Falling into Place - Forbidden Heart Series

Epilogue

One Week Later.

As I walked up to the large warehouse - looking building, I prayed that this worked out. Even though I've been staying at a pretty cheap hotel this past week, it was eating into my savings. If I wasn't able to find somewhere else to stay, I was going to end up homeless on the streets of Paris. Not really why I wanted to come here.

But at least this rental seemed legit. When the barista who made my coffee every morning told me about the deal, he explained that it was owned by some wealthy businessman who was away a lot. Apparently, he had a studio-type loft that he was willing to rent for a decent price. Thankfully, it was a price I could afford.

I just hoped he liked me enough to let me rent it. To be honest, I wasn't the best applicant. After all, I ran all the way here -- well, flew -- from the US to escape my tragic reality. I had no job. No references. I knew absolutely no one here. Yeah, I doubt he was going to approve shit for me.

I actually might end up homeless on the streets of Paris.

Pushing those thoughts away from mind mind, I opened the large door to the warehouse and went inside. It was actually pretty nice. It reminded me of an art studio. There were blank canvases leaning against one wall and an easel in the far corner. Maybe the owner was some kind of art dealer or something.

Glancing around the vast space, I saw a note taped to the wall by the stairs.

Loft For Rent - 2nd Floor.

I ascended the stairs, excited and hopeful that this would work out and I might actually find a place to live. Maybe this guy would take pity on me or something. I really didn't have any other option. I only paid for two more days at my hotel.

The loft was quite large for a studio. There were partisans spread out that gave it some privacy. There was a king-sized bed by the window, with a nightstand beside it. On the far wall was a small kitchen area with a table with two chairs. There was a five-drawer dresser. No closet. And I assumed the door to the right was the bathroom.

Not really what I was used to, but it was perfect for what I needed. And the huge floor to ceiling window that overlooked the city wasn't a bad bonus either.

I glanced at my watch. Where the hell was this guy? With my luck, he was probably going to be a no - show. Or maybe --

"Well, well, well. As I live and breathe."

A chill shot down my spine when I heard that voice. My eyes slid shut and I mentally cursed out the gods of fate.

"Are you going to actually acknowledge me or what?"

Finally, I turned around -- and instantly regretted it. He looked even better than I remembered. His hair was longer. His smile was way more charming now than before. And those eyes. . .

"Ollie," I said finally. "I didn't. . . you were supposed. . . what are you doing here?"

"Jeez, Lovette. You always this articulate?"

I was so relieved that he called me by my last name this time. I rather him call me that than Guinevere. Hearing him use my real name did things to my body. Things I didn't need to think remember or think about right now. Especially with him so close.

I glanced at the bed again. Shit. I really needed to get out of here.

"Where are you doing here?" I snapped even though I knew it was a stupid question. And one that I just asked him. But I didn't know what else to say.

"I'm pretty sure we both know why I'm here," he quipped. "Question is. . . why are you here?"

A sharp pain pierced my heart. But I refused to let myself think about the truth that I was running from. The reality that I wanted nothing to do with anymore.

"The 'why' doesn't matter," I replied. "All you need to know is that I need to rent this space. So where is the guy I need to talk to about that?"

Ollie leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. "You're looking at him."

My eyes darted around the loft. "You own this? I thought you were a painter."

"I am a painter. And I'm not the owner," he clarified. "I work for him. He's away on business and asked me to interview all the applicants."

"So, it's up to you whether or not I have a place to live?" I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips. What I said was going to have Ollie asking me question. Ones that I had no interest in answering. "Ignore what I said." I turned and headed for the stairs. "I'm just gonna go."

I was just going to have to figure something else out. Maybe I could rent a cheaper hotel. Or maybe someone had a room for rent or something.

"Jamie, wait."

I stopped instantly. Dammit. My body and brain were definitely not on the same page where Ollie was concerned. Slowly I turned towards him and waited to see what he was going to say so I could get the hell out of here.

He pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps in my direction. His concerned expression had me regretting that I ever heard about this loft for rent in the first place. Or decided that Paris was the place I would be running away to. I should have known he was here. He was a painter for crying out loud.

Ollie stopped in front of me and reached into his pocket. "Here you go."

Looking down I saw a set of keys in his hand. "What's that?"

There was that sexy half-smirk of his again. "They're called keys, Lovette. They open doors and other things."

"I know that, Ollie. Why are you giving them to me?"

"You need a place to stay, right? The loft is yours."

I eyed the keys. I really wanted to snatch them from his hand and go check out of that horrible hotel I was staying in, but it wasn't that simple. "You didn't even check if I could afford this place or ask me any questions."

He shrugged one shoulder. "I trust you, Jamie. It's all yours."

After a brief hesitation, I took the keys and stared at them. This felt way too easy. But I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

"Thank you." I murmured.

"No problem," he said before heading towards the stairs. "Rent is due on the first of the month. It's a month to month basis, so you can leave whenever. All utilities included."

I nodded absently before something occurred to me. "Wait! How do I pay the owner? Will he be back soon?"

Ollie was halfway down the stairs when stepped to look back at me over his shoulder. "You pay me, then I give it to him when he returns."

"How will I get ahold of you."

That all too familiar smirk of his had me regretting my question and fearing his answer.

"I live downstairs, Jamie. There's a master bedroom in the back of the studio." Descending the stairs, he called out, "if you need anything, you know where to find me."

Once Ollie was out of my sight, I finally let myself freak out a little. I was glad that I had a place to live, but this was not a part of my running away plan. I was supposed to be here alone. Away from people that I knew while I tried to figure things out.

Me and Ollie living in the same building with only a set of stairs separating us? This was not good. Very, very, very not good.