At five-thirty in the morning Kristine was wide awake. Yet with only two hours of restless sleep, she was up and raring to go before the sun even had a chance to fully rise and glow through the small windows of her home, a small guest house that was part of a larger home near her school.
\n\nWhile she knew she should try to sleep, force herself to close her eyes and get any semblance of rest, impossible because Erik De Anton played on an endless loop in her mind.
\n\n
\n\nAfter they left the tea house, they returned to her car and drove in their own respective silence back to the university. With a simple finger points, he led her around back of the library to the administrator lot where a gleaming black Italian sports car was parked taking up three different spots.
\n\n
\n\nSince this beauty was the only car in sight, she sank deeper into her seat at having toted around the famed architect in her disaster of a vehicle, and she was quite certain her car was also dismayed. At least the sounds her car made sounded like a cry for help.
\n\n
\n\nHe opened the door and right before she thought he was about ready to leave without mentioning their deal, he turned to her.
\n\n
\n\nHis expression and how his green gold eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkened car she gasped.
\n\n
\n\n“Nine-thirty.” He handed her a card and, without another word, left.
\n\n
\n\nShe drove away first, and he followed her until they both went their separate ways at the main street.
\n\n
\n\nOnly when she returned home did she finally look at what he handed her. The fine white linen engraved card only said his name in raised silver letters with no other information.
\n\n
\n\nHer stomach fell, her heart clenched. The man had tricked her. How would she find him? This whole thing was nothing but a joke. In her panic, she dropped the card and it fluttered to the floor face down.
\n\n
\n\nOnly then did she find the written message he left her.
\n\n
\n\nK
\n\n665 Chandelier Lane
\n\nE
\n\n
\n\nWhen did he write this? Why did he agree to their deal? He clearly didn’t want to be bothered, he was definitely annoyed by her, and yet he agreed to let her work for him, and to tutor her. Why did he wear a mask?
\n\n
\n\nWhy?
\n\n
\n\nThese were the questions that plagued her all night.
\n\n
\n\nThose questions and those green gold eyes.
\n\n
\n\nFinally, at five-thirty in the morning she couldn’t stand trying to sleep anymore and got up. The actual act of throwing her sheets aside freed her.
\n\nThe only issue now—she had four hours to fill but by her calculation, the drive to 665 Chandelier Lane would only take about fifteen minutes tops.
\n\nThere were times when minutes took hours and times where hours took seconds. Today, Kristine was definitely plagued with the former.
\n\n
\n\nWith the estate’s owners out of town as usual, she did her job of checking the grounds, then returned to her little place and took her time getting ready.
\n\nAll in all by the time she finished her chores, took a shower, made and drank two cups of coffee, styled her hair, put on her makeup, and collected her books, it was now six-fifteen. Basically, she was screwed.
\n\n
\n\nUnable to sit still or even think about anything except getting to her job, she grabbed her items got in her car and took off.
\n\n
\n\nThough she took it slowly, somehow she managed to catch every green light and didn’t even have morning traffic to delay her this early.
\n\n
\n\nBefore she turned into the more exclusive part of town known for its large homes on large lots, she glanced at the time. Exactly fifteen minutes had passed.
\n\n
\n\nShe stopped her car and pursed her lips. Most likely showing up three hours early would be frowned upon. He and his family had to still be asleep or were just waking up to start the day.
\n\n
\n\nAt her thought, she tightened her grip on her steering wheel.
\n\n
\n\nHis family.
\n\n
\n\nIn all her myriad thoughts about one Erik De Anton, never once did she think about his family or the possibility of a family. As this new image entered her mind, she tried to remember if he wore a ring or not. All she could see were those green gold eyes.
\n\n
\n\nA sick lump forming in her throat, she inhaled and shook her head.
\n\n
\n\nNot that him having a family mattered, but somehow it did. Yesterday, when he chastised her for getting in a car with a strange man, perhaps he should have thought about the fact he was in a car with a woman he didn’t know either. If she were someone’s wife, she certainly wouldn’t care for her husband going off with another woman one bit.
