CHAPTER 3: WE MEET AGAIN
1557 Words
I can't look you in the eyes, because I'm afraid when I do. I won't be able to stop myself from falling in love with you.
*Alejandro's P.O.V*
"How many Air Conditioners got stolen?" I ask Mackenzie Roberts, my personal assistant, as I sit on the hood of my closed bay window outlooking Beverly Hills from my room as it rains.
"Forty-six to be exact."He replies and I put it down on my notepad. Forty-six? Hm. That seems almost too intentional.
"What day did Kyle Edwards's mother die? I ask tapping the head of my pen on my notepad.
"Any problem sir?" Mackenzie Roberts asked.
I spotted someone staring up at this building like it was cold water on a ninety-degree Friday. Something about the way her hair looked seemed familiar. Hm...
"Mr. Alejandro, are you still there?" I look back inside my room.
"I'm waiting for a reply Roberts," I say impatiently. I look back down at the lady as she walks to the garden by the left corner, long African hair bouncing at every step. Almost too farmi-
"Mr. Alejandro Madrid?" Mackenzie Roberts calls again and my gaze shifts back to the room.
"Have you answered my bloody question!"I hiss in annoyance.
"Yes sir. I said Kyle Edwards's mother died on the fifteenth of February six years ago." He said and I put it down.
I look back down and the lady is gone. I look towards the direction of the pool but she isn't there. I wonder what a pauper is doing in this part.
"How did his mother die?" I ask and he tuts but remains silent. I hear the sounds of the tapping of keys.
"She was murdered by a Mafia group. The scavengers." He answers the last sentence looser than the first.
"What is the exact amount of goods stolen under his company? Each to be exact." Again silence and this time I hear the flipping of paper.
"Strangely... Forty-six."
"Each?"
"Positive sir."
Bullzine! That little son of a wretch thinks he can fool me.
"Call the cops and tell them to visit Kyle Edwards's household," I instruct. It's either the cops or my father and the latter's not a good option.
"Oh... Okay, sir." He finally replies after what I'm certain was his eyes almost popping out in shock. I end the call and I stand and stretch a bit before taking a quick shower and putting on gray sweatpants and a light blue sweater. I hope Mother is done choosing a proper housekeeper, she wants to choose one herself; according to her, she doesn't want to bring another of Beth's type who would make her son go down on his knees.
*. *
I walk down the fleet of stairs leading to the living room and I see my mother talking to someone who is standing outside the front door. It was raining heavily and my mother didn't look like she was in a good mood because well...she never was.
"Alejandro," Beth calls as she climbs up the stairs in my direction.
"Who's my mother speaking with?" I ask as my gaze shifts to hers.
"It's a lady that wants to apply for the housekeeping job." She says and I nod in confusion.
"And why's she standing outside the front door?" I ask.
"She got drenched in the rain and your mother doesn't want her soaking the rug." That sounds like my mother. I nodded and she seemed worried.
"What's wrong Beth?" I ask scowling and she looks down at her feet.
"That lady by the door... I know I shouldn't tell you what to do but I think she'd get pneumonia if she doesn't get warm, she looks pale." She says and I stare at her. I wasn't the nicest person but I appreciated a good heart. I walk down a stir so I'm one step up from her.
"You care too much. I don't just offer anybody clothes," I say and she nods. I go to the living room and my father enters looking furious like always. He goes into the dining room.
"Bloody Americans and their damn tight security." He mumbles angrily.
"You should have stayed in Europe," I say as I enter the dining room. I sit where I usually do, two seats away from my father. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I'm still doing in this place. Mum doesn't want me to return to Spain like the rest of my siblings because she'd feel lonely. I was holding up just for one reason alone and that's definitely not my mother.
"Tell me that seven years ago." He grumbles and takes a piece of cigarette from the multiple in the silver tray that's on the table. He lights it up and sends the smell of cocaine around the room.
Elizabeth begins to bring in the food. Mother doesn't fancy cooking, she hates it as much as she hates poor people. All she ever does was waste money on dresses and shoes with her goddamn friends. Father didn't appreciate it but he enjoyed spending money on her.
"Looks like that girl ain't getting the job." Father chuckles lightly. I take the side knife next to my plate and I begin to cut into my steak.
"Good for her," I say and then the scent of lavender hits my nostrils. How it managed to stand out from the smell of cocaine and steak is surreal. I remember that Lady that ran into me. It was the same smell.
"If I'd have any conscience, I would have said I pity her. Your mother has been putting up that scary scowl she put on on our wedding day." He says in contempt.
I turn in the the direction of the front door and I see the same girl who I saw earlier in the garden standing nervously by the door. That hair and that smell. She's the same woman I ran into.
"Excuse me," I say and I go into the living room. My mother was rubbing her brows in frustration. She looks at me and smiles. I sit next to her.
"You've been shouting?" I ask and look at her. I feel the eyes of that lady on me.
"You can just say I've had it with these paupers." She sighs scowling and I look at the Lady. Well, she is very beautiful. For the first time, I've seen someone who is as peculiar as Elizabeth. She seemed to have tried her best to make her hair into something presentable but that didn't work. She has rare gray eyes.
"Might as well accept this one. She looks like she needs the job." I say and her eyes drift to mine and I look away.
"Others looked like they were here to seduce you, kept on asking if they were gonna be your private maid." And this one isn't? My eyes scan her body which is covered decently but there is still something worth imagining. But, I am not the type to get turned on easily.
"Elizabeth, your head housekeeper would show you around. Hope you have no criminal records?" Mother says disgust is visible on her face. For some reason, I was waiting to hear that Lady's voice.
She hesitated before replying.
"None that I'm guilty of." She replies in a low yet confident tone. She'd sound like a voice actor speaking in a fluent American accent.
"Manageable... Elizabeth, show..." Mother looks at the Lady.
"Amaya Anderson." She replies.
Amaya Anderson.
"Anderson around the house, work begins tomorrow and you will work here till the old housekeeper returns. Any criminal act and you'd regret ever coming here." She says and goes to the living room.
Elizabeth who stood next to the couch I'm sitting on smiles at her. She seemed happy for her being accepted like she knew her. I won't say I'm unpleased by it.
My eyes catch sight of something poking out of Amaya Anderson's feet that wasn't covered by her flats. It seemed like a bruise.
"Elizabeth, go get my briefcase," I say and she nods and leaves.
"You may come in," I say and stand. She looks around the house before meeting my gaze. I look away again like a bloody coward I suddenly am. Something about her eyes just makes me nervous.
It's quite shocking how she managed to walk properly with that bruise that I'm sure stretches down to her heels from the look of it.
"You shouldn't run under the rain again unless you'd get a more painful bruise," I say and her eyes widen. I didn't expect her to understand what I meant so quickly but from the look of it, she did. Maybe I'd underestimated her, she surely wasn't like other women. I'm surprised she isn't convulsing to get my attention like the others do.
"What-"
"Elizabeth," I cut her off as Elizabeth entered the living room. I walk to her and collect my briefcase. I reduce my voice. "Attend to the bruises on her feet and you can offer her clothes if you so please."
Elizabeth seemed shocked but I didn't stick around longer to have her say anything to me.
I just couldn't stop thinking of that scent and beautiful pair of eyes. I need a cold bath after this, this is unlike Alejandro Luis.
- Writer
