Wishing Well(27)

He was the total opposite of what I knew in life, a perfect contrast to Blake. Where Blake had lacked in experience, Vincent was an expert in life. And where Blake had been a light in the darkness, Vincent was a shadow that could consume me whole. Just thinking of him thrilled me, and reacting as I did made me feel like the most ridiculous girl around.

I wasn’t his type. I was just a pathetic wretch who’d ended up on the streets and had somehow managed to gain the attention of a man who wanted to help. I felt bad for assuming he had bad intentions when first he brought me to Wishing Well. If anything, Vincent had been a perfect gentleman, unlike that asshole friend of his. That slimy leech had wasted no time trying to take advantage as soon as Vincent wasn’t around to stop him.

But Vincent had stopped him, hadn’t he? An act that earned him brownie points in my book. After giving me time to calm down, and before taking me to the gardens, he’d also given me enough cash to buy myself some new clothes and have my license replaced. I’d offered to pay him back eventually, but he flat out refused and said, say gra-tees , whatever that meant. I was going to have to buy a French to English dictionary soon, just so I could understand him. For all I knew, he could be calling me a filthy whore and I would smile like an idiot because it sounded pretty.

My shift ended around six that night and I hurried to my hotel room to find my only set of clothes hanging in a bag on the door, freshly cleaned, dried and folded. I could get used to other people doing my laundry for me, but I assumed that would eventually be my job as well since I was technically an employee instead of a guest.

I showered quickly and got dressed, choosing to twist my hair up in a knot rather than dry it, and within minutes I was heading through the lobby on my way to department stores where I could buy more than just one outfit with the cash that Vincent had given me. I’d practically made it to the doors when a certain deep voice caught my attention, my head spinning to the right to see Vincent standing near the front counter speaking to a group of women who must have been guests.

My heart fluttered like it had tiny wings, and while I cursed at myself for the instant reaction, I watched with interest as Vincent wooed the women, his attitude, his dark looks, his voice that was so smooth it melted on the tongue like the finest of chocolate, easily dragging smiles and soft laughter from the women’s lips, two of them daring to reach out and touch him.

I wondered if I was developing a mental problem when jealousy reared its ugly green head, my fingers curling into my palms to see those women flirt so obnoxiously. I wasn’t sure what drew Vincent’s attention my direction, but as soon as he saw me, he winked and turned his attention back to the women he was escorting from the lobby to the elevators in the back hallway.

Briefly wondering whether he would leave them at the doors, or if he’d follow them to their room to take part in some orgy, I grit my teeth. I knew he’d have no trouble luring them to strip off their expensive clothes, one by one.

There was just something about him that had snuck inside me as easily as I assumed it snuck inside all of his female admirers.

A heavy sigh blew over my lips. I forced myself out the door, and farther out the gate of the large circular wall that guarded the grounds of the hotel from easy view.

Shopping took no time at all, and I’d been careful to save enough for my identification that I’d have to get on a day I had off from work. I bought some toiletries and other odds and ends to hold me over until I would receive my next paycheck, splurging on a leather bound journal I could use to record my thoughts. I had no one I could talk to anymore, so I chose to talk to myself. I made it back to the hotel around ten that night. Picking up another cheeseburger and fries from the dining room (much to the dismay of the chef), I took my dinner up to my room, pigged out and fell asleep by eleven.

It surprised me to wake up that night before the sun was a glow on the horizon, my alarm clock flashing three fifteen when a noise outside caught my attention. At first I’d thought some guests had gotten too rowdy, but then a high pitched voice with a recognizable accent set my eyes wide and my heart racing.

Curiosity dragged me out of my bed, holding my hand as I walked barefoot over the soft white carpet to pull the curtain aside and look down at the wishing well I’d seen that morning when Vincent was giving me the tour. Just as I suspected, I saw émilie sitting on one of the circular benches, her mouth wide as she spoke to Vincent in French. I couldn’t understand a damn word she was saying, but by her tone I knew her words weren’t friendly.

Vincent had removed the suit jacket he’d worn earlier that day, and was dressed only in a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and dark slacks. He paced angrily in front of her, stopping when she said something else, a smile stretching his face. Feeling like a voyeur, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, not knowing if I should keep watching. But I couldn’t help staring down wondering if he was breaking up with her for me. A small smile split my lips, not for the pain she was experiencing, but for the small bit of confidence his attention gave me.

The scene ended as quickly as it had begun when Vincent marched off, leaving émilie crying on the bench. Seconds passed as I waited for Vincent to return. When he came back into view, he glanced up at the hotel, my heart jumping into my throat for fear I’d been caught spying. Quickly closing the curtain, I pressed myself flat to the wall, my breath heavy in my chest. More soft noises filtered up to my window, and although I fought not to look, I found myself peeking down again from behind a curtain I’d moved just a fraction of an inch.