FOUR
After a warm bath Claire slipped into an old, lavender dress she found laid down on the bed for her. It looked okay, she thought; after all she had no other option. And besides, it wasn't such a discomfort considering the posh design of the dress that had remarkable sewing.
The owner must've been fashionable.
Twirling, Claire watched the swirling umbrella skirt of the dress that made her look younger. It was short and stylish, exposing most of her glorious skin, from the long resplendent legs to her arms that were partially covered by its little sleeves.
"Not bad," she murmured while brushing her hair.
There was a knock at the door and Martha walked in upon Claire's assent. "It looks good on you. Are you ready?" she asked warmly with a small smile, relishing the sight of her.
"Mmm." Claire nodded. Somehow her heart was beating fast thinking of meeting the Stevens. She couldn't help the discomfiture of knowing next to nothing about these people.
Well, they did save her life, and even sheltered her; so it was only polite and courteous to thank them.
"Okay, let's go," Martha instructed, and with one heavy sigh, Claire followed suit.
The house was grand and classic. Claire was awed as they passed through the dim lit corridor. The walls were coated in cream color, and a number of old paintings embellished their sight. They were definitely worth a fortune, she could easily tell as an art lover herself.
Martha led her towards the wooden staircase, and slowly they both descended down where Mr. Stevens and Ryan were having breakfast in the dining room. The gentlemen raised their eyes at her and fleetingly seemed transfixed by the sight of her.
What the heck!
Claire couldn't understand the look of remembrance they both pitched at her, but she could tell that the dress had some effect on them. Now she wondered who owned it. Could it be a dead person? Oh no, she had to stop overthinking about this.
However, she could feel her heart jumping at each step she took, watching the two gentlemen. The old man looked okay, friendly from the smile she gave her. But the young man . . . well, it was hard to fathom a thing about the handsome dude with deep brown eyes.
"Um, good morning," she greeted after getting closer, her breath nerved.
Her eyes glided between Mr. Stevens, who was now staring closely at her, and Ryan, who was holding a gigantic newspaper, peering at her through above it without much interest.
"Good morning, young lady," Mr. Stevens replied cheerily. "How are you feeling?"
Claire answered quickly, "I'm fine, sir. Thank you for letting me stay . . . And for saving my life." She focused on the old man.
"Forget about that. Why don't you take a seat and have breakfast with us?" Mr. Stevens suggested, and Martha was quick to second the idea by pulling a chair for Claire.
The table was utterly inviting. Fresh croissants, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacons made Claire's tummy grumble. Indeed, good food could be her death. She sat down with pleasure but it suddenly slowed down upon seeing Ryan's face closer.
His being like a Greek god was no longer in question, for the blue sweatshirt and jeans made him radiant despite the casualty. Claire somewhat remembered seeing his face before falling into darkness, last night. She wanted to say something to him but decided against it.
"Oh, you should try the pancakes and honey. It's Martha's specialty," Mr. Stevens said sassily, and Claire's smile was ingenuous.
"Okay," she muttered, taking one from the little mountain of pancakes. Oh, they looked yummy! She was so ready to give them her best tryout.
A short silence filled the atmosphere, with Claire trying hard to get comfortable around these beautiful strangers. Well, things could have gotten ugly if it weren't for them . . . or him. Her eyes diverted towards Ryan, who was overly concentrated on the business news, seated across from her.
"So, are you from here?" Mr. Stevens began and it was Claire's chance to explain her predicament.
After a few minutes of utter silence on his part, Ryan poured himself a glass of milk upon casting the newspaper aside. He briefly stared at Claire, as she was talking to his grandfather with shared laughter. Nothing was registered on his face. Ignoring the details, he downed the glass at once and rose up to his feet.
"Your friend called last night," he said curtly, facing Claire. "You should probably call her back."
"Thank you." Claire raised her gaze to find his towering height, and he was already leaving. Sighing, finding him unsettling, she returned the attention towards the grandfather.
Mr. Stevens was way better for a company, she thought, finding his eyes staring curiously at her.
"And why were you in the rain?" he asked over a sip of ginger tea.
Oh no! Claire took a deep breath.
"Well, I was going back home, and the rain suddenly started and I ended up slipping into that state." She found herself absurd to even tell the story. Everything was her own fault.
"No wonder," Mr. Stevens remarked, scratching his grey beard. "This place is terrible during rain, and that's the only horrible thing about it. Thank God we reached there in time."
They kept talking, and evidently they both enjoyed each other's company. Claire liked how funny the old man was, and Stevens saw her like the younger version of his late daughter who loved acting tough.
Soon after breakfast Claire called Gena and explained shortly what had happened. The call reassured her friend and grandfather who were worried sick about her safety. She promised them to be back soon, for she was waiting for her clothes to get dry.
She wandered outside and stopped at the swimming pool. It was a marvelous sight, the house in general, surrounded with green trees and garden. With the chilly weather after the rain, the beaming sun rays piercing through the clouds with great zeal, made the air breathtaking.
"Were you trying to commit suicide?" A strong, but familiar voice startled Claire.
Glancing up, Ryan was standing right beside her, his eyes focused on his phone, his frame blocking the sunlight.
"You startled me!" Claire said quietly and sat straight so as to catch a proper sight of him. "Suicide? You are crazy." She scowled.
"I am?" Ryan gazed at her fleetingly, a small and rare smile tugged on his lips. "So, what's your deal with the rain?" he asked casually, eyes back on the phone.
"Well, I was just—" Claire halted upon seeing his raised eyebrow towards her speech the second she'd opened her mouth. "I mean, it was just an accident."
