5. The Golden Haired Girl

448 34 7
                                    

A/n: switching to first person lol

"Conditions?" He asks me as he leans against the oak counter. The deep black suit jacket he wears is clearly tailored to fit him perfectly and it's doing a amazing job at emphasizing his large biceps. The material strains against him and hugs him nicely. Quickly I snap my eyes up to his deep green ones, now realizing I was staring for too long.

"Yes," I reply simply as I look away from his scorching gaze. His eyes burn into me as he watches me intently waiting for me to elaborate.

He impatiently taps his index finger against the glossy wood then purses his lips. "And what would those conditions be?" His voice is hard and gruff, I have to hold myself back from letting out a squeak of pleasure at the sound of his voice. I think he notices because of the smirk that grows on his face.

I scowl. "Well, first off, I don't want you to be spending any of your money on me during this tr-"

"Yeah, no." He interrupts flatly. "I'll spend whatever money I want on you." His blank stare is studied on me.

"No you won't." I stubbornly reply back and stomp my foot.

He looks at me with both irritation and amusement gleaming in his dark eyes. "Oh yes I will. Besides this is my last few years of my life, I'll do what I please." He deadpans. I huff in annoyance and roll my eyes, when I do I hear him lowly growl, "no rolling your eyes, missy." He demands, I almost laugh when I think he's joking but with one look at him I can see the seriousness radiating from him.

"I'm the one willingly granting you company on this trip," I lean over the counter a bit to seem more intimidating, "so I'll make whatever rules I want." I emphasize the 't'. "Like, no spending money on me, no treating me like a baby and no touching."

Another growl is emitted from him as his harshly bites on his lip. "Actually," his voice grows deeper then I ever thought possible, "you never had a choice. You were and are going to come with me regardless of what you say, I just wanted you to feel like you had some control." He smirks cockily.

"Are you serious right now?!" I ask loudly, too loudly. Other nurses that pass by give me judgemental looks that instantly makes me regret my volume.

"Dead serious," he states with a straight face.

I step back from the counter, "sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave before I call security." I bite.

"Wow, look at you trying to kick me out of the hospital that I own." He smiles viscously. This person seems completely unlike the man I had met only a few days ago. He was soft and seemed caring, this one is cold and demanding.

I stay quite for a few, knowing that I'm about to regret what I say next, "now I know why everyone hates you." I whisper. Immediately the smile drops from his face and it seems as if a switch goes off from within him. His features grow even colder and hard.

But what he says after is what really hurts me, "I actually thought you were different." Then he turns away and exits through the doors I was hoping he'd enter through all day long.

I screwed up.
.
.
.
.
The week goes by painfully slow and dim. It's been pouring rain and been freezing. It's spring time and yet here it is with a dark grey sky. Now I usually like the rain, but this is just too much for me.

Somehow the absence of a man I've only talked to twice, has me feeling like I just want this painful world to end...

No! No! No Josephine! You can't go back to those thoughts again! My conscious yells at me. Scrutinizing me for the thoughts I worked so hard to erase from my mind.

I need to apologize to him, but how? He's probably somewhere in France by now drinking expensive whiskey and getting lap dances. Suddenly a idea pops in my head.

I'll just simply look at his information and send a letter to his residence in hopes he can see it some day before he... go's. Now I know looking at his information for this intent is against the rules, but at this point it's all I feel like I can really do.

I grab a blank sheet of paper and a black ink pen and begin my letter of apology.

'Dear Mr. Finnes-Tiffin,

What I said the other day was unacceptable. I know that. And I am deeply sorry for my words of hurt and anger.
I understand that what I said was most likely a sore topic for you, people truly don't know you and yet they judge you.
Just like I did that day, I got angered and said something I knew was going to upset you like you did me, but I went too far.
Again I'm sorry and I hope you'll forgive me. I'd still gladly accompany you on your journey to live the rest of your days to the fullest.
But at the same time, my conditions still stand. I hope if you see this, we can come to some sort of agreement.

Yours truly,
Jo:)'

I take a deep breath and set the pen to the side with a small 'click' when it hits the counter top. Next I grab a unused envelope and place my folded letter in it and write all the details on the front that is needed, then place in in the hospitals out going mail.
.
.
.
.
Two weeks later...

I sigh loudly as I flip back onto my ratty couch in my dim living room after getting home from my long fourteen hour shift. Today was a especially hard day, I had to clean up puke twice and I was spit on by a dementia patient. Not fun.

With my toes I pry of my tennis shoes and rub my feet together, loving the feeling of my feet finally being free. After laying on the couch for a few minutes trying not to fall asleep, I force myself to get up and get changed for bed.

Once I am dressed in a large Twilight shirt with only silk black panties on underneath, I hop in bed, making myself comfortable. But once that happens a loud knock comes from my front door. Making me groan loudly.

I just got comfortable! Ignoring it I continue to lay in bed hoping whoever it is goes away.

They don't.

They continue to bang on the door like they are the FBI. Hesitantly I climb out of my bed and room and walk to the front door. I look through the peep hole to only see a mop of brown hair.

Wondering who it is, I swing the door open to be greeted with blazing green eyes.

"Hello, love," he whispers and holds up my letter. He seems to be out of breath and smiles lightly. "Get dressed, we got places to experience." He tells me as his eyes shamelessly rake over my barely dressed body. "Though you could just stay in that," I hear him whisper as I walk back to my bedroom.

Note from author❤️:

As always, thoughts?

You know you love me xoxo,
Zoë

She Loved Him and He DiedWhere stories live. Discover now