\n\n
\n\nNow she was supposed to work there?
\n\n
\n\nWhile visions of a beautiful woman getting her beautiful children ready for their beautiful day in their beautiful house swirled around in her head, she decided not to interrupt the beautiful situation and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street.
\n\n
\n\nThe easy thing to do would be to go homeand simply ghost the man who spent the evening practically flirting with her. Well, if she could call being strange, passive aggressive and walking away from her flirting.
\n\n
\n\nStill, she wouldn’t go easy on him, and again she stopped her car.
\n\n
\n\nWhat she needed was advice. She reached into her bag, pulled out her cell phone, and then shoved it back inside. Her best friend and basically her sister, Meg, wasn’t around, hadn’t been for weeks, and somehow Kristine couldn’t get used to the fact that the one friend she had was not a phone call away. Apparently, along with not knowing what proper flirting was, she also needed a social life.
\n\n
\n\nShe began the age-old ritual of driving around aimlessly. Yes, she could just go back home, but the thought of sitting in her small house waiting to leave seemed too confining, especially since she was all ready.
\n\n
\n\nHer thoughts all over the place, she drove through a coffee house, treating herself to one large iced coffee, and continued her excursion. She pondered not only all the various the drive-throughs the city had to offer, but played a game with herself where she didn’t look at the time.
\n\n
\n\nOne more coffee at a different drive-through later, she decided she didn’t care what time it was, she was going to go to Mr. De Anton’s and be early, or his version of early. By her calculations, a normal work day should start around eight, and a quick look at the time told her it was now seven-forty. Close enough for her.
\n\n
\n\nStrength of conviction coursing through her, she traveled up the hilly pass where homes became more elegant and upscale until she found herself in front of the house of De Anton.
\n\n
\n\nAs she drove up the driveway, she took in his home.
\n\n
\n\nSet far back on the wide expanse of perfectly manicured lawn stood a prime example of 1920s California decadence at its best.
\n\n
\n\nThe multi-story white structure with intricate railings and elegant awnings, and perfect finishes was like watching an article from an architectural magazine come to life. She could only guess what the home would be like on the inside.
\n\n
\n\nShe stopped her car on the circular driveway and gave her car a pat. Neither of them belonged here, and she only needed to stay long enough to tell Mr. De Anton, his wife, two children and dog this fact.
\n\n
\n\nWith a huff and a nod, she got out of her car, slammed her door, felt bad for slamming the door, and then stomped to the front door.
\n\n
\n\nThen it hit her that it was seven-forty, maybe seven-forty-two now, and she had arrived nearly two hours early. Was she insane? How could she show up like this and retain any credibility? She balled her fist, hit her thigh, and turned back around.
\n\n
\n\nThis was it? She was going to let him win? What he wanted was for her to show up at nine-thirty on the dot like a compliant little architect.
\n\n
\n\nNo sooner did she make it back to her car than she stopped, spun back toward the grand home, and repeated her steps back to the door.
\n\n
\n\nShe glanced at the little old-fashioned button for the doorbell. With such an amazing house, a family and obviously major paranoia issues, Mr. De Anton she thought he would have had some doorbell camera or something. Then she remembered his dislike of computers. The man’s alarm clock probably was a wind up with an actual bell on top like in cartoons.
\n\n
\n\nBefore pressing the button, she bent down and studied the doorbell. Perhaps there wasn’t some high tech viewing device because this little piece of hardware was actually vintage and matched the house. The metal button was actually surrounded by fancy, gleaming art deco metal work.
\n\n
\n\nSomething an architect like Erik De Anton would notice.
\n\n
\n\nSomething she needed to be aware of at all times.
\n\n
\n\nShe wanted him to teach her. She needed him to teach her.
\n\n
\n\nBut she was showing up way too early for her own good.
\n\n
\n\nOnly one choice. She had to go.
