Bare Her Soul (James Patrick March x reader )

Four

It was midday when you returned from your run, the bare skin of your shoulders and tummy slick with sweat. The hotel lobby was a stark contrast to the sunny day outside and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the new darkness. You headed to the gold plated staircase to finish off your workout in good order. You had just climbed the first flight when you saw him.

James was standing on the other side of the lonely bar, he had his back to you but he was indistinguishable in that pinstripe suit. He had a pipe in hand, waving it every so often to underscore whatever he was talking John's ear off about. The handsome police officer you had met briefly at the party looked different that day. His tired eyes were brimmed with red, his hair was dishevelled and you noticed that his clothes were crinkled, as though he had slept in them.

He nodded along with every word James uttered, and realising neither of them had seen you yet, you ducked behind one of the pillars.

"Yes, yes I did say that"  you just about made out James' words "but patterns my dear fellow, are sometimes necessary in order to make great artwork take form. Just look at the interior of this hotel for instance!"

Their conversation was clearly coming to an end, with John looking utterly exhausted and James guiding him to the elevator.

You watched John disappear behind the metal doors, and ducked further when James turned in your direction. He wore a satisfied smile, humming to himself a tune that you didn't recognise, but gave no indication that he'd spotted you.

He moved with a skip in his step, tucking his pipe into the pocket of his blazer and picking up a newspaper that had been left on the bar. Your eyes followed as he made his way to one of the low-lit booths against the far wall, and took a seat in the plush armchair.

You were embarrassed to be seen by him in your sportswear. Which was ridiculous of course, the man wasn't actually from the freaking twenties. He was so damn convincing though that your marl leggings and sports bra felt almost shameful in his presence. You chewed your lip as he became nose-deep in the newspaper.

It had been a couple of days since his party, and you hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. You supposed that he had better things to do than loiter around the place as you had done. Nevertheless, his mysterious and charming ways had featured in your thoughts more than once since. You tugged the scrunchy from your hair and shook it around your shoulders -for at least a little cover, and quickly ran your fingers through the length.

Exiling yourself from the beam, you paced across the room, fixing your eyes on the next flight of stairs in an effort to pretend you hadn't seen him yet.

"Mr March?" you faked surprise, stopping before his table.

The corner of his lip twitched as though he was battling a smile, but he hadn't looked up yet.

"Good heavens, when is this ever going to end?" he spoke to himself, clearly at whatever he was reading.

He looked up at you then "ah miss Y/N! What a pleasure it is to see you again. I must say, our dance the other night was lovely. I haven't forgotten it!"

"Hey" you smiled widely at his unmistakeable accent, unable to stop yourself "me neither. So...when is what going to end?"

"The ten commandments killings" he sighed, setting the paper down on the table.

"The what?"

"Oh, you aren't aware? I'm sure that's for the best. These events are too wretched for a lady's ears!"

You rolled your eyes and bent forward to snatch up the newspaper.

Your eyes scanned the first lines "most recent victims were the editors of a gossip site, the murderer tore out some of the victims' tongues..." - your voice dropped in volume- "whilst nailing the others to their desks..."

"I told you dear - despicable stuff! I do hope John catches the perpetrator soon."

"Wait, John as in - John staying here?"

There was a gleam in his eye as he replied "yes, but the man's a great detective, I have full faith in him to get the job done."

Geez, poor John, no wonder the guy looked so disgruntled!

James rose from his seat, and stepped towards you. He placed a large hand on your shoulder and you shifted slightly.

"Nothing for you to worry about anyway dear, you're safe in here. I have some business to attend to now, but I would like to see you again this evening. Will you come to my suite for dinner? Miss Evers is a marvelous cook."

Was this James' subtle way of asking you on a date?

You shouldn't even be toying with the idea so soon after a breakup, should you? This time was supposed to be about you afterall.

But it could simply be a bit of fun...good conversation and perhaps a little harmless flirting. James was so different than the boys in your town...

"Yeah, I'd like that, what time works for you?" you asked casually.

The grin plastered his face "splendid! Seven-thirty. And you'll find me in room seventy-eight."

<>

"So...you want to know if he really is from the nineteen-twenties....?" Liz drawled, cocking a perfect eyebrow at you.

It was just the two of you at the bar that evening, Liz pouring you a glass of orange juice, and you pulling at and fiddling with the silver bracelet on your wrist.

You obviously had no idea what to wear for dinner with the time capsule that was James March. You'd settled on your eyelet-lace, cream dress. It was cap sleeved and showed enough thigh to be considered modern. Paired with your black alice headband, Liz said you reminded her of a China doll -a foolish one.

"Well obviously he isn't! But...I don't know, the way he acts...it feels real. I get the feeling it is for him. Like maybe he was brought up that way?"

Liz sighed "I'd say that's probably bang on, love. But I still don't think you should go."

"And you still haven't told me why" you pointed out.

"It's not my place to, and be sure if I did it'd get back to him. Really the last thing I want is an earful from that insufferable man. But you've chosen to get the hots for him, so here we are."

"I don't have 'the hots' for him."

"Yeah, and I don't wish I had a Prada bag and a vagina like Gwyneth Paltrow" she scoffed, pushing a glass of liquor across the bar "you're a terrible liar. Here, you'll need it."

You rolled your eyes and pushed the drink away. If you had taken dating advice from your friends before you'd still be with your ex, you weren't going to start now.

A quick glance at the clock told you it was almost seven, and you hopped off the bar stool.

"Any final pointers?" you threw back at Liz with a playful smirk as you made your leave.

"Don't die doll-face."