Vanessa
The car ride home from the Carson mansion was a tense tango of silence. Richard stole glances at me, his discomfort a palpable weight in the confined space. I drummed my fingers against the leather seat, replaying the day's events in my head like a scratched record.
Finally, pulling into his apartment complex, I kicked off my pinching high heels with a sigh of relief and sat on the sofa. The silence shattered as Richard spoke, his voice laced with a desperate need for peace.
"Why are you so quiet this evening, Vanessa? Did I do something to offend you?"
I met his gaze, challenging. "You know exactly what you did, Richard."
He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Please, tell me what I did wrong."
"You practically shouted that I am a waitress from the rooftops at the funeral, in front of people who were amazed by me for a brief moment," I accused, the memory of hushed whispers and curious stares still fresh. "And also whenever someone recognizes me for my work, you get this… uncomfortable aura around you."
He frowned, a genuine confusion replacing the initial bewilderment. "I'm sorry, Vanessa. I truly didn't realize it affected you this way."
"Then why do you act that way? You did it at the mall last week and at the police station when dropped by… Why does it still bother you that I am an actress?" The question hung heavy in the air, a seed of doubt taking root in my heart.
"No, no, honey," he rushed out, shaking his head fervently. "That's not it at all. This is the first I'm hearing of it. I love that you're an actress, I love every part of you."
His words were quite soothing, erasing the doubt with a gentle touch. "Alright," I conceded, offering a hesitant smile. "Apologies accepted."
Richard seemed relieved, his smile mirroring mine as he sat down and pulled me close. "So, what did you think of the funeral and the Carsons?" he asked, a conversational thread to weave over the awkwardness.
"It was luxurious," I admitted, picturing the opulent arrangements and Mrs. Diane Carson's gracious demeanor. "Majestic, even. Karen seemed like a typical snobby rich girl.
And Mrs Diane seems like a very kind soul."
"Yes Karen is a snobby, unpleasant rich girl, who knows how to get under anyone's skin, and yes, Mrs Diane is a kind soul," he agreed, a hint of nostalgia tinged in his voice.
That was it. The question that had been gnawing at me since we arrived at the mansion. "How did you even know those people, Richard?"
He chuckled, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "Ah, I knew you'd be curious." A beat of silence followed, a pregnant pause before he continued. "Well, you see, I met them when they first moved to LA from London. Back then, they weren't billionaires yet. My father was their chauffeur and Mr. Carson's personal assistant. It was a difficult time for me… my mother had just passed away. I spent a lot of time with Carson's at their old residence. Mrs. Diane practically became a second mother, and I became close friends with Liam and Anna."
This explained the familiarity, the unspoken bond lurking beneath the surface. But a new question bloomed in my mind.
Richard rarely spoke about his parents. Although he mentioned his father was still around, I'd never met him despite them living in the same city. They must be estranged or something. It just occurred to me that this might explain why Richard reacted the way he did when Karen mistook him for a chauffeur.
Just then, his phone buzzed, and he answered, his expression turning serious as he listened silently to the voice on the other end. After hanging up, he turned to me, his face etched with worry.
"Honey," he said, his voice tight, "they need me at the station, right now. I have to go. I'll be back soon, okay."
Before I could protest or even ask what kind of emergency could pull him away at this late hour, he leaned in and planted a hurried kiss on my lips. Then, with a last fleeting glance, he was out the door, leaving me alone with his cryptic goodbye.
The second the door clicked shut behind Richard, I snatched my phone and practically flung myself onto the couch. My fingers flew across the screen, landing on Paloma's name. It rang once, twice, before her voice sliced through the tense silence of the apartment.
"Hey, girl! What's good?" Her usual bubbly energy buzzed through the receiver.
"Paloma," I breathed, the weight of the day pressing down on me. "You won't believe who I saw at the funeral today."
A beat of surprised silence followed. "Who?" Her voice was laced with curiosity, the playful banter momentarily forgotten.
"Liam!" I blurted out, finally letting the name escape my lips.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "What?! What was he doing there?"
Relief flooded me. Finally, someone who wouldn't judge. "That's just the start of it, girl," I said, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. "I have a whole lot to gist you, girl."
************
Richard
The fifteen-minute drive to Beverly Hills felt like an eternity, my stomach churning with a mix of apprehension and simmering anger. Pulling up to the imposing gates, I braced myself. The security guard, built like a linebacker and sporting a bored expression, scanned my car with practiced ease before the gate swung open. "Mr. Tucci, you can go right in. The boss has been waiting."
I didn't reply, just gripped the steering wheel tighter as the gate swung open. Parking by the opulent mansion, I took a deep breath before knocking on the massive oak door. A throaty, feminine voice drifted from within.
"Take off your shoes and come right in, Richard. The door is open."
I complied, leaving my shoes outside and stepping into a scene straight out of a luxury magazine. The air hung heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and polished mahogany. In the center of the room, the owner of the voice was a vision in a flowing designer gown, cradled a crystal glass. A smirk played on her lips, I just knew there and then whatever she was about to ask of me would be unpleasant.
"Quite a show you put on today," she drawled, swirling the liquid in her glass. "Everyone truly believed we were sworn enemies."
"It required a little acting, since I really don't like you," I countered, forcing my voice to remain steady.
Her smile broadened, with a hint of predatory amusement. "Damn! You were almost convincing. Maybe you should consider quitting your job as a cop and become an actor, who knows you might just outdo your girlfriend."
I ignored the jab, my patience fraying. "What do you want, Karen? And why aren't you by your husband's side tonight?"