\n\n
\n\nIn a repeat from earlier, she returned to her car, this time actually getting inside, and turning on the ignition.
\n\n
\n\nThen three things hit her, all equally bad, and all at the same time.
\n\n
\n\nFirst, she had to pee. Like right now. Almost as if someone or something filled her bladder with a hose, or more likely like someone drank way too much coffee and then drove around.
\n\n
\n\nSecond, she had to pee. All right that was the first thing too, but she did need to note that the ride out of this upper crust neighborhood wasn’t exactly rife with places to stop for a rest break.
\n\n
\n\nHowever, third only to the first and second, was the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, someone saw her roaming around the front of the house and studying a doorbell, and then see her drive away like a person who was even crazier than someone who showed up over two hours early for a job her boss didn’t want to give her.
\n\n
\n\nOh yeah, and she had to pee.
\n\n
\n\nEvery passing second only netted her a bladder that might burst, and a twist in her stomach that she was in this situation in the first place.
\n\nShe pounded her fist on the steering wheel and again got out of her car. Unless she was going to pop a squat in one of the pristine bushes on the side of his house, she had no choice but to return to the front door.
\n\n
\n\nRight as she went to ring the vintage doorbell that didn’t seem as magical as it did earlier, before her bladder betrayed her, the door opened. Her heart seized, and with a gasp, she jumped back, expecting to find either a mad maid or an irate wife with her hands on her hips wondering what the hell she was doing there.
\n\n
\n\nLike everything that had happened to her since she met, followed, and basically stalked the architect, nothing was what she thought.
\n\nA man, and not just any run-of-the-mill man stood in the doorway. Tall, with blond hair that hit his shoulders, and vibrant blue eyes, this man leaned on the doorjamb with a smirk.
\n\n
\n\nOn automatic, Kristine put her hand over her mouth. She had never seen anyone who looked like him, at least in person. The man was stock-photo gorgeous.
\n\n
\n\n“I didn’t mean to startle you.” As he spoke, his smile widened, and a dimple appeared on his right cheek. A picture perfect punctuation on a picture perfect face.
\n\n
\n\n“I–” She really didn’t have anything to say. The only benefit of being surprised was that for one moment she forgot how badly she had to pee. Then again, now that she thought about it, the sensation came back full force, and worse than before.
\n\n
\n\n“I had a feeling you would show up early.” He spoke as if she wasn’t making a complete fool of herself.
\n\n
\n\nAll she could do was stare at the man, that and press her legs together, praying she didn’t have an accident right here right now.
\n\n
\n\n“Ms. Davis, you have a lot to do today, so why don’t you come on in.” He backed up and motioned for her to come inside.
\n\n
\n\nNot wanting to make anything worse, she followed him. No sooner did she step over the threshold onto a smooth and gleaming dark wood floor than he stopped and crossed his arms.
\n\n
\n\nShe nearly tripped, skidded to a halt and glanced up at him.
\n\n
\n\nHis gaze traveled over her. “Has anyone ever told you not to follow a strange man into a home you have never been in before?”
\n\n
\n\nAt his question, she huffed. “Only yesterday I was told not to bring strange men into my car.”
\n\n
\n\nA smile took over his face, but honestly it appeared more as if he were striking a pose. “Yet here we are.” He held his hand out. “Trevor, Erik’s personal assistant.”
\n\n
\n\nSince the man already knew her, there was no point introducing herself. Instead, she put her hand in his. “Now you’re not a stranger.”
\n\n
\n\nAs they shook hands, she glanced around. The inside of the home was even more pristine than the outside and true to its period. Real plaster walls boasted impressive paintings, large wooden beams contrasted with the high ceiling, while every piece of furniture from the sofas to knick-knacks on the side tables was purposely thought out.
\n\n
\n\nThe place didn’t seem real, more like a staged home from one of those home improvement shows that always made Kristine feel bad about her own living conditions. Of course, her home had a bathroom, one she could make use of right now if she was there where she should be.
