It's scary to owe God a favor. You're in constant fear of what He might ask in return.

                               ~writingRo~

                                  Mia

I hated him: his ego, his pride, and his influence. But mostly, I hated that I couldn't say anything against his abuse. Saying anything meant the end of my career, and I had worked so hard to let a weak ass man take it away from me. So I sucked it up, smiled, and did what he said. He was punishing me for rejecting him anyway, I knew. I also knew he already had a perfect take he was just asserting his dominance, letting me know he was the boss, I knew that too. He was the best commercial director in the business, no one wanted to mess with him, and that included brands.

But god, I was tired, my mouth hurt because of smiling, my feet felt like they were about to go numb at any moment.

"If you need all those takes, you're either a horrible director or she sucks at what she does, but she looks pretty damn good to me, which means you suck at what you do." A new voice said in a lazy drawl.

I think my world stopped turning; my heart nearly did. I knew that voice, I dreamed with that voice, I longed for that voice, and there he was, standing in a militant stance in front of me, alive with his hands in his pocket. He looked like he wanted to start a fight.

God, I guess I do owe you one. I whispered silently with my hands covering my mouth.

"Who the hell are you?" in my muddled mind, I heard Chad ask, his face red with anger as he stared at the stranger who had dared to say he sucked at what he did when the whole industry knew he was the best.

"Someone you don't wanna mess with," The stranger answered, then he moved his eyes to me. I could see recognition and a bit of anger, which I wasn't sure who it was directed to, me, or chad.

He was in a black suit, a white shirt, and a scowl on his face, frighteningly unapproachable. He looked like an executive; his presence exuded power; he also looked very intimidating, everyone in that room, including Chad recognized he wasn't a man to be trifled with.

I didn't notice anything else because I suddenly chocked, trying to fight back the tears. For the first time in three years, I broke done. I cried unattractively loud for someone who was on the current vogue magazine; the mascara must have been forming a black line down my face. However, I still cried, I cried like I was trying to make up for all those times I wanted to but couldn't, I cried because he was alive, I cried because he was a sign that God did hear me that day, I cried because I missed him and because I felt whole again.

Everyone turned their eyes on me, watching as I cried uncontrollably. Their faces filled with shock and confusion.

I knew what they said behind my back. I was known as a cold bitch. No one has ever seen me this emotional.

I honestly didn't care what they will say about this. My perfect stranger was alive, and here, in front of me. I ran to him, not caring that my legs might become entangled in wires connecting the lights, cameras, and cables. I just wanted to get to him

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, hugging him tight to me as I bawled my eyes out.

"Ciao Bella,' He whispered to my ear. His arms tightening around me. Those two words brought back memories that probably would have caused a panic attack and a need for a pill in different circumstances. But I was in his arms, and strangely, I felt safe. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." I wasn't sure how many times I said sorry in between bawling, but I kept saying it even as my body shook, my throat hurting as I sniffled loudly, my heart joyous that he had made it.

"Why are you sorry?" his voice was soothing, his voice deep yet calming a fresh bout of tears already threatening on my eyes.

"For leaving you behind." He chuckled softly, and it was the best sound I had heard in a long time.

"I told you to leave. It was my decision."

"But, I should have insisted."

"If you had, you wouldn't be here today," I believed it when he said it then, and I believed it now.

I stayed in his arms far more than I should have, but it felt so good to be tucked into his body again. "Are you okay now to face the room?" it was the humor in his voice, the caress on my hand that reminded me I was in a room with my colleague and the man whose arms felt like my home had just insulted one the most renowned commercial directors in the business.

"Do you have a handkerchief?" I asked in a quavering voice.

"Sure"

He handed me the handkerchief, and I sneezed while I hid in his body. He didn't say anything while I did, or when I laid my forehead on his chest listening to his heartbeat, or when I softly put my lips on his chest, he let me though I felt a tremor run through his body.

I didn't want to face the room, but I had to.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking at Chad. "If you can give me five minutes to clean up, I'll...

"Forget it, we'll go with what we have," he cut me off.

Jerk, I thought. I knew he already had a perfect shoot.

I turned to him, the stranger who wasn't exactly a stranger. A man whose name I still didn't know. "I need to clean up, would you please wait for me."

He nodded, walking to the window. I watched him walk, blushing to the roots of my hair when he caught me.

"I'll be here when you get back" Suddenly I knew why I watched him, I was afraid he would leave without me, and he knew it.

I ran across the room, missing the looks they gave me. I didn't care; what worried me was that Chad might give me an even harder time in the future.

I quickly changed into the clothes I had worn that morning, regretting that I hadn't taken the time to choose the best from my wardrobe.

Running to the mirror, I shrieked. Oh my god, I looked like a clown or ready for Halloween. How was I supposed to face him after this? But I had to because the alternative was never to see him again. I washed my face with warm water, applied a little moisturizer and touch of pink lipstick.

Finally, I was presentable. I didn't know whether Chad exchanged more words with him because, by the time I joined him, he was alone, his back to me.

"That didn't take much time." His voice took me by surprise.

"How did you it was me? barely made a noise."

He chuckled, turning to face me. His shirt was black around his heart; I had done that.

"I'm sorry about that," I said, pointing at the stain with my chin.

"Don't be. I didn't mind.

We stood at opposite sides, staring at each other. "I'm wondering what to do first, kiss you or kill you?" His eyes never left mine as he walked the distance separating us in confident strides. He stood a breath away from me, our eyes still on each other. He was bewitching me. I could feel my heart racing, my hands sweating until I couldn't hold his eyes anymore.

"Which one should I do first, Bella mia, kiss you or kill you?" he asked again, lifting my chin so he could look into my eyes.

"You can't kiss me if I'm dead," I whispered in a trembling voice.

Jesus Christ, How does he turn me into a wobbling idiot?

He laughed out loud, and it was the most beautiful sound I ever heard.