Serendipity

Chapter 12

Elodie

How the hell did I end up here? Sure, my initial plan wasn't foolproof but I'd never have guessed it would go off the rails quite so much. I mean, me working for Marino? Come on!

The only thing I hate more than that proposal is the fact that I'm considering it. He made it sound so easy, like he's the only choice to begin with.

And maybe he is. I've been so busy planning my revenge and taking care of my siblings that I barely even thought ahead but he's right, isn't he? I can't go to college. Can never get my Master's or Doctorate degree and become a psychologist.

I'll end up miserable and alone and-

I slap myself, forcing myself to stop it before I start spiraling. I'll be fine. I mean, it's what, 12 years until the twins graduate from high school? I can keep us afloat until then. My dad left us money. And college isn't that expensive.

Yeah, I can't even sell myself that bullshit. Education is expensive, not to mention medical care and rent and whatever else there is. And I definitely won't let my siblings fall into foster care.

Am I honestly considering this?

A knock on the door interrupts me. I wait, assuming the person will simply enter like the doctor did earlier but this time, nothing happens. Whining internally, I get to my feet and open the door to reveal a middle-aged man.

He smiles pleasantly but it's not enough to overshadow the size of his body. My guard goes up. I'm injured and have no doubt that he could finish me if he tried to. So far, he doesn't look threatening though.

Sus.

"Evening, Madame. My name is George. Mr. Marino wants me to lead you to your new chambers," he tells me in a thick British accent. I eye him skeptically but when he gestures towards the elevator, saying we need to go up three floors, I find myself following. If only because I've never been to a thirty-third floor.

How could a building possibly have to be this tall anyway? I wouldn't be surprised if most of it was empty. Raffaele strikes me as a pretentious guy.

"Here you go. My number is on speed dial," George tells me after we've entered the third room down the hall on the thirtieth floor, motioning to the old phone hanging from the wall. "Don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."

Someone call queen Elisabeth the first. I think she lost her butler.

I take a closer look at the room I'm in, furrowing my eyebrows a little. "Wait, is this a hotel?" I ask before I can stop myself. The made bed, the phone on the wall, the dressers and door which probably leads to a bathroom, it all looks so orderly.

"Yes, ma'am. Or, well, the first twenty floors are. Twenty-one to twenty-nine are the offices for the architects and the top seven are for Marino's personal use as well as his employees. Any other questions?" he asks politely.

I shake my head, confused out of my mind. It only worsens when George leaves and I take a closer look around, noting the fully stocked closet, as well as the fact that my shampoos and lotions and whatnots are all set up in the bathroom.

It could only have been hours since Raffaele proposed his stupid idea down in the infirmary. How the hell did he prepare all this so quickly? I know how he knows my size and products; his men have been scavenging my house for days. That doesn't make this any less messed up though.

Letting myself drop onto the massive bed in the middle of the room and in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, I start wondering if maybe I hit my head harder than expected. Maybe I'm hallucinating or dreaming or in a coma, even. Those options all seem more likely than that this is the truth.

I groan, rolling over to bury my face in the sheets as the throbbing in my head intensifies to the point where blinking hurts. Who thought it was a good idea to spring all this onto the girl with a concussion?

And not even five minutes of throwing myself a pity party, that bloody phone on the wall starts ringing, the sound obnoxious enough to make me rush to my feet to pick it up.

"Yes?" I grumble only to be greeted with a laugh from the other person. I roll my eyes when I recognize the sound. "What do you want?" I ask Raffaele.

"Well, I wasn't expecting a parade but a thank you would be in order, don't you think?" he asks.

"No. State your business," I reply curtly. God, the throbbing behind my eyes is really not helping my temper.

"So formal. Just wanted to check in on how you like your new room," he says innocently.

"Cut the crap, we both know that's not it. If you want an answer to your shitty proposal, I don't have one for you."

"So rude. But I figured as much. That's why I brought in something to move this process along. A little motivation, you could say." I tense, hating the way that sounds.

"What did you do?" I ask.

"Meet me in the lobby and I'll show you," he says before quickly hanging up. That bitch. And here I was looking forward to an actual shower instead of the wet towels I got to use while I was in the cellar. I feel nasty, my hair's a mess, and don't even get me started on my clothes.

But I guess that needs to wait.

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What could possibly happen... lmao

Hope y'all like the story so far and have a good day<3