Chapter Thirteen

Riley Lynn (P.O.V.)

 "Ughh," I groaned, pressing on my temple, and trying to ease the pounding of my headache.

I really had not thought it through when I decided to get drunk the night before. Not to mention the fact that I did not even make it home until two in the morning and then had to wake up at eight to get ready for my nine-to-five shift. All in all, I felt like crap. 

Tamia smirked at me from the other side of the store, where she was currently wiping down tables. I had volunteered to do it initially, but the smell of bleach made me want to puke. I glanced at my phone, expecting to see a missed call from Vincent, but there was nothing. Had I scared him away last night? He definitely deserved my attitude, but I wondered if I was too harsh. 

I snorted.

I am not even going to entertain that thought for a moment.

He totally deserved it.

Hopefully, he had learned something from it. Admittedly, I was still a little worried. What if he did not want to use me as his pretend girlfriend anymore? That was a lot of money to give up just for a little dignity. 

"Any texts from rich Vin?" Tamia asked, leaning over the counter to look at my phone. 

"Surprisingly, no." 

"Disappointed?" 

"Not really," I said, opening the cash register and straightening out the money.

There was not much to do today at work. It was rainy and dismal outside and no customers were coming in. I figured they were beelining for the Dunkin's down the street with the drive-thru. 

Tamia nodded a few times even though there was nothing to agree to.

"When do you go back to work at Michelangelo's?" I paused, losing count of the ones in my hand.

I have not even thought about going back to Michelangelo's. Thinking about it now, my suspension was almost over. Did I even want to go back? With the money Vincent gave me, I really did not have to. However, if things do not work out, I would be screwed. The café did not pay me enough to support myself, let alone any college bills that may come in the fall.

"I have a couple more days. Thinking about going back makes me want to cry though." 

"But your tips are so good! Ten grand good," she added with a grin. 

I laughed.

"Not everyone is as special as Vincent." 

"Hmm, I wonder if he has a brother." 

"Oh, actually, Liam - that guy he was with the other day - said that Vincent had a brother." 

Tamia's brown eyes lit up.

"Oh yeah? I may be in luck after all." She said excitedly.

I shoved the money back in the register and closed the drawer.

"If he is anything like Vincent, you probably do not want to go for it." I warned.

"I am up for a challenge," was her response. "It is about time for me to get over your brother, anyway." 

I tensed at the mention of my brother.

"Yeah." Tamia gave me a sympathetic look.

"He will be out soon, Riley. He already made it this long so I am sure these six months will fly by. Are you still mad at him?" 

"I was never mad at him," I told her, putting my arms into my apron, and leaning against the counter.

"I will be happy when he is out. Less stress off me— if he can even find a job. Jail does not look too good on a resume. Ugh, he is so stupid." 

"That depends on if he even did it," she pointed out. "If you guys can somehow prove he did not—" 

"That does not matter since he still went to jail for it," I cut her off. "Maybe he did do it, I do not know. He does like to drink."

I was tired of having that argument with myself. Did Luke do it? Or did he not do it? Was he innocent? Or had he actually stolen the car and put multiple lives in danger? Either way, it made my head hurt. And either way, he had been gone for the latter half of the previous year and which meant that I had been left by myself. 

Tamia placed her hands on her hips.

"When he gets out he is going to want to fight this." 

"He is going to need a new lawyer first," I said.

His current lawyer did not seem to be on our side at all. 

"Maybe Vincent knows someone who can help. You should ask him." 

Vincent probably did know someone who could help us out, but I do not think I even wanted to ask him for his help. What was I supposed to say? Please help my brother (who may be guilty) out of the crime we are not sure he committed? It did not sound too good.

"Do not bring it up to Vincent, please. Do not even mention Luke's name. And while I am at it, do not tell him I mentioned him having a brother. It kind of seemed like he did not want to talk about it," I told her, thinking back to that night.

His expression had mimicked my own when someone asked me about my brother. That kind of stop-talking-now look. 

Tamia tapped her chin.

"I will not say anything, but do you think it is like all those television shows where the brothers have to fight for the family business? Because that would be pretty intense." 

I had not thought about that. It would definitely make sense, especially if there was only to be one chief executive officer of the hotel. A family torn up by money - it would explain why Vincent was so dramatic.

"Huh. Maybe." 

"Then maybe the other brother will meet you and fall in love with you and they will end up fighting over you and the right to the hotel!" 

I grinned and shook my head.

"Okay, Tamia, leave your crazy ideas to your books." 

She rubbed her hands together, grinning evilly.

"A writer does in fact need to get her inspiration from somewhere." 

