I Trust You

I'm Rembrandt Van Rijn

"You!" Molinda shouts, shoving the door open and bulldozing into the hotel room.

The young boy screeches as he throws his ski mask onto the floor and jumps towards the window.Quickly glancing back he shoves the window open and throws himself out of it, his head butting into the round bush outside his window.

Molinda grabs at his dangling converse as half his body hangs outside.

A small breeze swirls around the room as Molinda heaves him out the window and throws him onto the floor where he lands with an thud and begins to crawl towards the bed.

"Hey, hey." Molinda shouts, pulling him by his collar. "You have a lot of explaining to do, buddy."

Grace peels herself away from the door, forcing her tight grip on the door to loosen.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you cheat scumbag?" Molinda sneers, shaking the poor boy.

Grace eyes flicker to the floor then Molinda as she looks at her in confusion.

Cheat?

The boy's alarmed blue eyes simmer down as he ruefully eyes Molinda.

"What are you talking about woman? Cheat on who?"

Molinda stares at the ceiling for a brief moment before her mouth forms a small 'o'.

"Sorry got lost in the moment." She softly giggles, rolling her eyes. "What did he do again?"

"Sabotage..." Grace drawls, rubbing her neck as small chips of black paint land on the carpeted floor.

"Oh, yes." Molinda nods, shoving both her hands onto the boy again her face dangerously close to his. "Why'd you do it? Why are you sabotaging the restaurant?"

The boy's eyes harden as a cold, unseen armour covers his face.

"I don't owe you an explanation, woman."

"But you owe me one." Comes a deep, dark voice from the door.

All eyes move towards the door where Vincent leans against it his arms crossed as he gives the blue-eyed boy his most coldest look yet. Pushing himself off the door, Vincent saunters towards us.

"Mr.Maxwell," The boy murmurs. "what a shame it is to finally meet you."

"Looks like we agree on something." Vincent places a hand on Molinda and she lets go, the boy falling onto the bed as she takes a step back.

A heavy silence settles over them as Vincent and the boy shoot daggers at each other. Grace's toes curl up when the boy spits on the floor, a sneer on his face.

"I am Jason Rembrandt Van Rijn and I have every right to do what I've done and more." He shouts, thrashing on the bed.

"You're a descendant of the famous painter and his wife, Saskia." Grace whispers.

"Yes, I am and I'm sick of you vile people." He groans, attempting to stand from the bed only to be pushed back down by Vincent.

"But you work here, don't you?" Grace asks, her memory finally jogged as she remembers the young boy who had welcomed her into the hotel with a tray of champagne. "You're the doorman...doorboy?"

"I'm glad my face is so memorable." He harshly whispers. "But I guess it's helped me get away with a whole lot more than sabotage."

"What are you on about?" Vincent asks, rolling his sleeves up.

"You think I've been sabotaging the restaurant only. Ha. Think again." The boy throws his head back, tears rolling down his cheeks as her thrashes around the bed; loud, boisterous laughs escaping his lips.

"Looks like a grown man throwing a tantrum." Molinda whispers into Grace's ear.

"Yeah."

"So, why'd you do it? Aren't artists passive people? Shouldn't you be in some dingy, dark studio drawing the next masterpiece, trying to follow in your family's footsteps?"

"I don't have a single artistic bone in my body," He laughs, wildly shaking his dark, shaggy hair. "unless you call wrecking a well known and apparently 'safe' hotel for months, an art."

"I call it 2 years in penitentiary . 3 years if I'm bored and make you my project for the next couple months."

The boy's face pales as his eyes flicker around the room.

"You stole everything from my family." The boy mutters, his eyes shining. "All these paintings hung up around your hotel should be with us, the Rembrandt Van Rijn, the rightful owners. Instead rich, arrogant people like you took it from us. You practically stole our history."

"I wouldn't call buying something for half a million stealing but okay." Grace mumbles.

The boy shoots her a dirty glare as he turns back to Vincent.

"I hate you. I hate everybody! You just took without even considering us."

Vincent eyes flicker away from the boy and soft look quickly shines in his eyes before they drop a couple of degrees.

"Your reasoning is dumb and fuelled by way too much emotion. You really didn't think things through, did you? Instead of sabotage you could have nicely approached us, told us who you were and we could have come up with something that could suit both parties but no, you had to do this. Now, you'll face the consequences and it won't be my fault or any rich, arrogant man's. You made your bed, now you'll sleep in it."

Grace shuffles back as Molinda glances at her thought the corner of her eye.

"He's scary." Molinda mouths.

"I know."

"Leave us." Vincent says, his steel, storming eyes trained on the the boy, Jason.

"What?" Grace asks, taking a step closer to Vincent only for him to whirl around.

"I said leave."

Grace and Molinda share a look before they carefully drag themselves out the room.

"Don't kill the boy, okay?"

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Hey Luvies,

So the concept of this chapter came from a hotel that I slept at a couple weeks ago. Their restaurant's name was Saskia and their menu had information about her, her husband and their son Titus. Hopefully, you enjoyed learning some random general knowledge and who knows, maybe next time when you're on the bus and sit next to some old woman you can tell her some fun information about 1600's.

Anyway, moral of the story is that inspiration can be found anywhere.

If you enjoyed this chapter please Vote, Comment and SHARE THE LOVE!