Walk in the Park

I shake away the exaggerated thoughts invading my brain and look at the clock again. 1 minute left. It would be nice to storm into that apartment and bring her out, but the thing is, I don't know which room she's in, and I don't want to be seen here, or it'll raise too many questions for my liking.

I already partially lied to my father. It's true; I am busy, but not our definition of 'busy'.

I shouldn't be here in the first place. What was I thinking? I should've left it as a simple coincidence, especially with my urge for her growing more and more and my wedding just around the corner.

I really want to say 'screw this marriage’ and see where the road for me and Monique would lead, but I love my mother too much not to fulfill this wish, at least for a short time.

There's always an expiration date, and I'm sure Monique won't want me by the end of it, knowing my father enough to know that he'll choose a lengthy time frame. Maybe mom found it good in them that she'd trust me to marry their daughter, so I'll trust her judgment.

I still feel guilty, unsettled, unhappy, and uneasy about this whole situation. There's a feeling in me wanting and yearning for Monique; I just can't put a label on it. Maybe I don't want to.

I should leave it to time. But what if it doesn't solve itself with time?

I don't know.

She might settle down; after all, she's young and beautiful. I'm sure she won't have a problem finding a guy. And I'm a hundred percent sure she won't settle with me if she does even have feelings—I highly doubt.

I notice how shy she is and how fragile she can be with her emotions, so handling the press and their negativity isn't something suitable for her. Not to mention the way she'd been towards me when I picked her up, and I don't blame her.

She enters the vehicle two minutes later than I expected, but I don't say anything about it, afraid that I'll use my hands instead and do the exact opposite of what I shouldn't.

"Seatbelt," I mumble, strapping up and turning to see if she's done before driving off.

I drop her off and ensure she gets inside before driving off to dinner.

I need to get my shit together.

You do.

Monique

I need to find a way to counter Isabelle's blackmail. I have no clue what to do. The person in that photo looks exactly like me, and given how our parents are, they won't think twice before sending me back to England. It's bad enough that they dislike my mixed-race DNA, but seeing that picture and the potential it has to drag their name into the mud would be the tip of the iceberg for me. And if I got someone to hack her phone, it'd be illegal. But I'm sure people break the law every once in a while.

I successfully got in contact with a hacker, and as long as I keep this to myself, I'll be safe.

I'm one step closer to breaking the leash that Isabelle placed on me unfairly, all thanks to a clueless James. Now onto the next problem. Ryan. My sexy boss, who's supposed to be off-limits, seems to be everywhere I go, although I'm trying to be far away from temptation.

I'm not going as far as to quit my job, but it's quite hard when I work right next to his office, and I don't like these mixed feelings. One minute he wants me under his control, the next he wants me away from him. I'm not that stupid to figure that much out.

I'm truly grateful for this week off.

I sit around my laptop, and I and Mr. Anonymous talk for about an hour relating to the matter, laying down a plan.

I send him her number and whatever information I have, and he confirms that I should give him days or a couple of weeks; if she hid it well, it may take a month.

I should stay inside tomorrow, sleep in, eat, or workout—definitely not; maybe tidy up or go out. There are so many options that don't include work. The beauty of being a personal assistant.

Speaking of which, I wonder what Ryan was doing today; he seemed to have an errand or two to run. It's none of your business, Monique.

Is it not? He shoved his tongue down your throat two days ago.

Ah, go away.

I shush my subconscious, trying to think of something else—anything but him.

I got it—food and books—but first I need a shower.

I need a new pair of jeans. I think as I look around the store. It's quite obvious I've been getting wider hips, but it's annoying since it's a wardrobe menace.

I pick up a few items and cash them, then leave to get dinner for later and go to the public park to relax.

The past 6 months have been hell. A rollercoaster of emotions is a better way to put it. The first two months, I struggled to adapt to this working environment as I was fresh out of college. My clumsiness isn't something I've ever been proud of, as you can tell, but for some reason, Ryan has yet to fire me despite my countless mistakes. He taught me the ropes, and I caught on quite well.

I got to know James when I needed technical help, and I covered for him that same day when he had an emergency as a thank you, and we kept exchanging that favor ever since.

His girlfriend, Jolie, and I are also on the same line of favor, but she works in the customer service section, so I don't see her as often.

The two months following have been stable apart from Ryan and I's collisions that have set off a firework of emotions in me. I find him to be a good person most of the time; he's extremely attractive, determined, ambitious, and hardworking, but also confusing.

His mixed signals of wanting me and not—hot and cold—have put me in a state of confusion over the last 4 months. And when he started verbalizing his dislike for the Smith's, I began to push myself further and further away from my delusional thoughts.

I get up and head to the exit when a little body bumps into mine, and on instinct, I catch it. "Be careful, little guy." I help him up, and his mother thanks me before I leave.