chapter twenty eight
florence thompson
song: are you lonesome tonight - elvis

The rain pouring down on Tuesday night as I pulled up to Vincent's apartment complex reminded me of the night I arrived looking like a sewer rat. The same night Vincent oh so happily broke the rules I very quickly placed between the two of us. Well, I guess not technically.

The thought alone made my cheeks flush as I slammed my door shut, this time being smart enough to carry an umbrella. I opened it, wasting no time in making my way into the building before we had a repeat of my late night visit.

Upon my entrance, I collapsed my umbrella. Thankfully this time around all the expensive looking people didn't look twice at me...except for one. My interest piqued when I recognized the man from the first time I visited Vincent here, the man who was ridiculously handsome and annoyingly cryptic.

His dark curly hair was messy today, his blue eyes standing out in an alluring contrast from his tanned skin.

His lips quirked up when he saw me, and I made the quick decision to ignore him and head towards the elevator with my umbrella in hand. Unlucky for me, apparently the oh so mysterious man also had to get into the elevator.

I knew he'd caught my annoyance from the amusement written on his features as he slid through the closing doors.

It was silent between us as we both stared at the numbers, his hands clasped in front of him. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye to see a smirk pulling on his lips. I rolled my eyes, turning back to face the front of the elevator.

"I'd like to point out that I held the doors for you, Miss Thompson. Isn't it only polite to return the favor?" His smoky tone finally broke the thick silence that flooded the elevator.

Bad analogy. Now I'm picturing drowning in an elevator. Add that to my list of unrealistic fears.

"Sorry, didn't see you," I lied straight through my teeth, not bothering to look at him. He knew I was lying, I knew I was lying.

He let out a deep chuckle.

Thankfully we finally arrived to the top floor where I was quick to flee the moving contraption. I felt his gaze glued to my back, sending wary shivers down my spine. I didn't make a move to glance back at him as I listened to the elevator doors close. The quiet hum of the elevator descending relieved me as I released a sigh, a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Vincent?" I called out, pulling my jacket off and hanging it on the rack next to the elevator. I placed my umbrella next to it, along with my purse.

It took a few fleeting moments before he finally appeared, a crooked smile on his lips when he drank in the sight of me in all my after work glory. I was wearing light wash skinny jeans and a gray T-shirt to pair with my black converse. Nothing fancy, thats for sure.

"I'm digging the choice of apparel, Miss Thompson," he teased, coming to greet me where I was still stood with a goofy grin on my lips.

"Oh, are you?" I countered, placing my hands on my hips playfully.

"Yes, very much so," he smiled down at me as he came to stand in front of me. He pulled his hands out of his trouser pockets, playfully clenched his fist, putting it up to his mouth as if he was holding a microphone. "Miss Thompson, we're just dying to know, who are you wearing tonight?" He deepened his voice-something I wasn't even aware was possible-leaning forward and placing the imaginary microphone towards me.

I let out a hearty chuckle, throwing my head back.

"I'm wearing TJ Maxx's clearance section," I joked back, sobering up.

A boyish grin broke out across his ridiculously handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had stubble casted across his jaw, I was itching to run my fingers over it but quickly reminded myself of the boundaries.

"Ready for dinner, Madam?" He asked, still in the teasing mood that I rather enjoyed, honestly. He held out his bent arm for me to grab, all proper.

"As I'll ever be," I grinned, hooking my arm through his.

Our dinner was relatively silent between the two of us, the news of my interview danced on the tip of my tongue. I'd been aching to mention it all night, just couldn't find the appropriate place to drop the information. The silence suddenly seemed like a good place to inform him of the new information.

"So," I began, my voice coming out more nervous than I'd intended, "I got an interview for that position you referred me to."

This caught Vincent's attention across the small table on his balcony, the place we frequently ate our dinner recently. It was mostly due to the breathtaking view of the sunset and the bustling city life below.

Mismatched blue-brown eyes danced over me, pink lips pulling up into a crooked smile.

"Really?" He asked, seemingly impressed for some reason. As if his words don't hold weight, especially in the form of a referral.

"Yeah, I've got an interview on Thursday," I breathed, leaning back and grabbing my glass of water.

I continued to gauge his reaction, which per usual, wasn't giving much away.

"That's excellent news, Florence," his tone was even and controlled as he brought his glass of wine to his lips, tilting his head and parting his lips.

I felt my lips pull into a tight smile and I nodded, glancing down to my feet on the sturdy ground.

"Why don't you look like it's exciting news?" He asked warily after a long moment of silence between the two of us.

My gaze snapped back up to him, nearly exasperated. If there's one thing I hate most about myself it's the fact that my emotions are worn on my sleeve constantly. I can't hide how I feel even if I want to, my anger, sadness, annoyance, excitement is always written all over my face.

