Page 20 of Accidental Orc Daddy

I can't help but smile as she totters out. Slipping from the bed, I make my way to the en-suite bathroom she mentioned. Pushing open the door, I'm met with gleaming marble and gold accents worthy of royalty. The massive glassed-in shower looks like it could fit ten people. Turning on the water, I'm enveloped by the sheer bliss of the multiple shower heads. It's the most luxurious shower I've ever experienced.

After the most indulgent shower of my life, I emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a plush robe that engulfs me in softness. I make my way back to the bedroom where I find a lavish breakfast spread waiting on a rolling cart by the bed.

Mustaf is still fast asleep, so I carefully lift the domed silver lid from the breakfast tray, releasing an aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sweet baked goods that make my mouth water. Nestled in a linen napkin is a still-warm cheese Danish oozing with cherry compote. I lift it to my lips, the crust flaky and buttery on my tongue, the sweet-tart cherries providing the perfect counterpoint. Crispy bacon and sausage links sizzle invitingly next to a stack of light, fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup. There are also jars of fruit compotes in summery flavors like peach, apricot, and mixed berry.

I savor a few slices of bacon, the salty smokiness a perfect complement to the pastries. There's an assortment of fresh fruit - ruby red strawberries, juicy wedges of melon, pineapple chunks dusted with cinnamon. Taking my time, I create a plate pairing each item thoughtfully - pancakes with fruit compote, sausage links nestled alongside flakey croissants.

As I nibble, I glance over at Mustaf, his broad chest rising and falling rhythmically. The sheets are draped low on his waist, exposing chiseled muscles that hint at last night's passionate exertions.

I pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe, breathing in the rich, earthy aroma before taking a sip. The bold flavor dances across my tongue as I help myself to a scone bursting with juicy berries. With each luxurious bite, I feel myself relax into the plush robe enveloping me.

Turning on the large flatscreen TV, I keep the volume low so as not to wake Mustaf. The combination of excellent food and his comforting presence eases any lingering tension within me. I take my time indulging in the lavish breakfast spread, allowing myself to simply be in this moment.

As I nibble and sip my coffee, I glance at my phone lighting up with notifications. I had silenced it earlier, but now I feel a pang of guilt. My friends must be worried.

Picking up my phone, I see multiple missed calls and texts from Sandra and the others, wondering where I am. Scrolling through, I come across the voicemail from my mother. As I bring my phone to my ear to listen, my breath hitches in my throat. It’s my mother's shaking voice saying my grandmother has taken a turn for the worse.

The idyllic cocoon I've been lingering in shatters as reality comes crashing down. My chest tightens as I soak in the urgency in my mother's tone and her barely contained panic. I have to get back right away.

My earlier indecision vanishes in the face of family duty. As much as I want to linger here with Mustaf, my grandmother needs me. I tap out a quick text to my friends that I'm safe, explaining the situation with my grandma, and ask them to meet me at Mustaf’s villa. It's time to go.

Quietly padding across the ornate Persian rug, I gather up my clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.

Scribbling a brief note that doesn’t capture half of what I want to say, I place it on the nightstand, a whisper of farewell uttered from my lips complemented by the kiss imparted on his.

I crack open the imposing wood door, peering out into the long hallway lined with antique tapestries and priceless artwork. The coast is clear. I slip out, my footsteps muffled on the lush carpet runner. It's hard to believe last night actually happened.

Making my way hurriedly down the grand staircase, I breathe a sigh of relief that I don't encounter the quirky maid or any other staff. Thankfully, I manage to make it out without any run-ins. Just a few minutes later, the girls arrive, suitcases in tow.

As I greet them, I spot Mustaf’s driver on the way in. On impulse, I tell him we need the car, and he gets ready to escort us without a word or another question.

Together with Sandra, Maica, and Lalaine, I climb hurriedly into the waiting town car. As soon as the door slams shut, we collapse against the plush leather seats, feeling the shock of this abrupt turn of events.

"Your grandma… Is it really bad?" Sandra asks gently, her eyes full of concern.

I nod, a lump rising in my throat as I explain the voicemail from my mom. Maica grips my hand in silent solidarity.

"We'll get you home, don't worry," Lalaine assures me.

I manage a weak smile, beyond grateful for their support. We sit in contemplative silence for a few moments before Maica speaks up hesitantly.

"So… about last night..." She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Despite everything, I can't help blushing, the memories of Mustaf's passionate embrace flooding back. My friends erupt in excited questions, momentarily distracted from the somber circumstances.

As we race toward the airport, I find myself confiding in hushed tones about my night with Mustaf, his tenderness, his magnetism. My friends listen, eyes wide and hanging on every whispered detail. It was an escape to a fantasy world, one now receding rapidly behind us.

But our laughter and gossip can't change the grim reality awaiting me at home. As the airport comes into view, the gravity of it all settles back over me. My heart is heavy with hope and regret as we hurry to catch the next flight out.

Finally, we pull up to the airport departure drop-off, the driver stopping for just long enough for us to hurriedly exit the car.

"Thank you so much!" I call out breathlessly before slamming the door shut.

The driver smiles and gives a little wave, seeming unperturbed by our rushed exit. My friends and I scramble to grab our bags from the trunk and then take off running towards the terminal entrance. We weave urgently through crowds of leisurely travelers, focused only on getting tickets and reaching our gate as fast as possible.

"What time does it leave?" Sandra pants, struggling to keep up with her roller bag bouncing over the slick floor.

I check my phone, my heart sinking. "Twenty minutes. We have to move!"

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