Valentine's Miracle

by Celia Crown

  I honestly don’t care what they were doing as long as they were not disrupting my time with their protests and ginormous body costumes.

  “Oh, me?” a woman’s voice squawks beside me as I tear my eyes away from the brand of new makeup.

  “I’m a blogger, I keep great track of the things I eat, and it’s how I’m able to be this fit.” The same woman gestures down her curvy body, a natural curve of her spine is beautiful.

  Everyone here is gorgeous, and there is just me in casual clothing while they’re donned in fine silk and heavy jewelry. It’s not my taste, but I don’t find it offensive when the light reflects on their big accessories.

  “I work on a massive platform, the biggest on earth and it’s famous for being fair to the creators. I live stream because my followers like to see the content without edits.” Another woman in the group chatting beside me giggles waving her long fingers.

  The freakishly long nails are giving me anxiety because they are just below her eye, one wrong bump from someone behind, and she’ll need to go to the emergency room for that eye to be back in its rightful place.

  The total number of women around me talking in one big group is too many for me to count, and I’m not blind to see the looks they give Silas. He’s an attractive man, and that mysterious grouch of an expression on his face tends to trigger a woman’s heartstrings about a bad boy needing rescue.

  Jealousy is not my forte, and I realize it now when they try to speak to him. They offer him their names and their phone number along with their social media handles just in case he wants different angles of them, and lastly, their final action is giving him their hotel room key.

  I press my lips together, holding back a laugh when I feel the annoyance rolling off his skin. Silas barks out a short but distinctive sentence that should not be repeated.

  The women don’t give up; they surround him like hawks while I just scoot away silently. I want to understand how one makeup product can have the smoothest and most pigmented color I have ever felt.

  “I’ll take this.” I point at the eyeshadow palette; the colors are bolder and not in the natural shades that most would use.

  The man in front of me coos, “Oh, you have sharp eyes. This is our best-seller; every gorgeous buyer has returned for backups.”

  “Oh?” I humor back. “Then, it’s that good?”

  “It’s amazing,” he gasps at his words, putting his hand by his eyes. The glitter on them is bright, and it shifts colors when he turns his head.

  “One swipe and the canvas of your beautiful face will become a masterpiece.”

  I laugh at his dramatic demonstration, but the chattering beside me gets louder. I turn to see Silas practically on the edge of his self-control while the women have the balls to touch him, but that doesn’t last long because Silas smacks her hand away.

  “Yikes,” I breathe the word softly.

  Women are jealous creatures, but some are less than others. One of them is me, and I don’t feel any possessiveness over Silas when he’s surrounded by beautiful women and their magnificent accomplishments.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” the vendor asks as he takes the cash from my hand.

  I shake my head. That idea is ludicrous. Even if I wanted to be his girlfriend, Silas would relocate his entire life to the bottom of the ocean if it means getting away from me. He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t want to be anything other than the protection for this convention.

  Before yesterday, I had hope, and I worked towards being a friend again with slow steps. After yesterday, it was a futile effort because he has made up his mind. When Silas wants to do something, he’s going to put everything on the line just to do it.

  If he doesn’t want to be my friend, I’ll have a better chance of befriending a wild boar.

  “Don’t lose your chance, chéri.”

  I cock an eyebrow at the sudden change of accent. “French?”

  “Born and raised in Toulouse.”

  Excitement flushes my body as I laugh; the place is familiar in my memories. It was my winter break of freshman year in college; a close friend and I went to France where we did extensive research on hidden gems in places that aren’t talked about much.

  “The Rue is absolutely breathtaking. The street performers are astonishing, and the art that connects everyone from around the world!”

  The vendor’s eyes brighten, and I don't think he was expecting someone from the States to know about the best-hidden secret of his home city.

  “You’ve been there?” he asks, pride shines brighter than the glitter on his eyes. “The Rue is the pride of Toulouse. Only locals know when the impulsive creators would come out to perform.”

  I laugh at the memories; my friend and I were coated in environmentally-safe dust of colorful paint. “It’s what gives it the name. When it leaves, everyone feels regret because they have this feeling of not being able to have the most fun when they are all exhausted.”

  “You seem to know it from experience,” he remarks, a grin pulling on his lips.

  “One month and three Rue experiences; it’s the best vacation I could ever ask for.”

  A high-pitched screech breaks the happiness between the vendor and I as I take the bag he had delicately arranged.

  “Oh my god!” a woman’s voice screams. “You’re Alejo Vazquez’s guard!”

  I turn my head, watching the frown on Silas’ face deepen. Just that moment, he turns to me and glares with those green eyes. I’m not sure if he’s glaring because he’s asking for help or he’s blaming me for being in that situation.

  How was I supposed to know that he’s going to be this popular with the ladies? If Sebastian is here, he’d be over the moon with how many women are flocking into his arms. He did say that he likes catfights and ethical issues are out the window if they fight like women scorned.

  “Everyone’s talking about you!” the same woman screams again.

  I give her three seconds before Silas hisses something out and it’s most likely not a pleasant experience to be on his bad side. The woman looks as if she’s offended, but she wouldn’t be an influencer if she doesn’t have a thicker skin to cynical haters.

