What a psycho
1168 Words
Ilsa's POV
He stood there, dressed in black dress pants and a white shirt with the first few buttons undone, exposing his tanned skin beneath.
“What the f**k is wrong with you?” I snapped, clutching my towel. “Are you lost?”
He dragged his gaze over me. Slowly. Deliberately. From my damp hair to my legs, and back up again.
“I knew I smelled charity in here somewhere,” he said casually. “I just had to see for myself.”
My mouth parted in disbelief. I must have misheard him.
“What did you just say to me?”
He tilted his head slightly as smirked. “You're Ilsa? That's… disappointing.”
“And you are…” I paused, gasping dramatically as I placed a hand on my chest. “That's right. I don't care. Get the f**k out.”
His lips twitched.
“Me?” he asked, pointing to himself like he was genuinely confused.
I looked around the room, then back at him, unimpressed. “I don’t see two idiots here.”
“I do, cause you seem to have forgotten that you're in my house.” A smirk tugged at his lips. He was enjoying this.
“Your house? Or daddy's house.”
I felt the shift.
He took slow steps towards me, like a predator that knew I wasn't going anywhere. I instinctively tightened my grip on the towel around me, raising my chin as I stood my ground.
He stopped right in front of me.
Too close.
Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. Enough to notice the faint scent of something expensive and annoyingly good.
I didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes.
“You come into my house,” he started, his voice barely a whisper. “Invade my space… and you're still a rude brat.”
“That makes two of us.” I bit back. “Now get the f**k out.”
Silence stretched between us.
I was waiting for him to say something else. Or do something.
Instead, his lips curved into that same infuriating smirk. Then he stepped back. Slowly, never breaking eye contact.
Just like that, he walked out without another word, shutting the door behind him.
I immediately let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding, rushing over to lock it.
My heart was pounding. Too loud.
I rested against the door for a moment, steadying myself.
“What a f*****g psycho.” I muttered to myself. “Who the hell does he think he is?”
Walking over to my suitcase, I dried my body and pulled out a casual outfit to put on. I shook my head as my mind drifted to the earlier moment.
How he looked at me.
How close he stood.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. “For f**k’s sake, Ilsa.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Miss?” A voice called out.
I sighed in relief. For a moment I thought he was the one.
I unlocked the door to see one of the staff.
“Dinner is ready.” She said politely.
Dinner? As in, sitting at a long table? With everybody?
Yeah, no. Not happening.
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry.” I lied through my teeth.
As if on cue, my stomach roared loudly, deciding it was the best time to betray me.
I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my neck. “That wasn't me.”
She gave me a knowing smile before she left.
“Really?” I stared at my stomach angrily like it could hear me.
Realising I couldn't ignore everyone forever, I dragged my feet grudgingly out the door and into the ridiculously long hallway. All the doors looked exactly the same.
I stood there for a second.
Left? Or right?
“Awesome.” I muttered under my breath.
I went towards the left, scanning everything whilst trying to figure out how to get to the dining area.
My footsteps echoed faintly as I passed one door, then another, then another. None of them gave dining room. I was growing frustrated.
I turned a corner, trusting my non-existent sense of direction.
Yeah, no. Definitely not the way.
This place felt darker and quieter, definitely not somewhere for dining. I turned around to make my way back when I heard the faint sound of what sounded like jazz, playing in the background.
I turned back around, inching closer to where I thought the sound was coming from. Stopping in front of a door, I placed my ear against it when it immediately clicked open, sending me stumbling.
I squealed as I steadied myself.
Of course… him.
A frown formed on his face the moment he saw me. “The f**k are you doing here?”
My brain had completely stopped working.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was standing an inch away from me… shirtless.
He ran a hand through his hair carelessly as my gaze dropped to his toned abs. Water droplets clung to his skin, trailing down to his v-line that disappeared into the towel hanging loosely around his waist.
I gulped hard.
“Take a picture would you?” he spoke, snapping me out of my daze.
I blinked. “W… what are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” He replied flatly, folding his arms as he leaned on the doorframe. “You're in my wing.”
Right.
I straightened immediately, clearing my throat. “Well, karma's a b***h huh?”
“Get lost.”
“I am already lost.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I'm supposed to be in the dining room? This place doesn't exactly come with a road map.”
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
He just stared at me, like I was some sort of science project.
Realising he was going to be of no help, I huffed and walked away.
“Wrong.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, clenching my jaw as I turned around slowly.
“What the f**k is your problem Vasquez?” I asked in annoyance.
“It's Luis.”
“I didn't ask.”
The smirk appeared again and I resisted the urge to slap it off.
I struggled to keep my eyes on his face as he pushed himself off the doorframe, walking closer to me. “You know, you're quite mouthy for someone who needs my help.”
I didn't say anything because I was focused on keeping my heartbeat steady, afraid that he might hear how fast it was pounding.
“Go right. Straight. Second left. Try not to walk into another place you're not needed.”
And with that, he walked off, banging the door behind him.
I hated him.
At this point, it was clear I did.
But why was I slightly turned on?
- Writer
