Word Count: 507
What had he done?
Colton stared into his cup of coffee, trying to divine the reason for his madness.
He couldn’t blame it on the explosion.
Yes, he could.
He shook his head, setting the mug down with a sharp click on the marble counter top. He closed his eyes, trying to ease the dull ache behind them.
He laughed grimly to himself. Two words he’d never thought he’d hear spoken in his house. He went to the window, looking over the smooth lawn, the garden. It was a beaming, beautiful day. Already the air conditioner was on, promising a hot afternoon.
“Mr. Savage,” the housekeeper said cheerfully. “Can I fix you anything to eat?”
“No, Rosa. Thanks.”
“Alright.” She said with a sniff. He growled to himself. The problem with having a permanent household staff is they started acting like family.
“Mrs. Savage is looking better than I expected.”
Colton grunted noncommittally.
“She is very pretty, isn’t she?”
Colton was of two minds about this, so said nothing.
“Dreadful, them thinking she had a hand in this!” the woman continued blandly. Rosa Grego loved to talk. “Why, she saved your life! And who knows how many others! She is so very brave. Simply dreadful,” she repeated.
“Yes.” Colton said evenly. He left before she could extol on the woman’s virtues any further.
His mood was not brightened when Mancini showed a man into Colton’s office.
“Mr. Savage.” Mancini murmured gently. Colton looked up from his laptop, scowling.
“This is Dr. Tuilin.”
Colton stood, shaking the man’s hand. “What can I do for you, doctor?”
“The embassy sent me, Mr. Savage.” The man said softly. “I am to examine you and…Mrs. Savage.”
“Why?” Colton asked warily.
“You have experienced a traumatic event, Mr. Savage. The ambassador is concerned for your mental health.”
Colton snorted. He was himself, after yesterday. “I’m fine.”
“Protocol, sir. May I proceed?”
Colton waved him to sit, dropping back to his own chair.
Colton had heard all these questions before. He answered simply, explaining what had happened, how he felt about it. Tuilin nodded finally, capping his pen. “Thank you, sir. Is Mrs. Savage well enough to take some time for me?”
Colton shrugged. “Wait here. I’ll find her.”
“Of course, sir.”
Colton stood, gratefully escaping. Even if he wasn’t traumatized by it, it still made his skin crawl thinking how close to death he’d actually been.
He found Mancini in the kitchen, writing up a menu.
“Where’s…” Colton cleared his throat. “Where’s Renee?”
“I will get her, sir.” Mancini assured him. Colton gave up the task gratefully. He only had to wait a few minutes under Tuilin’s bulging eyes before she knocked at the open door.
“Ah, Mrs. Savage.” Tuilin said, rising to shake her hand. Colton watched as she blushed furiously, bemused. “I must ask you some questions, ma’am.”
“Yes,” she agreed, sitting.
Colton listened absently, feeling like he should leave, but not wanting to. He pecked at his keyboard, trying not to watch too closely.