Frank drives onto the highway, but almost immediately has to slow down, because of the traffick.

Just perfect.

"Frank?"

He makes eye contact in the driving mirror as a sign that I have his attention.

"Where did you grow up?"

For a second, he furrows his dark eyebrows in confusion. Then, he answers. "I grew up in various places."

"What kind of places?" I immediately fire away.

His look shifts from the rearview mirror to the traffic surrounding us and then back to the rearview mirror. He's silent for almost a whole minute and when I think he's just going to ignore my question, he answers. "I was born in Venice, Italy, but my parents lived in Saint-Petersburg in Russia. We moved to Hong Kong when I was seven and stayed there for five years. When I was twelve, we moved to Berlin and I've lived there until I became eighteen."

The car in front of us slowly starts driving again, after being forced to stand still for some time. Frank follows.

For a moment, I hesitate to ask him more questions. He sounds quite emotionless and I'm not sure why. I'm too curious though, and I wonder how much he will tell me before putting up an emotional blockade again. "How was it, having to move around all the time?"

Frank lightly shrugs his shoulders and he stoically looks around. "It was difficult in the beginning. I was forced to adjust to a new place, different kinds of people and cultures. In the end, I've always learned some valuable things."

I wonder what he means by 'valuable things', but I've got so many more questions to ask.

"How is your family like? Do you have any siblings?"

The highway is finally free again and Frank starts accelerating. "I have two brothers."

I'm not sure, but he seems to be driving faster than the allowed speed limit.

"How come you're suddenly so interested?"

Oh, is he tensed?

"I just want to get to know you a bit better, that's all. It's only fair, to be honest, as you seem to know everything about me."

I said it with a tone dripping of sarcasm before I could stop myself. I look outside when Frank turns off at the exit.

"But then again, you're supposed to know a thing or two about me. After all, I'm 'the job'." I quietly said it in a sorrowful way, but the echoes resonate like church bells in my head.

Silence fills the car, but this time, I'm beginning to mind the tension brought along with it. I am so painfully aware of Frank's presence and the fact I can't escape it for the next few minutes, that I don't dare to look in front of me, afraid I might make eye contact. Instead, I stubbornly force myself to look outside, where the trees rush by.

Maybe I shouldn't have said all of that.

I look at my hands.

I wasn't even aware that it bothered me that much, him being what my dad pays him to be. After what we've been through, he can't just be my bodyguard. But if I meant something more to him, he surely would try to open up, wouldn't he?

I cast a look at my knees and suddenly, the painful sensation of embarrassment rises to my head. Red blushes color my cheeks.

What am I even thinking about? Do I really expect something from him because of the things that have happened?

Before I can stop myself, I unintentionally take a look in the rearview mirror and can't avoid making straight eye contact with him.

Dammit, my cheeks become even more red.

I look away.

Have I become this typical girly character who fell in love with the prince that saved her from the greatest of dangers?

Outside, I recognise the street I live in. It won't be long before this uncomfortable drive will end.

It was, literally, his job to save me, Giselle.

I sigh internally.

Have I really let myself become a stereotype Disney princess with a pathetic crush?

I cover my face with my hands.

I'm such an idiot.

After what seems to have taken hours, we finally arrive at my house. I can't get out of the car quickly enough and I take a sprint to the front door. To my confusion, it is locked. My dad's supposed to be home every Thursday afternoon. Why did he lock the front door?

I can't spot my dad's car anywhere near and I notice Frank walking into my direction, holding the keys to the front door up in the air. His pace, as calm as usually, makes me nervous. As usually.

"You're dad is working late today." He explains.

I move aside so he can unlock the door. A strange feeling emerges in my chest. At first, I think it's a sign something physically may be wrong with me, but I quickly realise it's because of Frank.

We're both standing before my front door, only inches away from each other. It's a stupid observation of me, but I'm almost entirely sure he hasn't come this close to me since I was in the hospital.

My height would normally let me raise pass his shoulders, but I don't quite feel like standing straight right now. Instead, I lean on one hip with my arms crossed and look at my shoes.

Can this day become even more chaotic?

Frank puts the key in its lock, but he hesitates before turning it.

I am so uncomfortably aware of his presence and even more on how it makes me feel, that I keep staring down, hoping my cheeks won't turn too red. Why doesn't he just unlock the damn door already?

He takes a deep breath and I can see his chest growing and shrinking out of the corner of my eye. "You're right,'' He says, and I'm immediately taking by the intensity of his voice, speaking to me from such a close distance. ''it's not fair."

He turns the key, but doesn't open the door.

Frank's probably talking about what I said in the car. I know I shouldn't have said that. I may expose Lucas. Well, maybe I should tell Frank about Lucas. Police are looking for him, he's going to get caught eventually. But I don't think I can tell anyone anything that will lead to his arrest. I cannot possibly withhold this kind of information though. I do want to keep this to myself a bit longer. I don't know why, but I have to, just for awhile. Maybe Lucas will show up again and I can somehow persuade him to give himself over to the police.

Suddenly, a strong squall blows against my back and I waver a bit to the front, almost bumping into Frank. I jump out of my thoughts, back into reality. My heart beats strongly in my chest, like I was sitting on a chair and leaned too much to the back, almost falling, but saving myself just in time.

I just need to be away for a second, from this and from him.

I grab the door handle and pull it down. While swinging open the door, I say to him: "Don't worry about it." I step into my home and without looking back I say: "Just let it go."

I almost reach the stairs when a hand tightens around my wrist and I'm compelled to stand still. His grip then loosens and Frank slides his fingers around my hand.

I turn around, looking straight at him, at a face with a softening expression.

"I don't know what's going on, and you don't necessarily have to tell me." His voice sounds soft and sweet. "But I can't..." He pauses. "... work like this."

What does he mean by that? Is he going to quit?

I'm not sure what to say, with the exception off "Okay.".

Frank is still holding my hand in his and it makes me less uncomfortable than I expected it to be.

It's even... calming.

"Let's do something fun together."

I tilt my head a little, not sure if he's being sincere. "You want to do something fun?" I pause. "Together?"

I'm in discord with myself, weighing the thought whether he's serious or not. He probably understands my confusion about the nature of the request, especially as it's coming from him.

That's why he doesn't break eye contact, letting me know he's serious.

The first thought that comes to my mind is: no, thank you. There is too much going on, and I need some time to sort things out. Though I surprise myself when I suppress this instinctive urge to decline and think about the other possibility. What if we would just hang out? Would that make me feel so bad?

I hesitate.

I would be lying if I claimed that I didn't enjoy most of the time I spend with Frank. "Tell me, what's your version of having fun?"

He smiled calmly.

He smiled.

"There isn't much I can offer. Unfortunately, your dad has given me instructions to keep you home today. We can't go out, but what about making some dinner?"

I wanted to ask him why my dad didn't want me out of house, but Frank continued talking before I could.

"We'll put some music on and I can tell you all about the places I have lived at."

I must admit, I am curious.

But I'm not fooling myself,

he already had me at that smile.