"Yes, reschedule the meeting and let Doris and Harry know about it." Ryan was already on the phone, making her scoff incredulously. What the fuck! She glowered at him. "I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning, so get all the papers ready." His tone was imperial.
"Yeah, yeah!" Claire muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. Was it so hard to say 'excuse me, I'm taking the call?' What a jerk! She inwardly poured him all the detesting remarks she had.
"What did you say?" Ryan questioned while ending the call.
"Nothing. I was talking to myself," she replied.
"If you say so," Ryan uttered with an exhausted sigh. "If it wasn't a suicide, good, but be very careful next time. You may not be as lucky again." He walked away.
"Jerk!" Claire muttered, watching his frame moving gaily, and realized that he was indeed a work of art.
That height, that body . . . as sturdy as the gym trainer, and . . . Okay, she had to stop giving him credits because physical attributes are not the only thing making a man! She reminded herself.
Zeus reincarnation? She laughed at her own thoughts.
It was Ryan who gave her a ride back to the beach house. What a tough luck! He never said a word as they moved along the way, and she did exactly the same. As expected, the road was terribly awful; however, they were able to arrive safe and sound.
"I hope this is the house," said Ryan, once the car had pulled over.
"Yeah, thank you," Claire told him, and he made a curt nod. She began unbuckling her seatbelt.
Ryan's gaze was busy scanning the area, a bit dazzled by its calmness and possibly the vastness. "Whose land?" he queried with interest, glancing at her.
"I don't know," Claire lied, for she perfectly knew who the owner was. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She got lost into the sea streaming from a far.
"Aren't you getting off?" Ryan reminded her.
Claire exited the car and said, "Drive safe."
"I always do," Ryan quipped with a smile and drove off.
"Jerk!" was probably the only name Claire could give him.
Gena and Claire's grandfather were relieved to finally have her back.
"You gave me a scare, you idiot!" Gena swapped her into a bear hug, her voice emotional.
"I'm sorry." Claire smiled, happy to be home. "Grandpa, I'm really sorry." She turned to the Old man and hugged him, too.
"What's important is that you are fine." He sounded gentle and fond, patting her back. "Go and take some rest; I'll prepare you a very delicious lunch before you go."
That was settled. Gena pulled Claire unceremoniously into the bedroom, hungry for some gossip. up to know she was only told Bruno and the fact that another man saved her.
"So who stole your heart? Is it the charming guy or the cold dark knight?" Gena asked excitedly as they sat down on the bed.
"Oh please, Gena, no one did." Claire lied back gingerly, chuckling.
"Oh, really?" Gena was dubious, eyes squinted. "Not even a slight crush over any of them? Just nothing?"
Oh God, this Japanese chick wasn't going to give up anytime soon. Claire knew as much.
"Well, I did like Bruno, and I'm just grateful to Ryan for saving my life. That's all," she replied, but Gena's stare remained unmoved. "I mean, Ryan is kind of rude and I just couldn't stand him."
"Oh?" Gena murmured.
"Yeah. And besides, I may not see them again, so why bother thinking about it?" Claire sighed.
"Okay, what can I say?" Gena shrugged her shoulders, and both laughed. "I'm glad somebody has experienced a little of a romantic drama in her life at least for a day.
"You're crazy." Claire laughed, and dropped herself heavily on the bed.
Two weeks went by since Claire's trip to Montesby, something she could not easily forget. It was Saturday morning; her stepmother and her son, Jorge, were all at home. Claire and Jorge were not as close as how a brother and sister should be, but she had no problem with him either.
"Hey, morning." Jorge smiled at her as she took a seat, ready for that family meeting.
"Morning," Claire returned. "I barely see you, Jorge, how are you?"
"Fine, I'm just a bit occupied with work lately." He beamed, his smooth features of a reserved guy patent through his sweet smile.
"I see."
"Why don't you come and work in the company?" Jorge suggested, trying his best to make a meaningful exchange.
"No, I'm starting to work at Starlight, next week. But thanks for the offer," Claire answered truthfully.
"Okay, enough of this chit chats." Selma, Claire's stepmother, appeared. "I only called you to ask you this," She paused, and they all stared at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. "I met your father's attorney, and I discovered there might be other properties somewhere that weren't mentioned in the will."
"And so?" Claire asked, enraged at the mere sight of her dark hair, fair skin, a perfect reminder of an old witch if adding her rotten attitude.
"Do you know anything about it?" Selma shot straight.
"I know nothing," Claire returned dryly.
"What?" Selma glared at her, her eyes ablaze.
"And even if I did," said Claire while getting up, "do you actually think I'd tell you?" Their eyes locked in a challenging manner.
"You're really looking for trouble, huh?" Selma uttered furiously, her fists clenched. "Do you want me to drag you out of this house?"
"Mother, please--" Jorge butted in, but Claire took over right away.
"I wonder what took you so long to bring it up," she said, for it wasn't a surprise at all. "But guess what, this is my parents' house, so I'll only leave when I want to."
"You—" Selma wanted to lurch towards her, but Jorge grabbed her tightly. "What are—"
"Stop this nonsense! Please!" His voice was mild, but fury couldn't betray his eyes.
Feeling irritated with the drama, Claire stormed out of that meeting or whatever, and headed straight to her room.
She locked the door while at it. Sighing heavily with anger, she couldn't help but wonder how far that greedy woman was willing to go.
She'd taken nearly everything her father had left; the company, the cars, the house, and now she's still looking for whatever was left.
What a joke!
"It's okay, Claire. She's just a witch in need of a new victim. Don't let her get to you." She exhaled a deep breath.