The Bodyguard

Cards and Hearts

Emilia leans against her door, gasping for breath as she closes her eyes, covering them with a shaky hand. Whatever had just happened in the kitchen, she couldn't let that happen, he worked for Mr. Delmont! He was four years older! And he was so damn attractive. The last thought came unbid, but she didn't exactly regret it. It was true, his strong build, his eyes that had the power to captivate everything about her, his messy dark hair that she just wanted to run her hands through with that clean shaven chin and straight nose, with pale lips so serious that she just wanted to make him smile, just once.

His face, so incredibly close, her hand in his as he stands between her knees, looking at her like that. Her heart thumps harder than ever as she presses her cheek to the cool wood, peering through the key hole to see that dark, crisp suit standing just outside blocking her view. Cupping her own face in her hands she moves away quickly, wanting to just forget about what had happened, focus on her mission, she needs to figure out what Mr. Delmont is up to. How had her interrogation of him turned into her almost kissing him, she laments, flinging herself from the door to her suitcases still sitting on the ground and begins to unpack, immediately remembering her loss of a charger and that she needs to find it so she can tell Jazz everything, everything.

Her heart seems to stop beating for the briefest of moments as she remembers what she had been ordered to do. He might be able to keep her from seeing her best friend, but he could not keep them from being in contact, she thinks grimly, flinging a jacket to the side and finally finding that damn charger, plugging it firmly into the wall before returning to the mess of bags that she needs to sort out. Figuring the best way to do it is first remember what in the world she even brought with her, beginning to dump them out rather gently just incase there was anything breakable she forgot about onto the floor.

Finally finished with that part and having shoved all of the bags into one and shoved it in the bottom of the very spacious walk-in closet that had much more than enough room for her clothes. Thankfully there are already hangers there, all matching of course, and grabs an armful putting them on the floor beside all the clothes and beginning to hang them up one by one, surprisingly enjoying organizing them.

All of her tops fit into four categories, hoodies, crop top sweaters, tank tops, and about two business type outfits for during presentations. There was the way she dressed, but it didn't match how she wished she dressed but didn't have the courage to actually go out and get those clothes, she thinks with a sigh of slight disappointment at the thought and moves everything to the awaiting bars that would hold them until she took them out one by one to wear. Next came the four dresses she owns, a very simple cocktail dress, a sweater dress, and two professional ones. Of course there are skirts and pants, and socks, and underwear, and everything else a girl needs to wear as she puts each item away one by one. 

She has so few things that if she wanted each of them could go on their own shelf or own area, and nothing would be together, but she likes her little group of things. She likes how she doesn't fill up the space, that she doesn't quite fit there because that is exactly how she feels, she thinks to herself as she clicks the closet light and shuts the door, beginning to clean up the rest of her things, little knick-knacks and pictures, small things that could make her feel more at home. She had more than enough products to fill the bathroom, the one area she actually very much enjoyed with its full bath and shower, and a closet full of very nice soaps and things to place in that bath, something she would definitely need to try out later.

She carefully unfolds a polaroid camera from its case and tries to not let the sudden tears that well-up in her eyes fall, the last gift from her father for Christmas, she had written him about wanting one, a random thing that she wanted to document memories, and miraculously he had sent to her, with only one polaroid taken, of him. It was dark, and badly done, but it was the only photo she had, she had never asked her mother for one, she knew the pain he caused her heart, but he had given her what she really wanted without her ever even asking for it.