The past few days have been extremely hectic. I recall working endlessly to the point of nosebleed only when I was in Paris as a trainee, and in the first year of MK.  Because of that, my doctor coerced me to take a few days off while I wait for Saturday to arrive—the day I'm officially launching my new collection.

Unbelievably everything is going according to plan. My team has been working tirelessly alongside me and I couldn't be prouder of them. As for my assistant, Leslie, she has sworn to haven't received any orders from Patrick, not a single call from him, ever since we had that small chat. I didn't believe her at first, but now I do.

Patrick has been off the grid; it's concerning, knowing what a backstabber he is. Maybe it has something to do with his health condition, that infamous heart attack I heard of, and so I called Imelda today to confirm the rumor, and apparently, Patrick is out of the country for treatment, according to her.

"You think he's sick for real?" Sophie sits next to me in my new home—the penthouse with a spectacular view that I constantly enjoy watching through the terrace, especially at night.

I sip my lemonade, propping my feet onto the L-shaped sofa after the amazing Gnocchi Mom made for dinner.

"I don't know, Mom. And honestly... I don't care," I reply, setting the glass on my thigh while leaning back tiredly. "I just want to finalize my divorce with him so we can go our separate ways and nothing more. Speaking of which, must you leave so soon, Sophie? Can't you stay until the launch?"

My face turn bleak at the thought of her leaving tomorrow. I know it's for the best that she goes back to New Orleans but I feel like I need her so much this time around.

Sophie smiles modestly, and I'm sure she loves the attention—this woman.

"Honey, you know I'd want nothing but to stay here and watch you shine on that launching night," she says. I believe her. "But I'm afraid your Tia will destroy my salon by then if she's already facing police charges for breaking someone's nose at the first chance she got."

We laugh heartily, even though it's an unfortunate event.

Just yesterday we heard Aunt Lana engaged herself in a fight with a customer, one of the nosy housewives from St. Louis. Knowing the infamous Diaz temper that I successfully inherited, I think Mom has every reason to worry.

"Alright. What can I say?" I breathe, staring at my half glass of lemonade, contemplating my many problems.

"But is everything okay, Mia Vera?" Mom asks in a softer voice, forcing my eyes to behold her worried face.

She's seated on the lounging couch adjacent to me and opposite the terrace window. The living room is spacious; it's not cramped with unnecessary furniture. I love the classy decorations and bold black-and-white details of the interior theme.

"Estoy bien." I forge a smile. I'm anxious and I don't know why. "I'm just tired; nothing a good rest won't fix."

Mom sighs, sitting cross-legged this time after turning off the rumbling TV that didn't seem to regale her; it was airing anything but a Spanish or Mexican soap opera.

She adores drama. Something I never understood.

"You and Kenna," she goes on cautiously, "are still on good terms, right?"

I fail to respond right away; I find myself considering the answer. I haven't talked to Kenna since the night after the gala. Even my decision to move was too sudden but there was nothing she could do about it, so we parted ways like that.

We're still in touch but...

"I guess we're fine; I'm just not sure to what extent," I reply truthfully. Sophie doesn't cut in; she wants me to say it all. "I mean, she's hiding something from me and I don't like the feeling, Mom. I... I'm just so fucking tired of everyone lying to me and the thought that she's probably one of them, all the while I trust her like a sister I never had, makes me so furious that I don't want to face her yet."

Mom asks me why I feel that way, but I don't think I have the answer. It's just a gut feeling. And what angers me the most is that Red may be involved in whatever secret Kenna is hiding from me. I try my best to neglect the idea of him fucking her behind my back but it always haunts me especially when I'm alone at night.

I don't think I'll ever recover from this trust issue. I'm trying—really, I am—but it's not easy to forget the number of betrayals I'm forced to live with. At times I just tell myself to be ready for anything and to not trust anyone, because another surprise may be lurking around me stealthily waiting for the perfect time.

It breaks me every day to watch myself consumed by this horrendous fear.

"Just talk to her," Mom advises. "I'm not that good at judging people's character but I think she truly cares about you and she would never hurt you intentionally."

