My body stills. What did he just say? I feel like I'm in some type of Twilight Zone. No tha-wait-that's impossible! The Damian Castellano I know is around the same age as me. We went to middle school together for crying out loud. This guy is at least in his early twenties. I push all the bad things he did to me as kids to the back of mine. The last thing I need right now is to have a panic attack in front of a drug Lord.
"H-how old are you?" I keep my hand on the door knob just in case he gives the wrong answer.
"I'm 23." I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay so maybe it's not him.
I turn back around to face him. "It's weird I keep getting the strangest feeling that I know you from somewhere." I shake my head and laugh awkwardly. He stands up from his desk and walks over to me.
"I get that a lot." He murmurs. We stare at each other for a while and then he turns and opens the door gesturing for me to walk out first.
"So how can a 23 year old afford a place like this? Whatever you're doing I want in. This is amazing" I say in awe. A big chandelier hangs from the ceiling right above the staircase.
He sucks in an awkward breath and rubs the back of his neck as we slowly descend the stairs. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to know what I do gattina." I nod lazily and follow closely behind him.
We walk around for a little while until we end up at the front foyer. The floors are a clean shade of black marble and all the walls are a soft cream color. I learned that every room in the house has its own unique color. All the rooms are pretty empty besides the guards that linger around on each level. There are two wings to the house; the east wing and the west wing. The west wing is for his so called "family" and is currently where we are standing.
"So let me get this straight you have am entire wing to yourself?" I all but shout. This guy is too rich. He laughs at my reaction. I take a moment to look at him. Some would call it checking him out. But i'm not. Just...safety reasons. Or not...Okay kill me. If a hot guy kidnapped you, you'd be checking him out too. He takes out his phone and I continue to stare. He gives off this spine curdling impression that would make any man cower against him. His eyes are a steel shade, but they turn dark because of how much focus he puts into his phone. His complexion is golden olive. I can see his arms better now that he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He has a nice build. Nothing too over the top. He obviously takes care of himself. I groan internally when my eyes make their way back up to his lips. One word: Plump. My tongue runs across my bottom lip when my eyes scan across the faint five o'clock shadow that covers his chiseled jawline. A weird sensation stirs in my lower abdomen and just like that I'm snapped out of my thoughts. I quickly look back up to his eyes. He's staring at me with full smirk on his face. Great he caught me staring. I cough and walk over to admire one of the paintings on the wall. What a nice painting. Just so..paintlike. Is that even a word? I scrunch my face up.
"Soo..." I play with my fingers looking up at the painting. It's a picture of a small boy riding a bicycle.
"So..." His breath touches the back of my neck and I jump. When the hell did he get that close? And why didn't I hear his footsteps? This man is a freaking ninja. His cologne engulfs my entire body and I inhale naturally causing the weird sensation in my abdomen to come back. What the hell is that? And why does it only happen when he's this close to me?
"Can I really go home tomorrow?" I blurt out in a whisper. His chest presses against my lower back and I refrain from freaking out. I've never been this close to a guy before. Like EVER. I've never even spoken to a guy before, well except the pizza guy and Holden.
"Yes. But you do know that if you tell anyone-"
"I know, I know-you'll kill me." He opens his mouth to say something else when the front door opens and someone walks in signing at the top of their lungs. I quickly move away from him and rub the back of my head.
YOU ARE READING
His Obligation (Under Reconstruction)
Action"Who are you?" He says with authority. Say something dammit. I can't. In all my 18 years of living I have never seen someone who so- "I don't have all day. Who are you!" He yells cutting me out of my thoughts. "R-Rachel t-Taylor. My name is Rachel...
