He saw Bron by the door, raging at them.
And somehow, that made Ortega smile…
Even after Bron pointed his gun at him.
***
Sleep was a web of black that seemed to have Ortega trapped in it.
He'd gotten somehow to spooning Mae,
and by the curl of his lips you could tell he was in a very sweet dream.
The blanket of night began to dim into lighter streaks as hours passed.
Soon, Ortega was sweating, his face twisting into all sorts of frowns.
The first rays of sunlight streaked in and burned his face.
He patted the space beneath him.
For some reason, 'twas empty.
Strange…
Wasn't he sleeping with Mae?!
!!!
Ortega's eyes snapped awake.
So did his head, this way and that. Mae was nowhere to be seen, and shit, Bron could come in at any time…
He sat up and winced, rubbing his head as a headache loomed.
What the hell is wrong with me…?
Why would I agree to spend the night with Mae after what we did?
A pleasant, mouthwatering aroma interrupted his paranoid thoughts.
Is that… beef stew?
He sniffed aloud.
'Twas! He wasn't mistaken.
His stomach growled with need.
Shut up, he willed it.
And it did…
But that was before Mae came in.
Ortega had to rub his eyes.
Was she wearing an apron…?
Braless?
He realized as she set the food down on the mini table beside the bed.
It steamed hot in a flask.
"You finally woke up," she said, looking at him.
Her expression was worried.
"You seemed stressed at night, and you kept talking in your sleep…"
Oh… Ortega thought.
That was why he found himself covered.
He fanned his face.
If anything, the hot food only made him hotter and he desperately needed to wash from the grime of yesterday.
He needed to get home as soon as possible.
Mae had a calm, peaceful look on her face.
A far cry from the stress she usually displayed.
Ortega was relieved to see her this way.
"You're glowing," he couldn't help but say.
With that, she frowned.
"So because I'm serving you food, I'm glowing, eh?"
Ortega stuttered, not knowing what to say.
Mae looked annoyed.
"That's not what I meant," he managed.
"I know what you meant, of course," Mae said as she took the food away.
Ortega watched her.
Was she really that annoyed…?
He smirked and said nothing as her steps slowed toward the door.
Ortega was already on his feet.
He needed to leave anyway.
If Mae was going to take away her food, then fine.
Was she hoping he'd beg her?
That he wasn't used to this hunger?
Ortega didn't know why he was getting so vexed over something so trivial.
He walked—and she turned back—
Past her…
…Out front…
And to the store exit.
"Wait," she called before he could leave.
"Bron's on a business trip," she blurted.
Somehow, that made Ortega feel worse.
"So?" he scowled sourly.
"So… stay with me. You can have the food. All of it."
Ortega blinked as he watched her come closer.
"Please…"
She had on her face a very irresistible expression.
Ortega was seriously torn.
Who was this woman really…?
Then his eyes widened as the realization dawned.
Had she become addicted, or worse… fallen in love with him?
Ortega sighed, pained about making her feel this way toward him.
She just wanted not to be alone.
Ortega clenched his fists.
His stomach rumbled, and he gritted his teeth.
"Miss Mae," he said, and she pouted because he used her title.
Ortega didn't care.
He needed to make one thing clear between them.
But right now…
His stomach protested.
He needed food.
His temples still throbbed, and he wasn't in the mood for talk.
But he would be after he rested.
That's what he told Mae.
That he needed space.
"Okay," her pout turned shy, dejected.
But she handled it well.
He smiled, pivoted on his heels, and made for the exit.
When he got to the door, he turned the handle.
It didn't budge.
Maybe it was broken.
He tried again.
Same thing.
His smile soured.
He bent down and saw—
That it was locked.
Shiiiiit!
"Mae," he growled, "what the fuck is going on?"
She giggled.
"Ortega," she purred. "You sound like such a beast…"
He snapped at her.
"It's not funny, Mae. Where are the keys?"
"What keys?" she asked, playing dumb.
Ortega wanted to kick something.
His clothes stuck to his body.
He stunk.
He felt itchy.
His eye twitched.
This was turning into a nightmare.
He should never have come here.
No—he should have left when he had the chance, after they fucked.
Damn the security concerns.
The fucking bitch was a psycho.
He took deep breaths.
It took all his willpower, but he made his voice steady.
"Mae, I need to get home. The keys, Mae. You can't keep me here!"
His voice pitched into a booming roar at the end.
Mae watched him.
He couldn't read her in his rage.
Fuuuuck!
Ortega clutched his head.
"Fuck my life!"
He kicked the damn door.
It wouldn't open with the keys—he'd break it down.
Bron was rich.
He could afford a new one.
He felt suddenly stupid for feeling superior earlier.
Bron was making smart moves.
He didn't have women locking him in cages.
Ortega's feet ached with each kick, but his knees were weak from yesternight's action, and he was hungry.
Ortega stopped.
Defeated.
He saw his reflection in the glass door.
He looked like a fucking mess.
That irked him more.
"Ortega?"
"What?" he snapped.
Mae shuddered.
"Come eat, please. You're scaring me…"
Ortega's eyes bulged.
"Scaring you?"
This bitch… she's lost it.
He banged the door.
"Heeeeeeelp!"
"They won't hear you, Ortega," she said calmly. "Soundproof."
He knew this.
But he still screamed, hoping it would all shatter as a sick nightmare.
Bron chasing him with a loaded gun now seemed very much attractive.