"Well, Sophie, I'd hate to break your bubble but people are not always what they seem to be. And You should be the one to tell me this and not the other way around," I tell her, recalling my many experiences. I sip my lemonade and exhale deeply. "I guess, in the end, it's pointless talking to someone who isn't ready to open up. And who knows? Maybe I'm just making it all up in my head."

Maybe I'm losing my mind.

"Maybe," Mom remarks, "but Kenna is your friend and I don't believe she stood by you all this time only to break your heart in the end."

I know she's talking about the possibility of Kenna stealing Red from me because she knows that's my greatest fear even though I'm ashamed to admit it out loud.

"Well, I am grateful for what she did for me when I was at my lowest, and for that reason, I'm trying not to ruin our friendship by keeping my opinion to myself," I reply consciously.

We leave it at that but the more I think of it, the more my imagination succumbs to the dirty scenarios of Red and Kenna together. And the truth is, I think I'll kill or die if I ever find out that Red is cheating on me regardless of how adventitious, illicit, and dangerous our relationship has been.

I fear it'll be my breakpoint.

Before I go to sleep, I call Red; usually, he's the one who calls me to check if I'm okay but there's been a breakage of pattern ever since I moved here two days ago. He picked me up in the mornings, yes, as my bodyguard, but he never bothered to come in when he brought me back in the evening.

He's been incredibly busy, but so was I.

"Hey, how are you doing?" he asks, soft upbeat music mingling with his voice.

My eyebrows knit together as I clamber into my huge bed. "I'm fine. You're not at home?" I don't mean to sound reproaching like a nosy wife but I guess that's exactly how I sound.

Well... so what?

"No, uh...I had something to do downtown but I'll be heading home soon," he replies, and I don't think he's lying.

But then again, I don't even know when he's lying to me because with him it's been either the truth or nothing at all—so he made me believe.

He'll never stop being a mystery to me.

"I see." Pulling in a breath, I sit on the bed scouring the novice space of my vast bedroom that I'm slowly adjusting to. "I just...miss you," I confess.

Going a whole day without seeing him is becoming harder every day. I get moody like a bipolar bitch on her period and I gate how dependent I am.

"I miss you too, baby, and I want so badly to see you right now," Red says, sending warmth down my cheeks. "But I figured you'd want some space with your Mom so—"

"Did you bring your car, you hot stuff?" I hear a lady's voice, an all too familiar one.

I sit upright and the lingering smile on my face fades.

"Is that Kenna?" I ask in a snappy voice.

Red breathes soundly before replying, "Yeah."

I snarl, leaping my feet off the bed.

"You're together! Of course, you're together, what the fucking is wrong with me?" I blurt out frantically and I can hear Kenna muttering something like "What?" to Red in a confused manner.

That familiar pain shoots through my heart, sending tight knots into my stomach, and suddenly, my head feels so jammed it may explode.

"Mia, calm down," Red beseeches. "There's a valid explanation to this—"

"Oh, I bet there is!" I cut in, already up to my feet that begin to wander around the room at a crazed pace. "And I bet that's what every motherfucking cheater says so at least try to be original, Red! Fuck you!"

I end the call, and before I know it, my eyelids are inundated with tears that run down my cheeks warmly at the very first blink.

"Fuck!" I run a hand through my hair while exhaling deeply.

Still lost, Kenna snaps, "What happened, dammit?" She's standing beside me outside a local pub we met for a quick exchange of information.

"Hot stuff?" I almost bark; I'm sure that name was another ingredient for Mia's warranted assumption about this predicament.

Free-spirited with no care in the world, the frivolous Kenna rolls her eyes at me. "You burned me off when I asked you to wait a little longer regarding the girl's death and I do think you're hot so what's the big deal? Does it ignite your kink or something?"

Pissed off, I start heading toward the reckless abandonment of a few cars in the parking area. Music fades but Kenna's boots flap against the pavement as she follows suit, dressed in a jeans and leather jacket, her blonde hair tied at the back of her head like a cop on duty.

"Wait, was that Mia on the phone?" she asks. I refuse to answer. "Fuck, my bad, Red. Sorry. Are you going to see her?"

