Chapter 2: Mount Royale

Rainy’s POV

Cass is looking at me coyly. She is holding a bottle of champagne.

“Don’t point it that way!” Sylvia shouts as Cass pops the cork, and it ricochets off the irreplaceable, turn of the century, leaded glass bay window frame. She just barely misses the glass.

Sylvia looks rather worried about the future of her heritage building as her brow forms a slight frown. Honky and Ponky are set off by the cork and my ears are ringing from the yips and yaps.

“Well, I’ll leave you girls to your celebrating and let you get settled in,” Sylvia says, gathering her dogs up who won’t stop trying to run away in the process. Bright purple hair curls out from under her lavender hat.

“Sylvia, those dogs look like a handful,” I say slyly, “Would you ever let me walk them for you? I just love dogs. Always have.”

“Oh, I’ll love you forever if you can control these crazies!” Bright red lipstick creeps into the lines around her mouth and she has lipstick on her teeth as she grins rather widely. I’m trying not to giggle.

I reach kneel down, look at the two crazy, spinning, yapping dogs, and sing their names softly. It isn’t long before they stop barking and settle down.

Sylvia points at me with her wrinkly finger tipped with glittery purple nail polish. “Hm, looks like you certainly have a way with them.” She cocks up her chin triumphantly as she heads out the door, finally leaving Cass and me in our new place.

“I thought she would never leave. “Let’s finish that bottle.”

Every luxury has been provided for us here from the dishes to the thick, soft, white spa towels in the bathrooms. Sylvia has thought of everything! All we need to do is pick our rooms and unpack our suitcases.

As my drink dances down my throat, I remember the moment in the restaurant when that gorgeous waiter touched my hand. I swear I can feel that moment again, even though he is not here. It’s almost as though I am reliving it for a second. I can hear his velvety, deep voice, and feel it resonating through my soul.

“I want the lavender room!” I hear a slurred voice coming out of my mouth. “Cash! Cassshhhh! Lavenduuuurrr! Shleep!”

Cass giggles and steers me into my chosen bedroom, the one with the lavender floral bedspread. I stumble onto the bed face first.

As I lay here with the room spinning, all I can think about is Bron’s face. His hands, his voice. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again, and as the room spins, and fades to black, I feel his breath on my neck. Must be a dream.

I feel him lying next to me, my leg draped over his waist, our bodies tangled in the covers together. His dreamy brown eyes looking into mine, telling me he wants me. “I want you too,” I sigh, draping my arms around his neck, kissing his warm, soft lips dreamily. My delicate fingers touch his soft black waves. My body and soul surrender to him fully.

It all feels so real, so I let myself slip into this dream against my better judgment. My breasts ache with desire, and I can feel his warm hand between my thighs. “Oh my God, Bron.”

I sigh as he takes me, the rush of heat becomes a gush of moisture as waves of pleasure overtake me. He bites my neck ever so softly. The room feels warm and fuzzy and seems to spin as I fall asleep in his arms. I feel so content. I have never felt more loved.

***

It's 7 a.m. and in my drunken stupor, I must have forgotten to close the bamboo blinds. The sun hits my eyes like a slap in the face. Where am I? One word comes into my mind. Bron. Recalling my tryst with Bron last night, everything suddenly dawns on me. I had too much to drink last night. I had just been dreaming, as intense as it was. Woah.

I can’t help but feel strange. That dream felt so real to me. I feel let down. I am really not sure why I feel such intense things for this man I only met once. It's really stupid, actually.

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, then get out of bed. When the cold water hits my face, I’m suddenly pulled back into the real world. And I see two tiny bruises on my neck. “Ouch.” Weird. I let my hand caress my neck for a second before brushing it off as freckles.

I walk by Cass’ room and the door is wide open. Her blinds are closed. Lucky her. She farts and snores as I pass by. Her butt sticking up in the air and her face is buried in her pink satin pillowcase. Blonde hair everywhere. She will probably sleep until noon.

I open every cupboard and drawer. A huge wave of relief overcomes me when I see a cupboard fully stocked with herbal teas and craft honey. Caffeine. I am comforted by the small things.

As I run my hands under the water, then fill the red kettle, I swear I can feel Bron standing behind me, wrapping his arms around me in a warm, comforting embrace. I scold myself for my constant thoughts of this man. I drink some tea and tell myself to get real. But it feels so real.

I'm sitting at the dining table with my mug resting between my hands, wondering where I should start applying to businesses for a job. My phone buzzes on the table beside me, breaking my thought process. It is Sylvia already. Oh my god.

I am way too hungover and in no condition to walk dogs. I shouldn’t have offered. Groaning, I text back asking “What time?”

“Does 7 p.m. work for you?”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Yes.”

***

I arrive at Sylvia’s house at exactly 7 p.m. She lives directly above the café across the street. I can see her little red French terrace doors and garden boxes full of flowers from our bay window.

Honky and Ponky are yapping with excitement as we set out on a walk around the neighborhood. The end of the cobblestone main street becomes a hill with giant houses that overlook the city. I decide that is where we are heading. Despite the two little furball's miniature size, they still pull me up the hill with great strength.

It’s so much quieter up here. Darker. I enjoy a long, deep breath and let my shoulders drop as I pass by these amazing houses. Some are old with iron gates. Some are modern with huge glass windows making up the entire front of the house.

As we approach the end of the street, I see a huge, gothic, brick mansion with white pillars and white wolf statues on each side of the curved staircase that leads up to the front door, complete with a lion head door knocker, and flickering lights outside the grand entrance. I notice that only one room is lit up. The rest are all dark.

Why would only one room be lit up in this grand old house? Does the owner live alone? I unconsciously walk closer to the house in a trance-like state. The wolves seem to be guarding the doors like they might spring to life any second.

If it weren’t for the plaster wolves, and the silhouette of a man staring down at me from the window, I might have knocked. But I got chills. And I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear saying, “stay away.”

And another, even louder voice whispered to me “This is your house, Rainy. Welcome to your house.”

But THAT is crazy. Isn’t it?