UNEXPECTED DOORWAYS
873 Words
Chapter Seven
Friday afternoon had just started to settle into a lull when my desk phone buzzed sharply.
I picked it up. “Rina Whites speaking.”
“Miss Whites,” came Mrs. Langston’s crisp voice, “I’ll need you at my residence tomorrow morning. I’ll be working from home, and there are documents I want sorted onsite. I’ll text you the address. Be punctual.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She ended the call before I could ask what time.
Moments later, my phone pinged with a message.
Saturday. 9:00 AM. Dress neatly.
And below it, a pin.
I tapped on it and my eyes widened.
The location was in one of the city’s most exclusive residential zones. I’d only ever heard of people living there in magazines and news features.
---
The next morning, I arrived five minutes early, heart thumping softly in my chest.
The house wasn’t just large it was art.
A grand, modern mansion built from smooth stone, wood, and glass, it sat behind a tall, black gate with silver engravings. Perfect hedges lined the driveway. Ivy curled lazily around one side of the white stone walls. Every inch looked like it had been designed by someone who didn’t understand the meaning of the word ordinary.
As I approached the door, it swung open before I could even knock.
A housekeeper smiled politely. “You must be Miss Whites. Mrs. Langston is upstairs in the office. She said to bring you in.”
The foyer was airy, filled with soft sunlight spilling through tall glass panes. A grand staircase spiraled upwards on one side, and abstract paintings hung on the walls like statements. Everything smelled faintly of fresh lilies and lemon polish.
I tried not to stare too much.
The housekeeper led me up the stairs, down a quiet hallway, and into a sleek home office with full-length windows overlooking a private garden.
Mrs. Langston stood at her desk, flipping through files.
“You’re early. Good,” she said without looking up. “There are contracts in this drawer that need to be digitized and properly arranged. I’ll be in and out. Don’t touch anything else.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She stepped out with a tablet in hand, leaving me alone in the pristine space. I opened the drawer and got to work, carefully organizing scanned copies into labeled folders on my laptop.
It was quiet for a while—until I heard footsteps behind me.
Not sharp like Ava’s.
Barefoot. Quieter. Slower.
I turned.
And froze.
There he was.
The photographer.
Only now, he wasn’t holding a camera. He wore a black tank top, gray sweatpants, and earbuds that hung loosely around his neck. His skin glistened faintly with sweat, his curls slightly damp like he’d just stepped out of the gym or a long run. A white towel was slung over his shoulder.
He blinked at me, just as surprised.
“You again,” he said, wiping his forehead.
I slowly stood from the desk. “You're—”
“Living here,” he finished, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Well. Visiting, technically. I'm in and out.”
My heart thudded in my chest.
“You’re… Mrs. Langston’s”
“Son,” he said simply, like it was no big deal.
Son.
I was standing in Ava Langston’s mansion.
And her son the guy who had taken a candid photo of me in the rain, the guy I’d had coffee with, the guy who was now standing three feet away with sweat glistening on his neck was him.
The room felt warmer suddenly.
“I didn’t know,” I said, slowly regaining my voice.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, still breathing a little heavily from whatever workout he’d just finished. “Yeah, she doesn’t exactly bring me up in staff meetings.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
He studied me for a second, then nodded toward the desk. “Working?”
“Trying not to mess anything up.”
“She’s a handful,” he said, lowering his voice. “But she wouldn’t have asked you to come here if she didn’t think you were sharp.”
I looked at him, surprised. “You know how she works?”
He shrugged. “Trust me. I grew up watching her boss around boardrooms from the dining table.”
A pause stretched between us, warm and charged.
He stepped closer, tilting his head. “You never asked my name, by the way.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You never offered it.”
He grinned. “Micah.”
Micah.
The name settled neatly into place, like something I should’ve known all along.
“I’m Rina,” I said, even though he already knew.
“Nice to officially meet you. Again.”
Before I could respond, a sharp voice echoed from down the hallway.
“Micah, stop hovering over my staff.”
He winced. “She hears everything.”
I stifled a smile. “I better get back to organizing.”
He took a step back. “I’ll be downstairs. Try not to get fired.”
Then he disappeared, towel still over his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat and chaos behind him.
- Writer
