01 Part II

The man smiled in satisfaction at the sight, stepping up onto the sidewalk before his head snapped up at the sound of shoes hitting the pavement, splashing in the rain.

"Lara," A voice called from above her, but she was too busy trying to climb to her feet and run to take note of the unfamiliar, deep tone, otherwise an increased flood of fear would have filled her veins. Great, a gang rape, this was how she was gonna go down. "Sorry, I'm late... Who are you?" The deep voice asked the man who had halted in his tracks, his eyes widening at the man he found even more unrecognisable than the girl struggled to ascend to a seated position, the pain almost sobering as the world around her begun to still. There was never something quite as unforgiving as rocky pavement.

The man scrambled back to his car, throwing the door shut as his tires screamed against the road. His car was eager to disappear around the corner and out of sight as it hugged the curb, taking a sharp turn as dirt flew up and onto the road, creating a puddle of mud that begun to grudgingly wash away.

"I'm not Lara." Genevieve groaned, squinting as she looked up at the man through the rain, his features hard to make out... aside from the hand he had extended towards her.

"I know," She reached up, weakly grasping his hand as he pulled her to her feet, reaching out and placing a hand against her lower back to steady her as she threatened to fall to her feet. "That man's car has been following you up the street, I thought if I pretended I knew you, he would back off."

"How did you know he was following me? Were you following me too?" She asked, her head spinning, the rain falling heavy between the two as she shivered against his touch, her skin crawling with the foreign closeness she had not experienced for years. Although there was not attraction involved, just a platonic sense of respect she had for the man, her somewhat saviour- she could not help but feel strange as his fingers grazed her skin.

He chuckled, moving his hand from her lower back and to her side as he begun to lead her in a different direction. "No, but you sure took your time making your way up the street," He looked down at her confused pout, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked down to the floor, piecing together his sentence. The man elaborated with a sigh, taking a step as he held her against his side, making sure she would not slip. "I looked out my front window when it started raining to check if my car windows were down and I saw you walking up the street, his car had gone past and he looped around, he was following you slowly but you were too... immersed... in your drink to notice. He got out and so I decided to intervene," He paused in his sentence and gripped the handle to his front door, pushing the beautiful mahogany open as the sweet scent of gingerbread candles wafted through Genevieve's nose and she sighed, a rare smell she seldom stumbled upon.

"Why am I in your house?" She asked after a moment, pausing in her steps as the man released her, shrugging his saturated black leather jacket off, revealing his autumn-orange fitted sweater- also saturated. The man reached up, running a hand through the damp, soaked through strands of his dark hair, a watch on his wrist looking attractively, but exceedingly expensive.

"I am gonna either a, call your parents, or b, drive you home- Bonus option, you get to choose which one," He replied, kicking off his leather shoes. Now that the two had stepped out of the rain and into the comfort and lighting of his house, she took the time to really note his features, his cheekbones sharp and jaw defined, icy blue eyes sinking into hers. There was something blessed and intriguing about the approach in which his lashes further defined, rather than softened, his facial structure. He was breathtaking, in Genevieve's eyes. A rare sight in person, even rarer by chance.

Her eyes widened at his words, blood that had been diluted by the raindrops of water staining her socks and probably her shoes, but at least she was not getting it on this man's rather, also expensive looking, flooring of dark wood that matched that of his front door down to the last, smooth and polished detail. "Is going back out there an option?" She asked meekly, chewing on her lower lip as a shiver raked her body, the buzz of the alcohol wearing down to nothing at a wastefully fast rate.

"Definitely not." He replied sharply, his eyes glancing down at the watch that hugged his wrist, the time it read only further proving his point. "Aren't you a little young to be out this late, alone and drunk? Or drunk at all?" He asked, not asking the question in a mocking way at all, but more of a soft interest that struck her heart, she felt she had to prove herself that she was not a kid anymore- though she always felt young at heart.

"I'm eighteen." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest as if to make her petite frame appear taller, though failing and releasing yet another large shiver.

"Since when?" He asked, his wet shirt becoming unbearably heavy.

Genevieve squinted her eyes, reading the digits of the watch on his hand with difficulty. "Three minutes ago." She raised her eyebrows with her words, an act that made her look like a needlessly defiant young girl—a drunk one, but one quite adorable.

"Oh wow," He replied softly, balancing on one foot as he removed his soaked socks one by one. "Happy Birthday."

