The Ache Between Us

Chapter Thirteen - Iris

"I have an appointment. It's under Karimi." I repeated to the security guy at the gate, who looked me up, then down, then all over again.

He was in a navy blue uniform with the word Security in block letters on the back and his name stitched on the front, Francis. He was tall, built, his face as emotionless as the guy he worked for, with a squeaky bald head and eagle eyes. I watched him go back inside his little security box and speak on the phone, his eyes watching me the entire time.

Finally, the gate beeped open, and he ushered me inside. He pulled out a handheld metal scanner and ran the device up and down, then swirled it over to my back and behind. I rolled my eyes at the stupid precautions and gripped the strap of my purse closer to my chest.

"Are you fucking done?" I hissed.

Ignoring me, he put the scanner away and pointed to the driveway. It was miles long, and if I squinted, I could see a house on the top of the hill. Before I could even think about how long it would take me to walk there, a black car made its way towards me.

It stopped right where I was, and the security guard opened the back door for me, and I stepped inside. The car was empty, and the driver didn't speak or even spare a glance at me as he drove towards the house. Five minutes later, the car came to a stop, and my hand touched the car handle, but the driver was faster than me.

He stepped out of the car, made his way around, and opened it for me. He was gesturing for me to step outside. The door closed as soon as my heels made contact with the driveway's gravel. I knew Rafael was rich; I mean, he played for a legitimate soccer team and won every goddamn game he's played.

Just like he's always dreamed of doing.

I swallowed nervously as I looked around the estate Rafael lived in; the driveway itself was bigger than my entire apartment.

There was a rustic three-tier water fountain in the middle of said driveway. The majestic villa itself was something else, something I've only seen in magazines or photos.

My eyes wandered over the two iron glass doors where the light from inside illuminated, making the house shine. The two-story house was made of white-painted brick and stucco.

I knocked on the door to be greeted by who I assumed was Miguel, his secretary. We spoke on the phone yesterday night. He stood there, all aloof and pristine, with an IPad in his hand, along with his phone and a Bluetooth in his ear.

He was skinny but tall, dressed professionally in a suit that made me feel quite underdressed; snug jeans and an off-the-shoulder cashmere beige sweater with black heels.

"Ms. Karimi." He greeted, "I'm Miguel. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

I shook his hand, "Call me Iris." I stepped foot inside, and the door closed.

I think I gasped at the dramatic entryway that led to a sweeping, curved staircase with a golden empire chandelier hanging from the ceiling. His house was beautiful, from the high ceilings to the perfect limestone floors to the antique paintings and decorations on the walls.

So expensive.

I stood there in an outfit that cost me fifty bucks in a house that probably cost a hundred million dollars, and I felt tiny, something insignificant like a speck of dust on his shoulder.

"Ms. Karimi, if you'll follow me towards his study," Miguel spoke, and I nodded my head as I followed him up the marble spiral staircase and down the red-carpeted halls and to the left wing of the house that led to his study.

He knocked on the closed doors twice before opening them, leading me in first. Rafael's study was extravagant. The room was spacious enough to host a gala, but everything that filled it was precisely where it was supposed to be.