The Bodyguard

Private Conversations

(Sorry guys!!! I'm back though!)

Emilia was talking the hallway to hell, the empty, whispering hallway toward the devil himself. Of course, that was only her personal opinion. But she was quite certain that nearly every other person in that ballroom could feel the tension of taught tempers and anxiety between them as she steps up to his menacing form, caged by penetrating stares around them.

"There you are Emilia, I was really hoping to talk to you before you got too lost in the crowd." He says, nonchalantly, almost friendly in a way. Probably the friendliest he had ever been with her, she thought ruefully, unsure how to answer.

"Let's head to a little more private of an area, shall we?" He raises an eyebrow as if daring her to say otherwise, tempting her into refusing and running for the exit a million paces behind her.

"Sure." She manages past the cotton ball that had been steadily growing in her throat, choking on it slightly as his hand comes in contact with her lower back in a subtle gesture to move along.

She couldn't help the small flinch she had as his cold hand came in contact with her bare skin, the cold-blooded reptile showing through his human form. Jumping forward like she was afraid he would stab her in the back, right then and there, in a room packed with people. Then again, maybe he would, who cared about witnesses in a room full of criminals.

She spied out of the corner of her eye his other hand as it clenched briefly before falling back to his side, like her flinch was an offence worthy of reaction. It had her heart leaping with new fear in her chest, she swore if this night didn't end soon her heart just might beat out of her chest in panic. 

"Allow me to lead the way then, Emilia." The curling snarl that was her name could not make his temper more obvious than when he stormed past her, brushing her shoulder with the aura of rage that constantly seemed to surround the man. Leading with strides so long that she may have to run to keep up.

But then, Emilia had always been a stubborn little shit, even before this man appeared in her life. That wasn't about to change with the added fear of a sudden violent death in front of witnesses. 

What did get her moving was a different hand in the small of her back, one warm and significantly more gentle. One that had her melting with the goosebumps raised on her exposed skin. It gently wrapped around to the other side of her waist, a steadying hold that had her stumbling into an awkward walk finally.

Emilia's stubbornness didn't melt or crumble under the man's firm hand, but perhaps it bent just a little to the logic and reality of a dangerous situation. With one hand on her heels, the other lifting just the edge of her skirt in as delicate a manner as she can muster and not visibly tremble. Following Mr. Delmont into a silent hallway off the room decorated with suits of armor and lavish paintings of vineyards and romantic countryside villas.

She slows down a little, admiring the beautiful medieval style of this hall alone. She supposed were it not so dark and foreboding she may have actually enjoyed its beauty, just like the rest it felt like something out of a fairytale. Perhaps a dark and gloomy fairytale with a terrible ending, but maybe she'd learn a lesson along the way. 

Without even meaning to with every step she leaned into the warm arm and shoulder that rested just behind her head giving support. Her body fitting just perfectly into that curve of his side, his thumb slipping between her skin and dress to trace a reassuring figure on exposed skin.

And to think, Emilia mused, she had sensed a looming doom over all of this. She steps into the open room behind Mr. Delmont. Eyes wandering around the comfortably outfitted sitting area with a single wall filled only half with books, the rest full of antiques. It resembled something from a movie really, one of those gentlemen smoke lounges where some big shot controls the room with overly expensive liquor and cigars worth more than you could imagine.