Ivana
Just who did he think he is? Some sort of king? Well yes, he was a king for all intents and purposes. But I was a free human being, I was a free thinker, I was not some mindless drone who would follow him to oblivion, who would be scared by his antics. But damn, did he scare me—and as much as he aroused me. That in itself was not fair. I could have bawled my eyes out even as I was discharged from the hospital the next day.
"There's no reason for us to keep you here any longer," the pretty female doctor had said.
Her face, however, did not seem so kind. Her lips were pursed, her eyes focused and glaring daggers into my soul.
Just why did she hate me that much?
"Jesus, is it me, or is it that your doctor has a bone to pick with you?" Kyla had teased when we left the hospital.
She had pulled the seatbelt across my body, covered my leg.
"Then again, I can't blame her. It's not everybody the king visits—and then closes the door behind them, requesting that no one disturb you. Requesting that you be put in a VIP suite, by the way. Normally, everybody's always in the double-shared or triple-shared rooms or whatever. But you—apparently, you were carried in by the king, who blatantly refused to let anyone else look at you. He brought you in here, requested for the room, and still spoke to you by himself. That's enough to cause a scandal in the old society, but you know, modern day stuff. So why wouldn't she be hurt? The king broke many hearts when he announced his engagement to Miss Baldwin.
"I can imagine the doctor was one of those. Apparently, she attended the same academy with the king way back when he was young. And apparently, they must have known each other. So I kind of don't blame her—I could see the hatred and the love in her eyes at the same time. Somehow, I guess she still thinks that somewhere deep in his heart, he'll break up with Miss Baldwin. Hello? It's Baldwin!"
Kyla honked several times before pulling out of the parking lot.
"What is it about Miss Baldwin?" I couldn't help but ask. "Does she have a special power, special ability, or what?"
Kyla shrugged.
"Oh, you know the usual. Her father apparently is one of the richest old families—we're talking nearly a millennia or a millennia-and-a-half old and rich. His first son is an ambassador, and she, the second daughter, is well-distinguished and ladylike enough to hang around the king long enough for his council to finally say maybe it was time for him to get married. And I guess they just pushed her onto him. It made sense—they look like the perfect match."
I lost focus, though. She was genuinely unconcerned, but at the same time, she was fangirling. It was almost as though he was her favorite singer and she was his favorite actress, and the fact that they were together made her nearly lose her mind.
"You know, I've seen that sort of attitude before," I said. "People who loved One Direction—Harry Styles. And then people who loved it when he was dating… what's her name again? I don't remember. Was it the Arabian guy?"
Kyla chuckled.
"Nobody is! And I do feel like that about the king. It's enough to feel like that—partly the reason why I couldn't understand anything he said yesterday. But it's okay, I don't blame you. You're from outside—that's how people from outside think about us. They look at our people, our citizens, and believe that we're suffering. But look around—we're not suffering. I mean, there are poor people. There are poor people in every country, even in the best places there are poor people. But it's not so bad," she said.
"Just loosen up about them. You'll learn to love the place. I'll take you to some really nice places too—you'll see."
The rest of the ride was mostly conversationless. I was left to rest and shown a new apartment different from the one I had been taken to at first. According to Hang, it was a special request of the King, but half of me expected that the place was bugged to oblivion.
Of course, I would be watched. He had asked me point blank if I had anything to do with the attempt on his life, and I denied it. Behalf of me couldn't blame him. He was only trying to secure himself—as selfishly as possible, I might add.
I found some peace and quiet in the bathroom. After sweeping the place several times for bugs, I came up clean. Looks like, despite the desperation dissected in every way, shape, or form, they would at least leave me alone with my dignity.
I pulled out my small phone from where I hid it, and I called Jason.
"Was it you?" I asked as soon as he picked up.
"Me? What? Are you talking about the bomb? Are you crazy? I'm not," he said. "I'm not crazy enough to actually try to kill someone. And when I heard you were there—my God, I lost my mind. We need to talk," he said. "Now. Find out how you can come out, do anything—I just need to see you. I need to make sure you're okay."
My heart melted. But not as much as it did before—not as much as when Constantine put his lips close to my ears, not as much as it was when I somehow unintentionally breathed in his scent.
That one wasn't my fault. He was right there.
"Not today," I said. "I'm still pretty injured, and I'm still woozy from the painkillers. But tomorrow," I said. "I'll try to come out tomorrow."
"Can I come see you?" His voice was much quieter.
"My new apartment has been bugged to a living. The only places that are mostly safe are probably the kitchen and the bathroom. Maybe the balcony. If I want to see you, it might have to be outside—and even then, I want to bet someone's going to be following me. So you're going to have to at least cover up. Wear a wig, I don't know. Put on a bucket hat or something. Try and look like a K-pop star that's out in public."
I chuckled.
"Tomorrow it is," he said with a small laugh of his own.
After a quick shower, I found myself knocked out, waking up at about noon the next day to a text from Jason.
How's the night? Let's meet up at this park.
He attached an image from the map.
I lounged around the room, ate the food that was provided, and waited until 7 before I put on a baggy sweatshirt and a baggy pair of sweatpants, slides, and simply ran out the door.
I found him with a face cap, a nose mask, and an actual pair of sunglasses. He was dressed in black and had pulled his hoodie over his head.
"Who would have thought—you do look like a K-pop idol incognito. If anyone asks, we're dating in secret."
I laced my hand through his and pulled him into a hug.
"I would never endanger your life," he said. "I love you too much for that."
He nuzzled my neck and breathed in my scent.
Oh Jason, I thought.
My heart was disconnected.