"Yeah? Well, I'm gonna get going," She turned back to the door, grasping the handle as she reached to pull it open. But, a stern hand halted her in her tracks, followed by and even sterner voice.

"No, if you aren't going to go home, then you're staying here until it's a reasonable hour of the day and it's light out," He ordered, turning her away from the door. The assertion of his remark was far from authorised, something puzzling, something final.

"You can't tell me what to do, I don't even know who you are," She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest eyes connecting upwards with his. A large shiver interrupted what she would have thought of as an intimidating glare, or at least the most intimidating glare she could muster.

"I hate to break it to you but," He stepped towards her, his lips lingering by her ear as he barely breathed his words in a deep, husky voice. "Princess, you're under my roof, we play by my rules..."

She gulped at his words, her heart beating against her ribs at a harder and faster pace as time progressed. Surely he didn't mean it like that? Like the way, her mother's boss whispered into her ear when she was thirteen before he stole her first kiss. The way that made her skin crawl, the way that gave her vengeful satisfaction when her mother walked in on her, stealing the likes of the man she loved, just like her mother watched at the work party as her daughter's innocence was stolen.

"Come here, we need to get you out of those wet clothes," His voice softened, his hand guiding her lower back to the left and down a long corridor as she shivered once more, not from the icy dampness of her clothes, but from the touch of this man.

She nodded, allowing him to guide her through a large room she assumed was his and into a grand, icy white ensuite. She couldn't muster the energy to raise a complaint against his orders, stunned and enticed by the very title that made her melt, like sugar cubes on the tongue—but left her feeling rubbed the wrong way at the same time.

"Take a seat there, I'll get you some dry clothes," He ordered, watching as Genevieve's gaze followed his directions to the edge of his bath where she took a seat, her hands by her sides as she gripped the white marble. Her blonde hair was hugging the sides of her face before he turned away, making his way back into his room, eyes searching before he pulled his first drawer open. He spared a glance back at the girl who stared down at the floor, her pout perfectly glossed despite the rain. He swallowed hard, retrieving the first shirt he laid his eyes on before he turned and made his way back into the bathroom, placing the neatly folded fabric on his countertop.

"Get dressed, I'm going to go get dressed, there are towels to your right," He spoke with ran-on words, grabbing a towel from the pile before he turned. The stranger sounded almost nervous as he spoke, though everything about him and his actions oozed hint that the man was in control. He pulled the door to as he made his way out and back into his room, tossing the towel on his bed before he pulled his shirt off over his head in a motion that seemed to all be one.

Genevieve slipped off the edge of the bath, shrugging off her saturated jacket before she tossed it, along with her shirt, into the bath where it landed with a heavy thud. Her mind raced with calculations. What situation had she exactly drank herself into? How could she trust the respectful image the man protrayed? How could she know it wasn't a facade that would allow her to be killed in her sleep, complacent and at ease due to the very aroma the man had sweated.

She peered curiously through the gap in the door, her eyes studying the man's flexing back muscles as he pulled a new tee shirt on, towelling out his hair, a fresh pair of pants adorning his legs. After a long moment and much debate, she turned back to the task at hand, unclasping her heavy, wet bra and tossing it to the side with the rest of her clothes.

He turned as if the glances had been timed, peering through the gap of the door just as she had, watching her slip her bra from her chest, tossing it to the side as her skirt, the only remaining piece of clothing that she wore had ridden up to reveal the contours of her ass. He had to turn away, swallowing hard and clearing his throat as if to clear his mind.

"Hey, um, do you have a drier?" Her quiet voice asked, stealing his attention as he glanced up, meeting her gaze as she held her wet clothes up, and he noticed with a suppressed smile that she was still wearing her sneakers.

"Yeah, I'll put your things through later," he replied, taking the clothes from her and easily tossing them in the washing basket that sat by his bed, filled already with his own wet garments, heavy and useless. "Come on, I need to clean up your knee, sidewalks are filthy,"

"Oh... It shouldn't be a problem, it was raining," She spoke softly, looking down at the blood that coated her leg, dried in places.

The man offered the girl a bright, wide smile as her eyes lifted to his once more. "That's not how bacteria works," He turned from her with a quiet chuckle, head motioning towards the bathroom door, just as he caught a small smile quirking along the girl's lips. He admired her sense of humour.