"Oh, no!" I quickly worked to cover my RBF, shaking my head. "It is exciting! I'd love to make an annual income more suitable for my life." I smiled tightly, surely more to convince myself than him.

I felt overwhelmingly ungrateful for my lack of excitement. I just can't help but feel like one door is closing and another is opening, and while that would normally be ridiculously exciting, when the door closing happens to be the job I've worked since I was 15, it's a little more difficult.

I keep picturing Glenn's face when (and if) I tell him I'm leaving, or even that I'll only be able to work a day or two a week. The mental image breaks my heart every time I think about it. The last thing I want to do is leave the man who did so much for me when I needed someone the most.

"Florence," he spoke my name with a certain tightness to his tone, catching my undivided attention. "You're not happy about this, why?" He demanded, giving me his usual pointed look.

I rolled my eyes.

"I am happy! See?" I flashed a big, obnoxiously fake smile hoping to prove my point but his unchanging expression lead me to believe it didn't do much.

"First of all, that is the fakest smile I've seen-and I work in business, so that says something. Second of all, roll your eyes again, Miss Thompson." He gave me yet another pointed look, his last few words shifting the atmosphere quickly.

His words made my eyes bulge, heat spreading all over my body.

In a moment of feigned courage, I found myself rolling my eyes rather slowly with a playful smirk on my lips.

When my gaze fell back on Vincent across from me, heat trailed from my head to my toes. His brows were lifted slightly in something mimicking shock, his head tilted. His tongue swiftly ran over his bottom lip, pulling my gaze down to his mouth and reminding me of the moment I had been trying to forget.

I felt my cheeks ignite, my heart pounding in my chest at the carnal look in his eyes. That look was anything but platonic, making something stir in my stomach. Something I was very unfamiliar with, truly.

"Did you just roll your eyes again, Miss Thompson?" He asked slowly, calculatedly.

His gaze dipped down to my mouth where my lips were parted, my breathing coming uneven and ragged. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, suddenly conscious of his gaze on me.

"Maybe I did, Mr. De Bellis. Would that be so bad?" I cocked my head playfully, a teasing smirk on my lips.

He slowly pushed himself up from his seat and slowly walked over to my side, like a predator stalking its prey and suddenly I wasn't a 20 year old girl, I was a lonely deer in front of a stealthy, hungry tiger.

"For you?" He contemplated aloud, coming to tower over my seat before grabbing my hand and swiftly pulling me up. "Maybe," he breathed, his mismatched gaze dancing from my eyes to my lips.

"I'm not so convinced, Mr. De Bellis," I spoke breathily, my heart still racing in my chest at out close proximity.

He dipped his head down so his lips were next to my ear, pressing his lips against the skin below it.

"What ever will I do with you, Miss Thompson?" He asked, his voice deep and gravelly in my ear. Shivers danced deliciously down my spine as I leaned into him, feeling the heat radiate off of him.

My hands found their around his neck, encircling him closer even though my inner neurotic voice of reason was screaming relentlessly about how stupid I am. I leaned further into him as he held me close by my hips, placing slow kisses from my jaw to my collarbones.

"You're going to be the death of me, Mr. De Bellis," I breathed, all my thoughts whirling in my brain, too fast for me to keep up.

"You? I'm not so sure about that," he breathed against my skin, clearly amused with himself. "Your rules, though...that's definitely a different story."

I rolled my eyes as he pulled back from me, hands still clasping my hips securely. He glanced down to me, that carnal desire still pooling in his iris'. I suddenly wished we hadn't met the way we did and he was just a normal man and we could have a normal relationship.

But he isn't, and we can't. He's a very complex man, that's for sure. That simple fantasy won't ever be something we could ever fulfill, no matter how much the hopeless romantic part of me secretly wanted it.

"Do you still want to come see me after your interview? I know we had dinner scheduled that night but if you want to reschedule I understand," he whispered, looking down to me below him where my arms were still wrapped around his neck.

It suddenly felt odd with my arms around him so I went to pull away but before I could he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him, leaving no space between the two of us. I sucked in a quick breath, my gaze quickly finding Vincent's amused one.

"Going so quickly, Miss Thompson?" He mumbled, minty breath fanning my face.

I felt my cheeks warm up, he was obviously amused at my embarrassment.

"To answer your question," I began, attempting to keep my voice even as I steered the conversation back to where it began, "I don't want to reschedule."

His lips pulled up into a smile.

"Good, I look forward to our next dinner," he spoke, making me believe each and every word he was saying.

I wondered momentarily what this is between us. It obviously crosses the lines I'd so quickly painted between us, but yet not so far that I was pulling away. In fact, the contact between us only worked to pull me in further.

"As do I." I smiled softly.

• • •

q: what language do you wish you knew?