's expensive sheets.
"Mom would besoproud," she mumbled before beginning to cry. She missed her mother so much. Aurelia was always the parent Frank never was- caring and kind. Even as a snotty teenager, Lauren always knew her mother loved her, always knew her advice about her adolescent drama was sound. And now she was gone and Lauren had no one to talk to. No one she could trust, anyway. Angrily gathering up the sheets, she threw them into the dirty clothes hamper, finding the linen closet and re-making the bed with fresh sheets. "Let's not give Thomas any more ammunition to use against me," she hissed bitterly. "The fact that he just deflowered like, the last virgin in England over the age of 16? That should make me just about as pathetic as humanly possible."
The girl angrily practiced her cello and violin, and finally with her beloved bass guitar turned up as high as she dared, enjoying the windows actually rattling in the fourth-floor conservatory that her confusing spouse had set up for her. It was a surprisingly thoughtful move- a private space to practice and all her many instruments laid out respectfully. It was something only a musician - or someone who understood the power of music - would even think to do. Hardening her heart, Lauren decided to step out and go for a run. It was a good time to get to know her new neighborhood, where to get coffee in the morning, maybe a nice park... To her fury, Broken Nose Guy stepped out of a sedan as she did some quick stretches in front of Thomas's beautiful house.
"Mrs. Williams," he said calmly. "Good morning."
"Don't call me that!" Lauren snapped at him instinctively before recoiling. She was a nice girl, a kind person, and she was being rude to another "employee" who was just doing his job.
Like her.
Forcing herself not to cry, she nodded stiffly. "I'm... going for a run. I'll stay on the street where you can follow me."
Broken Nose Guy was carefully expressionless. "Very well. We'll be just behind you, should you need assistance."
Lauren frowned. "There's more than one of you? What exactly do you think I'll do?"
This time, the well-dressed thug's eyes met hers with just a hint of a smirk. "That is the problem, Mrs. Williams- ah, Miss Lauren. We have no idea."
She snorted inelegantly. "I'm the wild card. In a 'corporate structure' such as this..." she made the mocking quotation gesture with her fingers, "I'm the thing you can't predict." Without waiting for his answer, Lauren angrily turned up the music on her phone and began pounding the pavement with her running shoes as if the cement had insulted her personally. She ran and ran, trying to outpace her thoughts, her fear and embarrassment, and the humiliation of having been even more vulnerable in front of this terrifying, beautiful man. Finally succumbing to the raw ache between her legs, Lauren sullenly slowed down outside a small coffee house. It looked very pleasant and low-key, and she could see trays of delightfully massive baked goods behind the glass counter. Exactly her sort of place.
It was darker and cool inside the little shop and Lauren breathed in the lovely scent of caffeine and the freshly baked muffins. Closing her eyes and settling her jangled nerves, she looked at the chalk-drawn menu before turning around and walking to the black BMW that followed her all morning. Tapping on the heavily-shaded window, she waited for a moment before it drew down slowly. The carefully expressionless face of Broken Nose Guy gazed out at her.
"Yes, Miss Lauren?"
She couldn't see the man in the passenger seat, shrouded in the shadowed side of the car, and she chose to ignore him. One professional shooter at a time. "I want you to come... um... have coffee with me." The polite expression of incredulity on his battered face was similar to the one he would have offered if his boss's wife has suggested he juggle a passel of cats, but he nodded slowly. With a meaningful glare at the other man in the car, Broken Nose Guy exited the BMW and looked at the determined girl. Watching him stare down at her with a vague expression of discomfort, Lauren finally ventured, "So, what do you drink?"
Of course, she was not surprised when he said firmly, "Coffee. Black. No cream or sugar. Just... coffee."
Finally making the bulky man sit down at the ridiculously little cafe table outside on the deck, the girl watched with some amusement as the waitress brought him a gigantic muffin. Her unwilling bodyguard poked at it carefully with a fork for a moment as she drank her chai tea latte. "It won't explode, you know," she finally offered, "it's just a crumpet."
The man, of course, was not mollified by her assurance. Sighing, Lauren took a bite of her own, chewing ostentatiously. She swallowed down the first smile of the morning watching this terrifying creature nibble a corner of the sweet as if it might blow up in his face.
Finally gathering up her courage, she finally asked, "Am I the first... uh... I dunno, 'responsibility' that Mr. Williams saddled you with?"
Not a flicker of expression crossed the man's face. "I am not at liberty to comment, Mrs. W- Miss Lauren."
Rolling her eyes, the girl sighed. "Of course." Taking a sip of her chai latte, she pondered what she could ask this man. "So, are you stuck with me?"
Her Corporation shadow looked at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon?"
Gesturing uselessly with her long, graceful hands, Lauren struggled for the right questions. "Instead of doing exotic, uh, Corporation-based things, are you going to be stuck following me around so I don't do anything stupid?"
He was turning his coffee cup- black, no cream or sugar- around in his blocky hands. "You are a valued asset of The Corporation, Miss Lauren. You are also an innocent. You may not be aware of the... uh... complications of corporate life. My assignment is to be certain of your safety."
