Coming Home

Chapter 5

Venice pushed through the sea of sweaty bodies before looking around the small room. She held up a hand, covering her ear as the music pounded against the walls. Four black, large speakers stood above the DJ's head as his hands skimmed over the machine. She squinted as the lights flashed in her face. Red. Blue. Green. Every streak of color almost blinded her as she tried to catch a glimpse of a familiar dark-head man.

The VIP section was on the far side of the room. She'd have to fight her way through the wild crowd just to get there. She sighed. Oh, how she wished she was back in her bed! The warmth of her sheet had called out to her, inviting her back to where she'd been a half hour ago. Their invisible arms wrapping tightly around her, not wanting to let her go. She wouldn't have to leave the comfort of her home if it weren't for her boss.

Shaking her head, she squeezed past the couple practically eating each other's faces, and sauntered over to the special room where only VIP members were allowed in. She ignored the looks everyone darted her way, studying the room. The walls were painted a deep purple color with the floor covered with a burgundy, flush carpet. A massive chandelier hung brightly up in the ceiling; its tiny glass ornaments glinting and shining down on her. Each diamond engraved on the surface cost half of her salary per year. Staring at it made her teeth grind from how expensive it was.

"May I help you?" a waitress appeared in front of her.

"I'm here to pick up Mr. Smith," Venice answered before gazing around the room. "Is he still here?"

"He's right there." The waitress pointed toward the bar where a man sat by himself, alone and drunk. She watched him tip his head back, downing the shot of whiskey he swallowed without wincing.

She thanked the woman before trudging toward Max. This wasn't her ideal of fun at three in the morning. She didn't want to spend every weekend picking up her drunk boss in the early hours of the morning, and losing sleep over him.

"Come on, Mr. Smith." She grabbed the glass halfway to his lips. His mouth brushed briefly against her skin, warmth spreading from her arm to the pit of her belly. She bit her bottom lip, ignoring the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

"Hey, that's my drink!" Her boss said adorably, making a grab for his drink but failed miserably. Shirley was nowhere in sight. Where could the supermodel gone to? Nevermind. She wasn't her responsibility. Max was.

"Let's get you home." She wrapped her arm around him, swinging his around her shoulders and hauled him up from his seat. She grunted in pain, her legs wobbling as she supported his weight. He was leaning heavily on her that her thighs threatened to buckle beneath her.

"Can you walk?" she asked, dragging him out the door.

He muttered something she didn't understand. He was so drunk he could barely talk. One of the security guards saw her and walked over her way. He heaved some of Max's weight off her, helping her drag him out to the nearest exit. The guard was nice enough to hold onto Max while she called for a taxi.

As soon as they managed to put her boss inside, Venice reached for her purse in gratitude but the older man stopped her. "No need. Just bring him home, eh?" She nodded and thanked the guard before getting inside the car.

She could barely feel her shoulders for they'd gone numb. Max was a hundred pound of muscles and not an ounce of fat. Her tiny muscles ached from carrying a full-grown man, and she hoped she wouldn't have to lift anything heavy for the next couple of days.

"Where are we headed, ma'am?" the taxi driver asked.

Where were they headed exactly? She couldn't remember his address since his driver had been around to pick them up. She could barely recall his neighborhood since it had been dark. s**t. Where could she possibly drop him off to? It couldn't be at some hotel. Max would go batshit crazy on her the moment he realized she'd left him at some cheap accomodation.

She couldn't bring him home. She lived alone and no man had ever seen her apartment before. It was her sanctuary; her safe haven that no one had ever invaded before. Bringing him there felt wrong. But what choice did she have? He would barely fit inside and her house was tiny. It was just meant for one person, not two. Her landlady would surely get mad if she found she brought a man home. It was one of the top rules her landlady had before she rented the place. She didn't have any options. Her house or a hotel she couldn't afford.

She gave him her address before settling back on the car. She couldn't believe she was breaking one of her rules. Bringing a man home was a no-no. That had been her aunt's advice. Never bring a man to your house unless he planned on marrying you. It was an old-school tradition but she believed in it. And now she was breaking her promise just because Max couldn't keep his hands off his alcohol.

His supermodel lover should be taking care of him, not her. She was just his secretary. The job description didn't include a babysitter. She didn't sign up for that, and yet here she was, doing exactly what she said she wouldn't do.