Just then my phone vibrated, and Tamia let out an 'aha!' and snapped her fingers. I flipped her off and picked my phone up from the counter and looked at it. Vincent Luciano flashed on my screen.

"I am sensing a trend here," I said as answered it. 

"You picked up." He sounded surprised. 

"I do believe that is what you are supposed to do when your phone rings," I retorted, even though I usually ignored phone calls and would end up texting the caller instead, but Vincent deserved to hear my sarcasm. 

"You are at work though," he pointed out. 

"If you knew that then why did you call?" 

"How are you feeling?" he said, bypassing my previous comment.

"Oh, um, I am fine."

His question threw me off guard and suddenly I felt like a jerk. Here I was being bitchy while he was actually being considerate for once.

"How are you?" I asked him as an attempt to show some decency.

"I left some Aspirin in the bag with your clothing, did you see it? I figured you would have a headache this morning." 

He left me Aspirin. That was surprisingly sweet. I was in such a rush to get to bed that I did not even empty my bag.

"I missed it. Did you go out to buy it? You know you did not have to. It was my choice to drink, and I accepted that have to deal with the consequences." 

"I carry it around with me," he told me, and I imagined him shrugging.

"I get headaches often." He continued.

"Oh. Well still, thank you," I said awkwardly.

He sounded weird today. Meek, almost. Maybe I had been a little too rude to him. I could not remember my exact words, so I was not sure, but it was definitely weird to have Vincent acting this way. Creepy, almost.

"Listen, Vincent, about last night—" 

"It is okay," he said immediately.

"I had been, for lack of better words, an a**hole. Do not apologize because you have not been doing anything wrong. It was me." 

I stared at the phone incredulously. Just what exactly had I said the night before? Whatever it was, it worked. I was impressed.

"Okay." 

"Can we move past this? I want this to work and not be awkward between us. I will do my best not to let my previous behavior repeat." 

"Yeah, sure."

Get past- me being completely plastered in front of him? No problem. Gladly. There was a moment of silence after that. I was beginning to think this was a habit of his.

Tamia stared at me hard, obviously listening to our conversation. I shooed her away. 

"Ah, that is right. Last night when I was leaving your apartment, I noticed that your lock on the front door was broken," he started again. 

My heart skipped a beat. Had he entered my apartment? I do not remember that.

"You went into my place?" I asked, trying to sound casual. 

"No, I just walked you to your door. I am talking about the main entrance. You should call your landlord to have it fixed. The area you live in is... unsettling." 

I relaxed a little bit. It was not like I was embarrassed about my apartment (okay maybe a little), but in Vincent's eyes, it would probably look like trash. I definitely did not want him entering it or making any comments about its state.

"I think she changed her number." I stated.

"Your landlord?" 

"Yeah, she does not really act like one. Hence the squatter living below me." I explained.

Vincent hummed.

"Maybe I can contact her." 

"No thank you," I said quickly.

I had the feeling Vincent contacting my landlord would most likely end up with me being kicked out.

"I do not mind, anyway. The squatter is not bothering me." I said and shrugged.

"Squatter aside, should not your landlord be making sure the upkeep of the apartment is good? It would not be a problem for me to contact her." 

"It is my problem and my place so I will fix it myself when the time comes," I told him.

Tamia raised her eyebrows and mouthed b*tch at me. 

He sighed.

"Why are you like that?" 

"Like what?" I asked him in confusion.

"Why do you refuse my help? Most people would gladly accept it." 

I shrugged and then realized he could not see me.

"I am like this because I have been on my own for a while, so I am used to doing things for myself and by myself. It is better than relying on other people for everything. Sorry if I sound rude." 

"You sound lonely." 

I really wanted to say, "what do you know?", but I refrained from it. He probably did not know. He was rich. He had a family. It was better just to steer the direction of the conversation away from myself. The less he knew the better. The last thing I wanted was any more pity from him.

"Is there any other reason you are calling?" 

Tamia shook her head at me, and I raised an eyebrow in a questioning way.

"You are so rude," she whispered. 

Her comment distracted me, and I only caught the end of Vincent's next sentence.

"I figured it would be the fastest way. I will come to pick you up and drop you off, of course," he finished. 

"For what? Sorry, Tamia was talking."

Despite not thinking I was being rude; I lightened my tone to sound more polite. 

"I said that you should come to my house because no one mentioned seeing us last night to my mother." 

His house?

Oh man, I did not want to see what type of mansion he lived in. He probably had security at the front gate. But it was part of my job so it was not like I could say no to him, especially after last night. Maybe he lived more modestly, which may not make me feel too out of place. Or, even better, maybe he had a Jacuzzi.

A Jacuzzi would be so worth it.

