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chapter twenty two
florence thompson
song: grace – lewis capaldi

By the time that Ben dropped me off to my apartment it was 10:40 and I had enough time to pack an overnight bag before a polite knock echoed through my apartment. I quickly grabbed my belongings before dashing towards the door, yanking it open to come face to face with a passive Darby.

His graying hair was neatly gelled back like the last time I'd met him, wearing a black suit that looked quite expensive to match the Rolex on his wrist.

"Good evening, Miss Thompson. I've been sent to accompany you to Mr. De Bellis' penthouse," he spoke politely, not a single beat off.

I nodded softly, hoisting my overnight bag further onto my shoulder and gripping my keys in my hand. He stood to the side, allowing me to walk out into the night once more and closing my door behind me, locking it with keys before following Darby down to his black SUV.

He politely opened the back door for me, motioning for me to get in.

I put my bag in before climbing up into the vehicle.

"Thank you," I managed to get out before he shut the door and climbed into the drivers seat.

The car ride to Vincent's was completely silent between the two of us, the only sound to be heard was the low hum of the radio that was playing jazz music. I watched as we exited Genevieve Springs, nearing closer to Chicago as the tree's became buildings with bright lights.

We passed a bright skyline, the lights of the buildings reflecting off of the serene water as it began to sprinkle outside. I tilted my head, my forehead resting against the cold glass window as we continued to drive by the seemingly never ending skyline.

It's so odd to think about all the lives bustling so steadily around us and yet we think we're the only ones who feel this way. In each of those buildings is bunches of people going about their lives, dealing with pain and love and everything in between.

I closed my eyes, listening to the hum of the music and pushing out any other thoughts that were swarming in my mind.

For the first time since I met Vincent, I didn't have a festering feeling of anxiety in my stomach at the thought of seeing him in front of me in only a matter of minutes. I was calm, my heart beating steadily in my chest, my pulse thudding evenly.

We finally pulled up to Vincent's apartment complex, by this time the rain had gone from a sprinkle to a downpour, loudly pelting the pavement as Darby pulled up to the front doors to let me out.

"Just let me run in and I'll be right back with an umbrella, Miss Thompson," Darby spoke, beginning to unbuckle himself and grip the door handle.

"Don't worry about it, Darby," I smiled at him in the rearview mirror. "I promise, I won't melt," I joked, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Are you sure, Miss Thompson?" He asked, furrowing his brows as he glanced at me in the mirror. The only sound to be heard was the pelting of the rain outside.

"Positive," I confirmed, nodding once.

With a weary look he slipped out of his side, slamming his own door before opening my door and helping me out of the SUV. I clambered out of the vehicle, my shoes hitting the wet pavement and immediately getting soaked in the pouring rain. I let out a laugh.

"I'm going to go park the car, but Mr. De Bellis should be waiting for you," he assured me, closing my door.

I nodded, not bothering to yell to him over the sound of the rain and instead shot him a grateful smile before rounding the car and jogging into shelter where the rain couldn't pelt my skin any longer. By the time that I made it into the building I was nearly soaked from head to toe, my hair matted to my face and water falling from my chin down to my collarbones which were already coated in a thin layer of water.

As I broke through the front doors, I caught the attention of nearly everyone in the lobby who automatically turned their head to see the drowned sewer rat make her dramatic entrance. My sneakers squeaked against the tile, causing me to cringe at the sound in the deadly silent lobby.

I glanced up to the front desk to find Vincent standing there, leaning against the surface as he talked to the receptionist. He was wearing a white button down shirt, the top few buttons undone, tucked into a black pair of dress pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to expose his tanned and muscular forearms.

His dark hair was waywardly, his mismatched eyes looking more exhausted than I'd ever seen them. He had bags under his eyes, causing me to believe my suspicions were correct.

As soon as his eyes laid on my waterlogged appearance, his brows furrowed in annoyance and I was sure right then and there that he was going to set me on fire for getting his expensive tiles wet with my soaked clothing.

He slowly made his way over to me, still saying nothing as I did the same.

His gaze moved over me, causing my cheeks to flush. He analyzed me from my soaking hair down to my soaking shoes.

"Why are you soaking wet, Florence?" He asked lowly, pulling his attention back up to my face where I was giving him a sheepish smile.

"It's pouring outside, I don't know if you realize," my tone was mildly sassy but it was more playful.

He gave me a pointed look.

"Thank you, weather-woman Thompson, for the update on Chicago's precipitation. I meant why didn't Darby give you an umbrella?" He asked as he held his hand out, motioning for me to give him my bag. I did so skeptically, afraid of why in the world he wanted it.

"He offered to, but I told him it wasn't a big deal. What I didn't know is that it's basically a torrential downpour out there," I mumbled the last part, glancing down the growing puddle below me and then back up to Vincent. "Sorry," I said sheepishly.

He glanced down to the puddle as he gripped the bag I'd just handed him. "It's fine, I'll get someone to clean it."

"Are you sure? If you point me to the cleaning supplies I can clean it, I don't want to make anyone clean my mess," I offered, glancing up to Vincent who was currently towering above me.

He gave me another pointed look.

"Absolutely not, Florence. Now let's get you dried up," he sighed, his large hand gripping my wrist as he tugged me towards the elevator I was becoming much too familiar with. "Regan, tell my father I'll call him in the morning," he called out to the girl at the front desk who he'd been talking to when I'd made my grand entrance.

I glanced over to her as she nodded at him, pressing a button on her black headset.

She had chestnut colored hair that was pulled into a low ponytail, no stray hairs to be seen. She had big brown eyes and plump red lips that matched her red sleeveless dress. She had a small nose that made me envious, one of the things I'd always wished I'd had.

