Vanessa
Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows of Richard 's apartment, painting harsh lines on the expensive furniture. It felt a little too big.
As a Detective with the Los Angeles police department, Richard lived an almost luxurious life.
Yes, I am back with Richard, I thought I would stay true to my words and end things for good this time, especially after having that unforgettable passionate one night stand with a stranger, whom I am certain I will never see again.
For five days after our break up, despite my firm resolve, Richard 's persistent pleas and extravagant romantic gestures wore down my defenses once more. Paloma, though initially enraged, begrudgingly accepted my weakness for Richard , calling me a 'fool' for Richard .
He was off duty today, which happened to be a Saturday, so we will spend a lot of time together.
Taking a deep breath, I blurted it out.
"Paloma and I applied for waitressing jobs at the Carson Hotel."
Richard choked on his coffee, eyes widening comically. "Is that a joke?"
"No, really," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "We actually applied for a job at the hotel."
He set his mug down with a clatter. "Tell me the truth, Vanessa . Have your savings run out? Did your mom finally say no to sending money?"
I flinched at his bluntness, but there was no point in denying it. "You don't have to put it like that, but yes, I do need a source of income right now. My savings have definitely declined."
Richard ran a hand through his short black hair, his face a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "You know I can take care of you," he said quietly. "If you just let me, you don't have to work."
A surge of warmth mixed with a prickle of independence bubbled up inside me. "I appreciate the offer, Richard , but I do want to work. It's important to me."
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "So, how did the interview go?"
"It went well! We start next week, Monday. Actually, I'm kind of excited. It's not far from my apartment."
A frown creased his forehead. "So you'll be staying at your place more often?"
"Hey, wipe that frown off," I teased, stepping closer to him. "I'll still be switching back and forth like I always do. Nothing much will change."
He didn't seem convinced, but he did step closer too. "Are you sure?" he murmured, his gaze flickering to my lips.
Before I could answer, he closed the space between us with a kiss. It was familiar, comfortable, laced with a hint of desperation. I responded instinctively, the warmth a welcome distraction.
Pulling away, I tried to lighten the mood. "So, when's that funeral for your friend's dad again?"
"Oh right, almost forgot it's today," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "It starts at 11 am."
He leaned in again and planted a passionate kiss on my lips. I pulled away and said "It's 10 am already, we don't have time for that," I winked.
—
—
My jaw nearly hit the floor as Richard pulled up to a mansion that could rival Buckingham Palace. It wasn't just the sheer size, but the manicured lawns, the marble statues, the whole place reeked of obscene wealth. Here was Richard , who rarely splurged on anything fancier than a greasy burger, pulling up in his red Honda Civic like he owned the place. I couldn't help but wonder how he even knew someone who lived in a house like this.
Following him in a daze, we entered a vast sitting room that looked more like a grand hall. A somber presence filled the air, a woman, who looked like she could be in her (mid or early) sixties, dressed in black sat on a plush sofa, clutching a handkerchief. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the telltale signs of recent tears.
"Mrs. Carson ," Richard greeted her, his voice unusually formal.
As I pondered, I couldn't help but wonder if there was any connection between this woman and the hotel where I was soon to start working, or if their shared name was merely a chance occurrence. Surely, Richard would have mentioned any potential association before bringing me here, or so I presumed.
The woman perked up at the sound of his voice, a spark of life returning to her eyes. "Richard , dear, it's so good to see you. And you brought a friend?"
She looked me over with a critical eye, then a slow smile spread across her face. "Wow, Richard , she's stunning!"
Richard puffed out his chest, looking absurdly proud as if he were the one being complimented. I managed a polite smile.
"Thank you, ma'am," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush. I wanted to ask her about the hotel, but decided not to, to avoid ruining the moment.
"Call me Diane, dear," the woman said warmly. "Any friend of Richard 's is a friend of mine."
Her gaze lingered on me a bit too long, making me feel a strange undercurrent of curiosity emanating from her.
We chatted for a while about grief and loss, before she and Richard proceeded to indulge in small talk, mostly about his job, a melancholic air clinging to their conversation, while I soaked in the beauty of this mansion in awe.'
Just when I was starting to wonder if the evening would involve endless small talk, Richard gestured for me to follow him. Don't get me wrong, the old lady was nice but I wanted to explore the mansion before the funeral commenced.
Richard gestured for me to follow him, like he read my mind and knew that I wanted a tour of this mansion.
As we walked down a corridor, a voice drifted from a nearby room. A familiar voice, yet one I couldn't quite place.
'Richard pulled me to the room where the voice trailed from.
That's when I saw him. The bearer of the voice. Now I know why it sounded familiar.
I felt my intestines squeeze into my throat, my heart pounded faster than it has ever done.
It was the man from the bar, the charming stranger with the intoxicating smile. He stood there, looking equally surprised to see me.
"Vanessa ," Richard began, oblivious to my internal earthquake, "this is my friend Liam . Liam , this is my girlfriend, Vanessa ."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. I stood there frozen for a minute, I didn't know what to do.