"I will come over, but if you want your mom to know so bad why didn't you just tell her?" 

"Because if I did she would not believe me if I told her I have a girlfriend right now and even if she did, she would want to meet you and then she would probably know something was up immediately, as I have said," he explained then he sucked in a quick breath of air.

"That was not meant to be condescending by the way."

 I nodded my head appreciatively. So, he was taking my words to heart. Good.

"It does not really make sense to me, but sure." I said dismissively.

"I know what I am doing does not make much sense to you, but I know what I am doing. We have to put off meeting my mom until she genuinely thinks I am interested in you and that is when we will go and meet her." Vincent explained further.

"And going over to your house helps this how?" I inquired.

"I never let people over to my house," he told me. "Aside from Liam. If I have you over, she will definitely think something is serious between us." 

That sounded sketchy.

"Why does not anyone go to your house?" 

"That is..." he trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

I wondered if it was something private that I should not have asked about.

"Well, actually I feel that way about my house too. So, I guess I should feel honored to be allowed to visit your mansion— house, I mean." I corrected myself and blushed as I prayed that he would not address the slip of my tongue.

"I will see you at six then." 

"I will drive there. What is the address?" 

"No, I will pick you up," he responded. 

I pursed my lips. I was a capable person.

"Why? I can drive there. Do not waste your gas." 

"Your car will give away your social status." 

I narrowed my eyes but did not say anything because he was right - my car was pretty darn beat up - but I still could not help but feel a bit insulted. 

"No offense," he added after a moment. He was learning, albeit slowly. 

"Fine," I agreed in a mumble. 

"See you then," he said and promptly hung up. 

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and scowled.

"Dude sucks at goodbyes." Tamia patted my shoulder. "Sounds rough. So, what did he want? A hot hookup?" 

I rolled my eyes at her. Of course, she would assume something like that.

"I will be going over to his house, I guess." 

Her eyes grew wide.

"Wait, it is a hookup? I was just joking!" Tamia exclaimed and I chuckled.

"No," I said, waving my hand.

"He is weird. I do not really know. I feel like he is afraid of his mom or something, but isn't he too old for that? I wonder what kind of person she is."

I wondered if I should be afraid of the kind of person she is. Anyone who looked down on the lesser fortunate could not really receive any respect from me and judging by Vincent, his mom could not be too different about it. She was probably worse. 

"Do you think he has a Jacuzzi?" Tamia asked excitedly. 

I broke out of my reverie and grinned. I knew there was a reason for Tamia being my best friend, aside from the fact I did not have any other friends.

"I guess we will find out."

After I finished up at the register, I grabbed my stuff and made my way home. Once I was at home, I was once again facing the dilemma that all my clothing was old and baggy. I debated wearing the dress I had worn last night decided against it because I did not want to wear dirty clothing. Which left me with a pair of jeans and a long sNathanielve shirt, my usual attire. I do not think it mattered this time since I was just going to his house— it isn't like I am going to be meeting anyone. Hopefully. 

The minute I saw a car pull down my street I rushed out of my apartment and locked it behind me. As I hurried down the stairs I looked at the apartment below me and was surprised to see a couple of squatters hanging out instead of the usual woman. A couple of them stared at me and a couple waved. I waved back a little awkwardly. One squatter was fine but five? Our landlord was going to notice eventually, and I was not sure how comfortable I felt with all the locks in this place being shoddy..

Shaking my head, I exited the main door. I would figure that out later. I headed over to Vincent's black BMW and slipped into the passenger's side.

"Hi," I greeted him. I noticed that once again he was dressed in dark jeans and a button up. Must be his favorite type of outfit. 

Vincent turned to me, frowning.

"Are you not afraid?" He asked.

"Of what?" I asked him in confusion.

"Diseases." 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I have been living there for a while and I am okay so I am sure I will be fine." 

Vincent seemed disturbed.

"Are you sure we do not have to get you tested?" Vincent asked and I immediately glared at him.

"No, I said I will be fine." I spat.

"If you say so." 

"Where do you live? I need an address to give Tamia in case you decide to kidnap and rob me." 

"Cute," he said and pulled into the street.

"I live close by." 

Close by? What was his idea of close by? Because he seemed to think New York City was also close by. Hopefully, I would not be in the car with him for a long period of time again. 

"Please do not get offended," Vincent started, and I braced myself, "but do you not have a sense of style, or can you just not afford one?" 

I shrugged. He got me there. He did have a point. My clothing sucked. Even I knew that.

"A little of both, but in my defense my sense of style is expensive." 

"If I give you extra money would you consider it charity?" 

"Most likely. I would not accept it." 

He nodded.