But why did Max go to the club instead of the after-party? He was invited with the rest of his family but he chose to spend time alone, in a bar, drinking until he could barely hold him himself up. It didn't make any sense. Shirley had been there, accommodating and available. Why didn't he just grab the opportunity and ran off with her for the night? Surely, he found her attractive.

She shrugged the thought aside. Their relationship was none of her business. She didn't want to poke her nose where it didn't belong. Whatever nonsense she was feeding him didn't concern her. As long as she did her job properly that was all she cared about.

Venice looked down on the sleeping man beside her. He'd somehow manuevered himself into a lying position with his head planted firmly on her thigh. His impressive chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. His long, dark lashes touched his cheek, eyes closed and for the first time he looked peaceful. His face free of stress and worry. His skin smooth with his thick brows unfurrowed. He looked younger than his twenty-eight years. He could probably pass for someone younger if he weren't so busy frowning all the time.

She reached out hesitantly, afraid he might wake up as soon as she touched him. But he stayed immobile and asleep as she combed her fingers through the thick mane of his hair. It was soft and flowed easily through her fingertips. Venice jumped in surprise when Max groaned. She waited for him to wake up, to find her touching him without permission. Instead of waking up, he turned to her as if expecting more.

She continued brushing his hair away from his face, feeling her sleep return. She shook her head, vigorously to shed any essence of slumber from her mind. They both couldn't sleep in the taxi. No one would keep an eye out and they were almost at her house.

"Please turn right," she instructed.

The wheels stopped and the door opened. She reached out for her purse and handed him a fifty-dollar bill. She let him keep the change as the driver helped her haul Max out. She kept her arm around him as she jammed her key into the door, practically dragging him into her living room. Her sofa would have to do since she wasn't willing to give up her bed. Max would just have to suck it up if it was uncomfortable.

She adjusted his position in the sofa before noticing that his feet hung in the air. He was too tall and too big for her small couch. Fortunately for him, she had a massive blanket she had never used. It would have to do for the meantime. She left the room to grab him the blanket before coming back. He was curved into a ball by the time she returned, noticing that his shoes had disappeared but the socks stayed on.

Well then that made her job easier. She stood before him as she stared at his clothed body. The jacket must be uncomfortable judging by the way he'd tried to take it off. One arm hung loose from the sleeves while the other stayed inside. It shouldn't have bothered her but it did. Instead of leaving it alone, she bent down and helped him out of it. His heat radiated off of him making her aware of the skin she was exposing.

Before she could look, she laid out the sheets on top of his big body, tucking it in to prevent the cold from getting in. As much as she hated it, he was still her guest. She had to make sure he was as comfortable as she could make him.

She turned off the lights and padded back to her room. She kept her door slightly ajar in case he woke up in the middle of the night, wondering where he was. She settled in her bed and found herself staring at the ceiling again. She tried to summon slumber but her mind wouldn't rest. She would have to explain everything tomorrow morning once Max woke up.

He would surely have lots of questions starting with why he was here in her house instead of his. Max was the type of person who was suspicious about everything. He wouldn't settle for anything but the truth. And she would give him the truth. She would tell him he passed out on the bar again, drunk and brought him home instead to some cheap hotel. And if he was determined to why she didn't bring him to a much nicer hotel, she'd just admit she could barely afford it. That seemed like a great plan.

***

The birds chirped outside as a cool gust of wind passed through the open windows. Sunlight shone brightly through the curtains she had drawn up last night. Her eyes fluttered as she held on tightly to the warmth of her blanket. She was content. Her body still ached but it was a dull one that would soon fade later on in the day. She wished it was a different ache. But self-pleasuring had never been her forte. She only do it if her body badly needed a release.

Today was Sunday. She'd have plenty of things to do today that she couldn't do during her weekdays. She'd do her laundry first, then some light house cleaning before settling down on her couch to watch her favorite show. She needed a fix of her America's Top Model re-run before she prepared for tomorrow. It felt as if Sunday was her only day off. She was lucky enough when Saturday becomes a part of her weekend to do whatever she pleased. But mostly these days, it was occupied getting Max out of trouble. It was becoming a routine for her.

Couch. Max.

She almost bolted from the bed as she remembered her unwanted guest last night. Max was probably still passed out on her sofa after a night he had. She'd have to prepare some soup to cure his hangover with some Panadol to go with it. She'd get up before he wakes up. She'd prepare breakfast and send him on his way home so she could relax.

His voice came out of nowhere. "You're awake, right?"

Venice tensed.

"Good. I've been up for hours. Can you get up, Miss. Zane so we can talk?"