\n\n
\n\nIn the quick scan of her surroundings, she did notice there were no mirrors anywhere and there were absolutely no pictures. Interesting. It also wasn’t lost on her that there was no Mr. De Anton or anyone else who lived here except for this personal assistant. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and though it was probably bad form to simply ask for the rest room, she was going to just go for it when Trevor spoke again.
\n\n
\n\n“Let’s get started.” Trevor let go of her hand.
\n\n
\n\nStill taking in everything, she followed this man through an equally amazing dining room with a crystal chandelier that rivaled the great old movies of Hollywood, and right into a kitchen fit for any guest chef to make mouthwatering morsels for a smart dinner party.
\n\n
\n\nHere, the juxtaposition between old and new came together with oversized stainless steel appliances against period tile work and cabinets.
\n\nIt was wonderful.
\n\n
\n\n“Coffee?” Trevor kept his back toward her as he poured himself a cup from a silver pot.
\n\n
\n\nAt the mention of coffee or any liquid whatsoever, Kristine’s stomach churned and her bladder screamed. “No thank you.” She opened her mouth to ask for the bathroom, when suddenly Trevor turned.
\n\n
\n\n“Then let’s get started.” His cup in hand, he motioned toward the breakfast nook table. “We need to get this done fast.”
\n\n
\n\nWith no choice, she sat down and crossed her legs tightly to keep everything in. As soon as there was any lull in the conversation, she would ask for the bathroom, but right now she was stuck. Again, she glanced around in search of Mr. De Anton.
\n\n
\n\nTrevor sat across from her, took a sip of his drink, and pulled a folded paper out of his shirt pocket. “Let’s see here.”
\n\n
\n\nWhile he took his time unfolding the paper and tilting his head from side to side as he read it, she decided this quick break in the action may be the perfect time for her break. Then again, what if Mr. De Anton arrived when she was in the bathroom? The image of her coming out from relieving herself, her hands still damp after washing them, and seeing him only made her squirm in her seat.
\n\n
\n\nHer opportunity faded when Trevor spoke.
\n\n
\n\n“All right.” He rubbed the bit of stubble on his chin. “Erik has some plans for you to review for your first model, and this is for buying whatever supplies you need.” He tossed a wad of cash at her.
\n\n
\n\nKristine furrowed her brow. Cash and plans? Where was he? Why wasn’t he here directing her? Also, what about his end of the deal?
\n\n
\n\nShe couldn’t get one of the questions out before Trevor continued. “Erik said you should know what to do. I’ll get you the plans.” Trevor folded the paper and stood.
\n\n
\n\nHold on one second. Was she being dismissed? What about his end of the bargain? She sat up straighter and finally managed to speak. “Excuse me.”
\n\n“Oh!” Trevor held up one finger telling her to wait. “For your homework tonight, go to this address.” He tossed a card near the money. “That will be all for today.”
\n\n
\n\n“That’s it?” What the hell was this?
\n\n
\n\n“Well, that’s it, except for don’t let any strange men into your car or walk into any strange places.” He chuckled and began to walk away.
\n\n
\n\nShe shook her head. All this preparation, the driving the back and forth, and this was all? Where was Mr. De Anton? “Seriously?” She spoke mostly to herself.
\n\n
\n\n“There is one more thing.” Trevor faced her. “Probably what you’ve been waiting for this whole time.”
\n\n
\n\nShe half expected this man to produce Mr. De Anton out of thin air, and she waited.
\n\n
\n\n“While I get the plans, the bathroom is the down the hall, third door on the left.” Finally, he left.
\n\n
\n\nWith her release at last in sight, she stood wondering how he knew, what she was doing here, and most importantly where was Mr. De Anton? Why was she pawned off on an assistant when he was the one who should be dealing with her? Also, when would see him again?
\n\n
\n\nDon't forget to tell me what you think, and if you want to get your chapters sent directly to your inbox, sign up for my newsletter! Links below!
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