She glanced at me momentarily before going back to the screen in front of her, typing away.

Before I knew it we were in the moving death contraption before Vincent pressed the corresponding button for his floor, his other hand still on my wrist. The skin under his fingertips felt as if it was on fire, sending a shock through the rest of my body and rendering me idiotic.

Ben's words echoed through my mind like a warning.

The idea of falling in love with Vincent was ridiculous in itself. I couldn't imagine ever falling in love with someone so wildly different from myself. Vincent is the type of guy that I could see Aria falling in love with, but never myself. I'm too plain Jane for a life that included someone like Vincent De Bellis, so while I can understand where Ben is coming from, I also don't think he's right in the thought that I could ever fall for someone like Vincent.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Vincent asked, his tone deeper than usual as the elevator doors slid open. He tugged me into his apartment, the lights automatically turning on.

I ignored his earlier words as he brought me down a hall to the left that I'd yet to be down. There were multiple closed doors but eventually we arrived to an open door which I realized was a bathroom, a very immaculate bathroom that was probably bigger than my bedroom back home.

"Do you need extra clothes?" He asked, passing me over my pink bag as I began shuffling into the room.

"No, I have some dry clothes in here," I spoke, gripping the edge of the door and looking at him as he glanced over my wet appearance once more.

He chuckled, causing me to roll my eyes and close the door before I could hear what he had to say.

"I'll be in the kitchen, the washer and dryer are in the room next door," he spoke through the door.

I quickly slipped out of my wet clothes, grabbing a towel and drying off before shimmying into my pajama shorts and white t-shirt. I grabbed my clothes and bag, opening the door and finding the laundry room before putting my clothes into the dryer and turning it on.

I decided to leave my bag in the laundry room so it wouldn't be in the way.

With that finally done, I turned on my heel and headed out towards the living area. Finding my way to the kitchen where Vincent was pouring himself a glass of some sort of liquor. He looked up to me as I entered, my brows furrowed as I looked at the glass.

"Nice pajamas," he teased slyly, capping the liquor and putting the bottle back into the cabinet before taking a swig off the glass.

I smiled softly, watching as he leaned back against the counter, his glass still in hand as he continued to watch me closely. I entered the room further, standing on the other side of the island between the two of us and leaning my elbows onto it.

"Did the meeting go badly?" I asked seriously, quickly sobering up the playful mood in the room between the two of us.

The way his playful expression was quickly squashed and replaced with an annoyed one gave me all the answers I needed. His mismatched eyes moved from my face down to the surface of the island between the two of us.

"I'd rather not talk about it right now, Florence," he breathed, looking as if he was trying to control his anger.

I gnawed my lip nervously. The way he'd said my name didn't send a flurry of butterflies through my stomach like it usually did and instead made me nervous.

"Why'd you ask me to come here then?" I asked meekly, glancing up at him through my lashes. My pulse pounded in my ears, immediately regretting my sudden surge of courage that unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth in the first place.

With a sigh he took one gulp, swallowing the remainder of his drink before placing his empty cup onto the counter and rounding the island that separated the two of us. I quickly straightened my spine, standing upright and turning towards him where he was approaching me.

With my breath caught in my throat as I watched as him near me, my heart thudding loudly in my chest.

"Believe it or not, Miss Thompson, I enjoy your company. Now is that so bad?" He whispered the last part, bringing the pad of his thumb up to my face, brushing it softly over the skin on my cheek.

As I stared into his mismatched eyes, I hated how completely intoxicated I felt around this man. He was enough to make my head dizzy with confusion.

"And if I don't believe it?" I mumbled, craning my neck to better look at him as he hovered over me.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to prove it, won't I?" He teased, his head tilting down slightly and effectively making the butterflies in my stomach stir.

"It wouldn't be so bad," I joked, my voice coming out soft as if it was still partially stuck in my throat.

"I think you have yourself a deal, Miss Thompson."

"Happy to hear, De Bellis."

[ t h r e e h o u r s l a t e r ]

"Florence, are you ever going to let me up?" Vincent groaned from below me where I was currently sitting on him.

I grinned down to him, my hair falling around my face as I leaned over his.

"Yes, I will, as soon as you admit that I'm the queen of twister and you suck." I shrugged, reciting the simple terms of my bargain.

After our conversation earlier in the kitchen, Vincent had pulled out his whole stash of games and we'd decided to start a war, whoever could win the most games was the winner. So far I was one game ahead of him, but he refused to admit that I'd won Twister which was currently sitting below the two of us.

He had fallen before me, but he was being stubborn about it, which was probably mostly due to the alcohol in his system.

I know my current stubbornness was due to the one drink he'd poured me.

Spoiler alert: I'm a lightweight.

"I can't admit such things to a woman who pours her milk before her cereal. How barbaric, you know? I can't give you the title of Twister Queen when you're doing stuff like that, it just isn't right to humankind," he shook his head playfully as I groaned aloud.

I slammed my palms down next to his head, causing his eyes to shoot open immediately.

I was currently straddling his waist, my hands now pressed against the floor as my face hovered above his, my blonde hair dangling and nearly acting like a curtain from the outside world. The laughter that was bubbling in his chest immediately died down when I did this, his expression sobering up immediately.

His burning gaze fell to my lips which were only moments before pulled up into a smile but were now slightly parted, taking even breaths of air.

I inhaled sharply when I felt cold hands move up to my thighs, gripping them tightly as they encaged him below me.

"Bella, if you want to keep our long list of rules intact I suggest removing yourself from me," Vincent mumbled.

• • •

q: favorite color combo?

i think yellow and red, or yellow and pink is stunning.

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