I stop and turn around swiftly. "Of course I am! She thinks we're together... ever since the gala! And now I owe her a plausible explanation for this one, all thanks to your goddamn discretion."

Her face hardens as she halts in front of me. "What are you gonna tell her?"

"The truth."

"No!"

"What makes you think that I need your opinion?" I drawl in a pissed voice.

"Because I don't give a damn that she's your Achilles heel, Red; you're not making her mine too and I'm goddamn serious right now!" she snaps doggedly.

"I'm so not doing this shit." I go on unlocking my Jeep.

Behind me, I hear a gun cocking. My jaw ticks and my eyes firm on the shadowy space above the front side of the car; very faint light reaches the parking area.

"I'm not a private agent like you, Red, who got into this shit based on military credits and the mere fact that no one knows you enough to exploit your weakness," Kenna states, and I don't need to look over my shoulder to know her 9MM is pointed at me. "I'm a trained spy with a reputation to uphold and an oath to abide! I won't let you compromise my cover just so you can please your woman."

I pop my jaw, letting her condescending words sink in. "And so" — I finally turn around, more pissed than I've been so far — "what are you gonna do to stop me?"

Her grip strengthens around the gun handle. She doesn't bulge but I see conflict in her eyes, and that means she can either shoot if she loses control of her mind or back away if she's still thinking clearly.

"You can't tell her anything about my identity, Red! I won't let you!" she says sternly, and somehow it makes me wonder if it's her cover that she worries about or if it's something else.

I stare at her unyielding yet vulnerable eyes for a good while, paying no attention to the gun held against me threateningly.

Although I know she's only protecting her job and fulfilling her duty as a CIA secret agent, I still can't protect her by lying to Mia any longer.

"You can shoot me if you want to," I tell her calmly, "but I won't let the woman I love believe that I'm fucking her only friend just to cover my own tracks, and much less your ass. And yeah, I'm not a fucking spy or super intelligent agent either and so I do accept my weakness because it's part of me."

Without thinking twice, I slip into the jeep, knowing fully well that I have a fifty-fifty chance to die or live by Kenna's hands, which, unsurprisingly, ends up in my favor as she lowers her gun with a pensive look that finally clears my long-held doubt.

She truly cares about Mia. It's not her cover she's worried about; it's losing Mia's friendship that scares the shit out of her.

___

Sophie regards me through the intercom before I make it out of the elevator once I'm at Mia's place. The lovely Spanish-Albanian woman smiles indulgently while fastening the silky robe of her floor-length nightdress, probably one of her daughter's exquisite creations.

"Everything okay, Red?" Sophie asks, sounding worried that I'm here at this hour.

It's almost ten.

I glance around subtly. The house looks homey now and very suitable for Mia's expensive taste, but she's not in the living room.

"Uh, I wanted to speak to Mia. It's important," I say, grateful that my stubborn woman hasn't spewed the news to her mother yet.

If she did, Sophie would be killing me right now with all the Spanish cussing words I've heard so far coming from her.

God knows how temperamental these women can be.

"Well, she must be sleeping," Sophie replies.

I doubt she's sleeping.

"No need. Please allow me to check on her," I beg, desperately.

Smiling slimy, Sophie Diaz replies, "Of course, Red. Go ahead."

I leave her with the TV and rush toward Mia's bedroom. I've been here once but it feels so different now that it's all refurbished, smelling of paint and newness. When I reach the door I knock; getting no answer, I walk in.

"Mia?" I call gently.

Despite the darkness, just a moon hue glowing bluish through the wall-size window, I manage to see Mia lying on the lounge couch set away from her bed, her knees pulled up to her chest level as though she's sad, cold, and lonely.

All I need is to hold her and never let go.

As I reach the light switch, I hear, "Don't turn on the lights! I don't want you to see me like this," and her voice is the sound of her very recent tears.

______________

A/N: She's her weakness and he's not ashamed to admit it. Hmm, I want a Red for myself haha. Do you think Kenna cares about Mia or she's all business and evil? Now, where did Patrick go?