"I figured you would not because even though you are working for me, so I am just paying you for services." 

I cringed.

"Can you not say it like that? You make me sound like a prostitute. Being paid to date you is bad enough." 

"If it is benefiting then both of us then I do not see the problem. If you do not like the business comparison I could compare it to a father giving his child money—" 

"Please do not do that," I interjected.

I did not want that picture in my head.

"I can buy some stuff with the money you already gave me, do not worry about it. I will not buy clothes from Target either."

I was thinking that maybe I would check out New York & Company or Express. I usually liked their clothing, but I could not afford it. To Vincent, they were probably like Target, though but it is whatever. He did not have to know where I bought it from as long as it looked good. 

"My mom will most likely call if she sees us on the camera entering my house, so do not enter right away." 

I waited for him to elaborate, but when he did not, I turned toward him and furrowed my eyebrows.

"Okay and that is not supposed to sound weird? Why is she watching the cameras at your house? Is it your house or her house?" 

"It is my house," he said, sounding a little offended.

"I paid for it myself. She can get into the security." 

"Then why is she invading your privacy like that?" 

"She has done it my whole life. That is why I need you. She controls so much of my life that I do not want her to control my love life too." 

I nodded because that was understandable.

"You do know that you have to sign something to get legally married, right? Just do not sign it when the time comes." 

Vincent's lips curved up a little as if he found what I said funny.

"She has ways of making me do what she wants. Right now, it is taking away my house and my car." 

"You said that your house and your car is yours. She cannot take them. If she does, call the cops and report a robbery or something." 

"You clearly have not met my mom," he responded, letting out a dry chuckle.

"She can and will do whatever she wants. She still owns the hotel. I could be cut off and kicked out." 

"Yeah and then you would have to do what everyone else has to do which is to work their way into a good position in the world," I retorted before I could stop myself.

Vincent's faced fell flat and I grimaced inwardly.

"I am sorry. I should not have said that." 

He shook his head.

"No worries. I have said so many things I should not have to you as well. From now on we will both try our best to do better with what we say to each other." 

"I just cannot comprehend it," I told him.

"How old are you again? Thirty?" I asked him. 

"I am twenty-five," he muttered. "I do not even look close to thirty." 

I shrugged and he narrowed his eyes.

"Still. You are a young adult; she should not be interfering." I lamented.

"That is exactly what I am saying." 

"You are scared shitless of her, aren't you? Either that or of becoming penniless. Actually, I am going to go for both." 

Vincent glanced at me, his expression a little taken aback.

"Are you still getting back at me from last night?" 

I smiled a little.

"No, I am just being blunt this time." 

"Well, for your information, I am not afraid of becoming poor. I have been working since I was fifteen and I know how to save and invest money." 

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief.

"You have worked at the hotel since you were fifteen?" 

Vincent nodded.

"My mother made me do odd jobs to learn the hotel better. Although to this day I still do not understand how washing dishes could make me a better chief executive officer (CEO)." 

"Understanding the workers?" I guessed.

It was weird to imagine Vincent doing menial jobs like washing dishes. I figured he had just graduated college and got whatever position he wanted.

Vincent made a noncommittal noise and pulled down a side street that led to a small cul-de-sac surrounded by trees. I turned my attention out the window and thought it was odd that there were not any houses on the street until my eyes fell across the house at the furthest edge of the cul-de-sac. I immediately knew it was Vincent's house. He seemed the type to want to be the only house on the street. Amazingly though, it was not some gigantic mansion. It was not small by any means, and it definitely looked like someone who had money owned it, but it actually did seem modest.

Most of the house stood two stories tall with the exception of one side that was only one story, with dark brown paneling complemented by a deep jade gable roof. With the surrounding woods, it gave off a picturesque feel. The one thing it had that I was expecting was an iron gate surrounding the property. Vincent hit a button on the roof of his car and the gates opened allowing us entrance. He drove down his driveway that was lined with cute little shrubs and then came to a stop right in front of the house and shut off the engine.

"Unpretentious, isn't it?" he commented. 

"If you overlook the fact that a twenty-five-year-old bought this, then yes," I answered and chuckled.

The house was beautiful, but I did not want to say much until I saw the inside. He could still have a golden bathtub. 

"Built, actually," he said and opened his door.

"Stay seated, I will get your door for you." 

My eyes widened.

"What? You built it?" I asked as soon as he pulled open my door.

I allowed him to help me out of the car. I figured he was putting on a show for his mom. 

"Not by myself. I hired contractors, of course but the design is my own. Wait until you see the inside," he responded, sounding proud of himself and a little excited. It was cute. I half expected him to be modest and act like his house was not a big deal.