I will possess your heart - Rhys Montrose X Reader

───Part 2.

When you woke up, the thunderstorm of headaches and nausea rocked your body, dehydration kicking in shortly after and a groan leaving your lips. Your body still felt far too tired, landing on your back was a chore that rivaled the tiresome aftermath of spending hours at work. A bottle of water and a glass on the nightstand to your right caught your attention, hands reaching for it and the head of the bed behind used to prop up your body in a sitting position.

As you down the water quickly, spotting some aspirin and ibuprofen next to it and taking both, the strangeness of the bedroom around you settled in. The strangeness of your whole situation.

Swearing beneath your breath at finding yourself in someone else's house, and hazy memories barely present, you notice a note on the nightstand. The handwriting was immaculate, each letter aligned by an invisible line and none far too big or too small.

"Had to go to work but I left you some water and painkillers behind. Feel free to stay if I'm not back by the time you wake up. Hope your hangover isn't too unbearable. - R."

The signature mocked you as you couldn't remember just exactly who you went home with, the name on the tip of your tongue but unwilling to roll down. It was sweet of him to leave note though, and you couldn't help the corners of your lip tugging upwards at the notion.

You stayed in bed a little longer, emptying the water bottle with ease, deciding only then that it was time to move from the tempting bed with its silk cushions and blanket that you wanted to curl up in until you died.

The dress from yesterday still clung to your body, relief washing you as you didn't find anything odd with it and your body that would've signaled that he'd taken advantage of your blackout. You did notice, however, that the makeup Lucille had put on you was gone, no traces of it left behind as you run your hands down your face.

Once again you couldn't help but smile as the vague memory of 'R' gently running a cloth to remove it slithered it's way into your now sober-ish mind.

Fuck, none of your exes had ever done something like that, and you cursed the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered happily at the sweet and simple gesture.

With a heavy heart, and far too many attempts at getting up from the mattress, you clutched your head, the bright lights of the day doing nothing to ease it, and made your way out of the room.

Your eyes widened as you finally noticed just how fancy this place was, from the simple gadgets and furniture that cost more than you'd make in a year, to the immaculate and dust-free surroundings that screamed of frequent visits from a paid house-maid.

Nervously checking the living room and kitchen you found yourself in, you were glad to find them empty, silence engulfing the place to your relief. The enigmatic, and clearly rich, man hadn't come home yet, to your luck.

Finding your way to the entrance, you could swear this place was only something found on Pinterest boards and we heart it collections of people that dreamed of being millionaires one day. You noticed a row of pictures lining the hallway leading to it, and your jaw dropped as you stopped to examining them, realizing just whose house you found yourself in.