Ophelia.

05. O, The Analyst.

Ophelia Samson

The rest of the night was a dream. It was amazing and crazy all in one, a fairytale, really. I couldn't believe my luck and I thanked my lucky stars everyday for the long weeks afterwards for the life that I was living.

I had decided on signing the contract a few days later. I penned the last page, marking it with my signature, agreeing to all the terms and ticking all the right boxes. I remember ripping the last page out of the paper-back book and walking to Mr Salvatore's office to find that he had left without notice. I put the piece of paper on his desk in a place obvious enough so that it would be the first thing he saw upon his arrival.

Days turned into weeks and mere weeks had turned into long months, and I had come to realise that he was extremely independent and completing his work was something he did by himself, and I respected his space.

No one ever knew when he would come back, apparently it was a common thing with Mr Salvatore. He never disclosed any of this type of information, but from his own brother, Mizo, he had informed me that Mr Salvatore was doing an excellent job in Vancouver, Canada. His deals were closing in seamlessly and there was a huge increase in the profit from his clientele. 

I had heard just recently that he was also traveling in and out of Italy, but it had never been confirmed.

Five long months passed living at the estate and I hadn't even completed or started any jobs—not that I was given any of importance. I haven't even seen Mr Salvatore since the night of the barbecue. So, I haven't had the chance to really 'work' with him. Wherever he was. We didn't even talk after I helped close a deal with Myrtle Von Duke. It was laughable how confused I was by this, actually. I would think that he was extremely embarrassed about what had happened during the private show on the first night we met. Somehow I would think he was avoiding me. Which would be absolutely outrageously stupid, but it felt that way.

I had to stop myself from overanalysing every situation, it would be the exact reason of my downfall. Somehow I felt like I knew exactly why he-

"—that just sounds far too miserable to hold any substantial amount of truth," Hosea said, pretending to read from an upside-down book. "Don't you think?"

I was lying down on a sky blue yoga mat, my back pressed to the floor, facing the ceiling. There was a cold flannel pressed over my eyes, and to be completely honest, I was doing my best to drone out Hosea's voice and relentless questions.

"Mmm," I hummed with a low voice it almost sounded like a vibration, neither agreeing or disagreeing. This had been my answer to Hosea's myriad of questions for the past hour. We had finished our workout an hour ago, why we were lying down on the floor of the yoga room, I don't know.

"You're not even listening to me," He whined like a child.

"Mm-hmm," I hummed in a different pattern.

I heard Hosea huff and plop back onto his yoga mat. I had forced Hosea, in all his brawny glory, to do yoga with me for at least one hour. He is as stiff as a board. I couldn't get him to touch his toes for me because apparently, 'men don't bend certain ways'.

I peeled the towel off of my face and lifted myself up. "Hosea, why don't you go and see Stefanie?" I suggested.

Stefanie was a Vixen that Hosea had taken a strong liking towards. He would beg me to go to the outdoor pools because he knew she was always there at ten in the morning on thursdays. If I went somewhere, it only meant that Hosea would follow. Thus, began his weird and not-so-subtle advances towards Stefanie. Everytime I attempted to ask him what his deal was with her, he would brush it off. But I knew better.