  “I will pay you double if you become mine.”

  My eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes return to mine. The anger in them is at the boiling point, and I need to defuse the situation before he tosses that woman out of the window. I don’t think his company is going to protect him on a voluntary manslaughter charge.

  “Ladies, please allow space for Silas to breathe.” I push past them and stand beside the raging man.

  The woman who seems to be the center of the attention has her lips curling in discontent at my disruption. Her change of demeanor gets Silas subtly putting himself in a position where he has the maximum space between them without touching me.

  I want to remind him that not everything is an active threat.

  “Who’re you?” the woman snobbishly snorts. She isn’t all the interested in my name, but she probably wants to know what kind of person she’s dealing with.

  I’m not a bigshot mogul or a tycoon of a Fortune 500 company. I’m just a mathematician with a flexible schedule and good money-saving skills, but that’s just because I spend money on things that I am able to afford without feeling guilty of spending my own hard-earned money.

  Sometimes, it’s good to treat myself.

  “Just a concerned citizen.” I smile, and that makes her riled up.

  I’m trying to be civil, but she’s being unreasonable.

  “This doesn’t concern you.” She crosses her arm. Her friends or other influencers stand close by to see what Queen Bee wants to do with little old me. I’m not going to fight her, especially not with those acrylic nails and I’m just not a violent person.

  Silas, on the other hand, is not above hitting women. Sebastian had said something about Silas seeing red and gender means nothing to him. Some would say this is the gender equality that everyone is fighting for,
but I believe they’re mistaking the points that are made.

  Violence is never the answer.

  It just rubbed me the wrong way when Sebastian unintentionally paints Silas as a violent person. I have never heard one incident about abusing power in the company, and I would have heard about it from Sebastian. That man can’t keep a secret, nor does he even understand what a non-disclosure agreement means when he started working for them.

  “Ladies,” I get their attention as I raise my hands up to show that I’m not going to take my imaginary earrings out to fight them. “This is Silas; he’s my bodyguard. If you wish to use his services, I suggest you book his time; he is a very popular choice.”

  Oh. I think I just made the situation worse. The Queen Bee of the group fumes and she pulls out her checkbook from her designer bag, and even her pen is wrapped in the status of gold.

  I recall my words, and I don’t find them offensive. It’s just the truth. I’m surprised that Sebastian had the skills to pull this off when I remember him saying that Silas is one of the top choices for security and he has to be booked weeks ahead.

  “Here,” the woman snaps while tossing me a check with a lot of zeros. “Use that for your new bodyguard.”

  Silas takes the check, crumbles it in his hand, and forces it in the woman’s advancing hand to him. She freezes, fear clustering on her face while her caterpillar fake lashes flutter in shock as if she can't believe what she witnessed.

  It’s just a glare. Everyone has had that thrown at them at least once in their life. I happen to have more than the average human being because Silas has always been that uncooperative and difficult young boy.

  “I will break your fucking arm.”

  I swear I hear cooing from the sea of women. This is not supposed to be a turn-on for someone, and it’s definitely not appropriate for this type of event. Not to mention, this is a public place where we are surrounded by gossiping influencers who like to use every bit of gossip and drama to get more fame.

  Talking to the media is not an exception; they love the camera and the eyes of millions on them.

  “Silas, please.” I try to calm him. I wish he would just politely tell her to go away, but that wouldn’t be Silas’ style, and there is not a single bone in him that makes him nice.

  “We’re leaving,” Silas commands, leaving no room for me to object.

  The woman is about to open her mouth when a flash of panic clouds her eyes. Oh my goodness, she really wants Silas for whatever reason. I understand that the influencer industry is a cutthroat business, but she doesn’t need to be that desperate for one bodyguard as there are hoards of them walking around on this planet.

  Well, I can’t cross out the suspicion that she wants Silas’ face as a selling point in whatever content she pushes out.

  “My lovely ladies, please don’t give my dear beloved a difficult time.”

  My eyebrows shoot up at the familiar voice, smoother than baby oil and the tongue of silver. There is no way anyone can mistake that voice for anyone other than that philandering man that makes the news spin with his weekly adventures of new women.

  It’s not Sebastian. Fyodor Prostakov makes Sebastian tip his head in defeat. Shame is not in that man’s vocabulary; in fact, he bathes in the distressing irk of people who judge his lifestyle.

  He is a friend, and it’s sad to say that it doesn’t bother me when I see him with a different woman in his arm every week. Sometimes two, but who am I to judge him for having fun as a consenting adult.

  “Ah, simpleton, what is so interesting that you ascend into the mortal grounds?”

  “Oh, you know,” Fyodor humors me with a grin while the ladies partway for him as if he’s Moses. “My throne is lonely, and my love, please stop it with ‘simpleton’.”

  “That is the meaning of your family name, is it not?” I counter back.

  My eyes focus on the other man, and my eyebrows shoot up quickly. Well, this is surely going to be interesting.

  “Sebastian, I thought you were guarding a princess.” I tilt my head.

