Her heart hammered in her chest as the pieces fell into place.
She could almost hear her own voice from the past, slurred and confident, as she pointed at Jefferson and declared to her friends, "He's the one I'll go for."
The recollection was vivid now: her stumbling towards Jefferson's private balcony, the shock on his face, and the way she had laughed off his refusal, turning it into a joke to save face in front of her friends.
She had dismissed him as a prudish man, a virgin, and left him there, humiliated in the eyes of his friends or whatever.
Sitting there on the cold bathroom floor, Rita's earlier assumptions about Jefferson crumbled.
He wasn't the man she had thought he was; he was the man from her past. And now, here they were, their lives entangled in a way she never could have predicted!
However, unbeknownst to Jefferson, the repercussions of that fateful night at the club had rippled through Rita's life in ways he couldn't have imagined.
After she had stormed off his balcony, her night had taken a turn for the worse.
Her 'friends,' who were more interested in her wealth than her well-being, were not about to let her off the hook for bailing on the dare.
They insisted that she face the consequences—a hefty penalty for not sealing the kiss.
They demanded she cover everyone's tabs at the club, a punishment steeped in extravagance and excess.
Rita, too inebriated to care, had recklessly agreed.
She threw down her credit card, spending nearly all her savings in one fell swoop, an act of defiance fueled by alcohol and the desire to prove something to her fair-weather friends.
The following day brought a sobering reality.
Her family, already at odds with her wild lifestyle, presented her with an ultimatum: marry a man named Robert, whom she detested, or find herself without financial support.
Stubborn and defiant, Rita chose to walk away, leaving behind the luxury and security of the Ross household.
Suddenly penniless and with nowhere to turn, Rita reached out to her circle of friends, the same ones who had reveled in her downfall the night before.
One by one, they turned their backs on her, their camaraderie with her dissolving as quickly as her bank account.
All except for one—Ester.
She was the only one who offered a helping hand in Rita's hour of need, a gesture that Rita would not soon forget.
Rita let out a heavy sigh, her mind finally piecing together the tangled web of the past and present.
She turned on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her, hoping it would wash away the tension and confusion.
As she stood there, the steam enveloping her, she coached herself, "Okay, Rita, just say sorry for the whole mix-up before. Ask for his forgiveness. And, hey, he was the one coming on strong earlier, so we're even, right? You've got this. Just keep it cool and talk it out."
She rehearsed the conversation in her head, trying to steady her racing heart.
After taking a few deep breaths, she turned off the shower, dried herself off, and got dressed.
Feeling somewhat prepared for the impending discussion, she stepped out of the bathroom, her heart still thumping in her chest.
But the room was silent, and Jefferson was gone. She looked around, a mix of confusion and relief washing over her. "Where'd he go? Eh, he's got a million places to be with all that money. He can do whatever he wants, and frankly, I'm glad for the space!" she muttered to herself, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders at the prospect of not having to confront the awkwardness head-on.
Rita mumbled to herself as she made her way to the bedroom, still feeling the aftershocks of the evening's rollercoaster of emotions. "I hope I don't run into him anytime soon. If I do, I dunno if I'll be as ready as I think I am right now."
She was trying to convince herself that she had everything under control, but the truth was, she was still reeling.
She crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, and that's when she caught a whiff of Jefferson's cologne lingering on the pillow.
The scent brought back a rush of memories from just hours before—their closeness, the intensity in his eyes, and the heat of his touch. Despite the confusion and the chaos, she felt her cheeks warming at the thought of their encounter.
"Ugh, why am I even thinking about this?" she scolded herself, but the blush that had crept onto her face was undeniable.
She turned over in bed, trying to shake off the memories and the scent that seemed to envelop her, willing herself to focus on the calm and solitude of the moment.
But as she closed her eyes, the echo of the night's events played on a loop in her mind, making sleep a challenge.
---
Meanwhile, Jefferson had made a beeline to one of his other properties as soon as Rita locked herself in the bathroom.
The sound of the door locking behind her had snapped him back to reality.
Alone with his thoughts, he was suddenly struck with the gravity of his actions.
"What was I just doing to Rita? Was I...was that almost... No, I can't be that guy," he chastised himself, disgust and regret swirling within him.
"What a complete jerk move," he thought, disgusted with how he had lost control.
Jefferson retreated to the sanctuary of his other villa, a place where he could be alone with his tumultuous thoughts.
He grabbed a bottle from his extensive collection and poured himself a generous glass of wine, seeking the solace that only a quiet night and a good drink could offer.
As he sipped the wine, his mind wandered back to Rita. He had to admit, his feelings toward her were complicated.
"Yes, I truly hated her for humiliating me years ago, but..."
"But later, she even paid off my clients' wine bills that night! It cost more than 1 million!"
Jefferson mused aloud at his private bar, a wry chuckle escaping him as he thought back on Rita's antics.
"A million bucks! That Rita, she's so...unique"
He shook his head in disbelief, the laughter bubbling up from his memory of her audacity.
Then, his smile faded into a contemplative silence.
"If we were back three years, I'd have wooed her without a second thought. But now..."
Now, as her husband, he saw a different side of her, one that had seemingly erased all the bitterness he once felt.
She had changed, and in turn, so had his feelings.
But the events of tonight had thrown him into a state of confusion.
He had intended only to frighten her a bit, to regain some control after feeling slighted.
Yet, as he got close to her, he realized it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his own desires in check.
"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself, the wine glass paused at his lips.