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My heart is racing, and my lady parts are dying. There’s no point denying it, I had no willpower or desire to stop him. Where that kiss could have led? I could only imagine the immense pleasure. Just the thought alone has me in desperate need of a cold shower. But if that phone call wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.
When I make it to my room, I slam the door behind me. If there was a lock, I’d have used it, and I really take a moment to consider moving the dresser against the door just to make sure I won’t do anything stupid.
I don’t.
Because that’s insane. Instead, I head straight to the bathroom, lock that door, strip down, step in the shower and let the cold water work its magic and try and forget how much my body craved him.
I’m a chicken and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I stayed in my room all morning. Even when Ren came to my door and knocked, I didn’t open it, just answered him through the door.
Like a chicken.
He didn’t mention what happened, just said his goodbye for the day and let me know Nico would be around if I needed anything.
I didn’t even know who Nico was, but I just said okay. It took a few minutes with my ear up against the door before I heard his feet walk away. But I still waited an hour to leave my room, just to be sure.
Like a chicken.
The rest of the day I spent exploring the house, or mansion I should say. I still hadn’t made it through all the rooms. But I did meet Nico, Ren’s cousin, who’s a few years younger than him.
He’s handsome, like all the other man around here. He’s got dark brown hair and dark eyes, long eyelashes and a cute smile.
He’s also a bit of a computer geek and he didn’t mind chatting my ear off at lunch about things I had no clue about. It was nice.
We hit the games room after that and got into a pinball battle for a couple of hours. Until his phone rang, and Ren announced he was on his way home and to remind me about dinner tonight.
So, I did what any chicken would do. I ran all the way back to my room and locked myself away.
When he came home, I had to kill three hours before our dinner. Avoiding Ren wasn’t too hard. He spent most of it in the gym. I know because I peeked, just to make sure. And that vision is definitely one for the memory bank.
I did the only thing I could think of. I spent most of it getting ready for dinner.
My last shopping trip was a success. I brought all my essentials, which other than toiletries included headphones, and I lost myself in music as I did my face and dressed myself up.
I brought more acceptable clothing according to Tommy, but still didn’t blow the cash Ren had given me. Opting to buy only a few signature designer pieces that I can throw over cheaper, less name brand clothes.
For dinner I decided on a Louis Vuitton throw over and an off the rack dress. Of course, I splurged on thigh high suede boots, and a designer purse. But those are the things people notice first. As Ren’s fiancé, there’s a standard people would expect so I had to keep up appearances, but I was cautious not to spend too much from my getaway fund.
I ignore the ickiness I feel stealing from Ren. Frankly, I ignore a lot of things I feel for him. And I should, because he is starting to scare me most of all. Not because he would hurt me. No. Because he makes my knees go weak and my body come alive. And if I lose sight of what’s most important, which is getting the hell out of Sydney, then it’s only a matter of time before this bubble bursts and it’s me that’s out of luck.
Once I finished dressing, there was still time to kill. So, I decided to be a big girl and leave my room. My first stop was the kitchen to pour myself some of Ren’s fancy whiskey to settle my nerves. As I sipped the smooth liquor, I felt my anxiety begin to fade away and my body relax. Then, I went to my next room to explore.
The formal living room or parlor as Nico informed me earlier that day is a sight to behold. It’s all cream and marble, with intricate details that are absolutely breath-taking, but not exactly what I would call comfortable. There’s a gorgeous fireplace, with a pile of firewood stacked beside it, and the walls are covered in photos. Everywhere you look, there’s another photo. On the mantle, lining the bookshelves, on the wall - it’s like a little Ren Museum
There are a lot of faces. But mostly of Ren and Amari, and what looks to be his father and mother. Most taken when they were kids. Dante too. He is the only blonde one, so it’s easy to tell.
I think I spot the Tommy growing up, but it all gets clearer as they get older. It really hits home how close and loving the family looks. All throughout their childhood with smiles on their faces. It’s obvious how much they love each other, like how it’s meant to be.
My father was never really like that. He was high on anything and everyone. Money, drugs, power, women. Always stressed and craving the drama that came with the lifestyle. It settled whatever demons were left inside him after my mother died. After her death, he no longer cared about anything or anyone, or maybe it was just me he could never love.
But here, in these pictures, it’s so different.
There’s a photo of who I’m sure is Ren’s mother, she’s holding a baby with a mass of jet-black hair. She is young, and so unbelievably beautiful. In every photo, there is always a look of love in her eyes.
But they stop.
Like she is ageless.
As the story is being told a sickness rolls into my stomach. My thoughts are confirmed when I see her memorial card.
