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Chapter 10
Quintessa
His house is gated– I would not have expected anything less – but he must’ve left the gate open for me because I didn’t need to press the intercom button to get in. And wow! I’m blown away. It’s overwhelming for somebody like me to be on a property like this. I’m not used to the luxurious nature of his lifestyle. Shoot, to be honest, I thought I would get pulled over in this neighborhood driving what I’m driving. Ain’t nothing but foreign cars around here. Even the air smells like money.
I look at the massive house sitting on acres upon acres of gulf front property. The house is immaculate, and that’s just from what I can see on the outside. Upon driving further up the cobblestone driveway, I see Essex standing at the top of the stairs that lead to the front porch of his home, and I’m in awe all over again. He has on a gray button-down, faded blue distressed jeans and a pair of gray, leather Oxfords. He looks super-relaxed and so fine, I can’t take my eyes off him. Greeted by his signature cologne as I approach, I can see that he’s been to the barber – or maybe they come to him. Whatever the case, his beard is freshly groomed and edged up. So is that beautiful black, semi-coily hair of his.
The man isfoine. It ought to be a crime for somebody this handsome to be wandering the streets, making people have car accidents and whatnot. Making married women forget they said vows. What else I find fascinating is, his looks didn’t hit me this hard in the beginning when I only looked at him as being a jerk. Now that I know he doesn’t have an icebox for a heart, I see him in a whole new light – and the light keeps on getting brighter, especially when he smiles, flashing those white teeth that draw my eyes to his mouth, the mustache, the beard. The lips. Oh, those lips.
Lord, somebody help me. I should’ve stayed home.
When I make it up the porch, he says, “You made it,” with a stoic expression on his face, making it difficult for me to read his mood.
“Yeah. I made it. I didn’t know I had to climb Everest when I arrived.”
“There aren’t that many stairs.” As a matter of fact, I probably should’ve come down to greet you. I want to show you around.” He takes my hand and we head back down the stairs.
“Oh. Okay.”
When we reach the bottom, I try to pull my hand away from his, but he squeezes it tighter, preventing me from doing so. I pinch my lips in a smile and proceed with him.
Essex inputs a code on the gate that leads to the backyard. A deep intake of breath isn’t enough to help me grasp the beauty of this place. This estate is like something out of a movie. Turquoise coastal waters stretch as far as the eyes can see – reminds me of my accent wall and this is pretty much his backyard or front yard depending on your you view it. He tells me he owns seventy feet of beach that affords him the ultimate privacy. Two pools are just as exquisite with their blue, undisturbed, pristine waters. One of them is heated. The hot tub is foaming with bubbles, even though there’s no one in it. It’s big enough to hold twelve adults – maybe even more. If all of that won’t lure you to this property, the palm trees, exotic flowers and lush green grass will. The outdoor grill area looks like its own kitchen with stone countertops, barstools and a mini-fridge nearby. His personal chef is currently cooking a meal on the grill and I don’t know what it is, but it’s so mouthwatering, it has my stomach growling.
This estate is a paradise.
He takes me to the four-car garage that houses the white Benz he drives frequently, the red Ferrari Roma, a Bentley Continental and a royal blue McLaren P1. All the cars are clean and shiny as I imagined they were on the day he purchased them.
He saves the inside tour of the house for last. I can’t wrap my mind around the elegance: the chandeliers, the high-end furniture and tiled and hardwood floors, rugs that look like they cost a fortune. Appliances that are top of the line – stuff ordinary people can’t walk into a store and buy. There are seven bedrooms in this house –seven!– and every single one of them looks like they’ve never been used – even his.
And now, we’re back downstairs standing near a breakfast bar that looks like it could be a small restaurant in Paris. Stainless steel pots and pans hang over a large island. The pantry looks about the average size of a guest bedroom and it’s fully stocked. This home is truly exquisite. I’m beyond impressed. I’m flabbergasted.
“So, what do you think?” he asks as we stand in the kitchen.
“I—I—I’m speechless. This is—beautiful. I see why you don’t leave on the weekends. You already have everything you need right here.”
He frowns slightly and recovers with a conspicuous smile when he says, “Not everything.”
“Oh, please. What could you possibly be missing?”
He smirks, but doesn’t answer my question. He says, “We can sit outside and eat if you would like. The food is almost ready.”
“I noticed it was clouding up on the way over here. Do you think it’s going to rain?”
“No. If it does, we can just make a run for it, but I don’t think it’ll rain. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I follow him to the door. He opens it for me and allows me to go ahead of him. Outside, I say, “It smells so good out here. What is he cooking?”
“He’s making steak fajitas.”
“Oh, that sounds good.” I walk over to the bar where I assume we’re sitting since I see two wine glasses and place settings.
I take a seat and soak in the ambiance – the sound of the water crashing, the seagulls and steak sizzling on the grill. The breeze warms my face and tackles my hair. I close my eyes, soak up the sun and appreciate this moment. When I open them, Essex is staring directly at me.
“You like it here,” he says.
“I do. It’s peaceful. How often do you sit out here?”
“Every chance I get. I’m always on the beach—”