  He cracks a grin after nodding at Silas who is a frozen statue next to me, from the women and the presence of a new face that he’s never seen before.

  Sebastian sighs, shrugging his shoulders while more women part ways. “I can’t skip the chance of guarding the Fyodor Prostakov. A princess has no power over me as a king does.”

  I cast a look at Fyodor who shines me a bright smile. The women near him swoon and I hold back a shudder that pinches the lower part of my spine.

  I have been friends with this man since freshman orientation, and I still get affected by that ghastly flirtatious behavior, but we’re still close friends for some reason. We’re practically the opposite, and we remained friends throughout the years, but opposites attract fits in platonic relationships too.

  “I can’t ever see him as a romantic interest because I’m not interested, but I have also seen him run through the university women’s population in two years. And that’s without a shortage of transfer students and international students.

  “Tori, you know him?” Sebastian gasps. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been dying to meet him.”

  “Now you have,” I reply. “Disappointing, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll have you know that Sebastian and I are becoming very good friends; our interests are atrociously similar.”

  They’re talking about women. It’s obvious, and I think it’s why Fyodor caught my attention while we stayed friends for so long; he reminds me of Sebastian yet so different too.

  Fyodor is the smooth snake while Sebastian is the crass talker.

  “Why am I not surprised,” I deadpan with a laugh.

  Fyodor offers a hand, but Silas stops me from taking it. “Allow me to treat an old friend and new friends to dinner.”

  “Hands off,” Silas warns, the tone just a thread too dangerous. A little bit more eerily daunting than the usual voice where it’s velvety and rough, and it sends shivers down my spine.

  “Sorry, sir. Silas is a bit protective.” Sebastian laughs, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

  “No, no,” Fyodor shakes his head and boisterously compliments the man that probably wants to shove a boot down his throat. Fyodor tends to bring that side out of many people.

  “I am glad that my precious victory goddess is in virtuous hands!”

  I roll my eyes as Silas walks beside me, sharp green eyes gauging the man beside me while Sebastian just laughs in his hand.

  “That was once, and I won a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.”

  I didn’t know that festivals can let people win more than stuffed animals. That was the first time I had been gifted antiseptic with a congratulation from the vendor.

  “You did it for me,” Fyodor coos.

  “You were whining,” I correct.

  “I was bleeding.”

  I sigh harder while the choked laughter from Sebastian grows louder in the elevator. “It was a scratch, you man-child.”

  “Infected by bacteria.”

  I have the slightest energy to keep my fatigue from resurfacing from last night’s awful sleep. Silas’ words have been echoing in my head while my eyes were staring into the darkness of the hotel room, and I did not dare to turn on my other side to risk looking at him.

  “What are you doing here? Conventions aren’t your style.”

  The Russian man hums, tapping his chin with a slick black suit crumbling by his action. Fyodor steals a glance at Sebastian who’s looking at the buttons on the elevator, unaware and unsuspecting of the signature stare that I’m familiar with.

  Fyodor fancies Sebastian.

  Oh dear.

  This is going to be interesting.

  Chapter Six

  Silas

  My opinion on this Fyodor man is still up for discussion.

  He irks me because he knows things about Victoria that even Sebastian didn’t know, but I don’t dislike him because he is respectful yet retains the ability to bring lau
ghter to the table.

  I haven’t seen Victoria laugh like that in years. A part of me is hurt that she doesn’t laugh like that with me, but then I would remember what the reason for it is.

  “Question for a student here,” Sebastian says as he raises his hand. “How’d you two meet? You guys look like you’re from different worlds.”

  “It was a rainy morning at freshmen orientation. Everyone had to find shelter because it was the worst rainstorm that came abruptly.”

  My eyes naturally move to Victoria. I have stopped trying to lie to myself that she doesn’t mean something to me. Victoria is important, but my mind is just not willing to accept it, and this stubbornness only gets fueled by my determination to not lose my heart once again.

  I admit that she will always be something to me but putting a name to it will require nothing short of an apocalypse.

  “Then I see her with a blue and white umbrella. They were sunny clouds on a rainy day. It was my calling. I just had to know her.”

  Sebastian’s expression pinches, eye twitching a bit while his lip purses. “That sounds… strange.”

  “Before I could hear her sweet, honied voice, she uses a wrist flick of perfection to launch her hot bagel into my face.”

  Not an inch of me reacts with surprise. It would be something she would do under circumstances that were questionable in the big picture. I’m glad she took the precaution to act first and ask questions later.

  “It was dark, raining, and you bulldozed out of nowhere. What did you think I was going to do?” Victoria takes a drink of her red wine.

  By her taste, it’s not bitter nor too sweet. The name is already forgotten after Fyodor introduced it, but the year was remarkable since the restaurant was going to open a bottle of old wine for one person.

  It goes to show what money can do. Everyone will turn a blind eye to everything if the cash is greener than my eyes.

  “I was expecting a kiss or a squeal; I’m not that picky.” Fyodor’s glass raises with his champagne swooshing.

  I opted for water, and so did Sebastian. We’re on the job, and I don’t touch alcohol. I find it to be a useless thing for my body.