As Jean stepped into the office, the first thing she noticed was how wide and big the place was.
The office was so big that Jean was sure you could fit two of Jeff’s apartment inside the office and there would still be space for one more.
At the far end of the office stood a big oak table and behind that a chair that had its back to her.
She could hear the man seated on that chair engaging someone in a conversation over the phone, and Jean had no idea what to do, so she stood waiting timidly and observing the room.
To her left, at the wall, there was a long shelf that almost took up the entire wall.
On the shelf were books, and books and more books.
There were a few sculptures too, but books covered almost every single space on the shelf.
Just in front of the shelf was a sitting area.
Two sofas sat opposite each other, and in the middle, she noticed a small glass table, and on it was a kettle that poured steam from its mouth.
Two small jugs stood beside the kettle, and beside those were two mugs.
Jean felt quite thirsty, but she didn’t move.
The right side of the room was a floor-to-ceiling window that provided Jean a breathtaking view of New York City.
She was tempted to walk over to the window and have a proper look, but she figured that would have to wait.
Mr.
Marquez did not look like he would be ending his phone conversation anytime soon, so Jean decided to continue looking.
There was a TV fixed on the wall, just behind Mr.
Marquez’s table.
A fridge stood to the right of the table, and just as she moved her eyes, she saw that Mr.
Marquez was now on his feet, though he was yet to face her.
“Ms.
Jean, you’re well, I hope?” He said, his voice very rich and deep and oddly familiar.
Jean took a cautious step forward, into the red rug-covered office.
“Yes, Mr.
Marquez, I am fine.
I also want to use this opportunity to thank you for what you’re about to do for me.
Really, my life’s been such a mess, and your mail could not have come in at a better time.
I am grateful, sir, really grateful.” Mr.
Marquez remained standing with his back to her.
“I’m sure the times must have been tough, Jean.” Oh, Fuck.
Jean’s heart stopped beating for a moment as she heard that voice.
No please.
Jean knew the voice that had just spoken, and she desperately hoped to God that she was hearing wrong.
God did not answer Jean’s prayer because as Mr.
Marquez turned and walked to stand in front of her, Jean realized that she had been played.
She was standing in front of the one man she never thought she would see again.
The man she prayed that she would never get to see.
Memories of that faithful night threatened to flood her mind, and it took all her strength to shove them down.
She forced herself to look at the man, to really look at him.
There were slight changes about him, but there was no denying that he was the beautiful stranger from the night.
The one that she had robbed of forty thousand dollars and a wristwatch.
A diamond wristwatch.
His eyes still shone blue.
He no longer had the glasses, and his hair was slightly messy.
Instead of a jacket and jean trousers, he was putting on a black suit that fitted him wonderfully.
He still stood several inches taller than Jean, despite her heels, and as she looked up at him, she became genuinely afraid.
Her mouth had gone dry, and her legs shook.
She felt lightheaded and sick at the same time.
“It’s… It’s you.” Jean said, feeling profoundly stupid that she hadn’t even bothered to find out what his name was.
Even if he might’ve given her a fake name, it would certainly have helped at a moment like this, but she was stuck with nothing.
The beautiful stranger stretched out his hand towards Jean.
“I don’t think we ever got to really carry out a proper introduction the last time.
And I was really looking forward to it.
Imagine my surprise when I woke up, and you were gone.” To that, Jean said nothing.
She simply focused on her breathing, trying to get it to even out and to calm her racing heart.
The stranger cleared his throat, hand still outstretched, and timidly, Jean reached out to shake his hand.
Her skin tingled upon contact, but there was nothing gentle or sweet in the way that he held her hand.
Jean tried to free her hand, but his grip was strong, too strong.
“Hello, I am Michael Marquez.
CEO of Apex Designs and Automobiles.” He announced with his usual arrogance, an evil grin plastered across his handsome face.
After announcing himself, the beautiful stranger whose name she now knew was Michael leaned forward, bending his neck so that they were at eye level.
“And you are my pretty little thief, and I have caught you.”