Somewhere Safe.

Chapter 8

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I went through the contents of my bag once again. Clothes for home and work, underclothes, necessary toiletries- seem about right. I took one look at the scattered books about and kept a few of them too. Once done, I stepped out where Carter was waiting for me. He glanced at my bag and up went his eyebrow.

"That’s all you need? I was expecting about 4 bags.”

“Yes, that’s all I need. I’ll come back and take more if needed.”

He shrugged and made his way to the elevator. Great, he didn’t even offer to help. The bag was heavy. Well, maybe it was stupid of me to expect it from him. I don’t call him Asshole Carter for nothing. Somehow managing with the weight I followed him.

“Follow my car. My house’s not far away.”

I nodded and then we went towards our respective cars. After heaving the bag inside the back of the car, I quickly settled inside, for Carter had already backed his car. He entered a gate after about half an hour. Huh, so the Asshole lived in a condo. I parked next to his car, entered my name in the visitor’s list. Struggling with my bag, I followed him to the elevator. He pressed a button. 5. He lived on the same floor as I did. What a random, strange coincidence. Soon, we were standing before a dark brown door. So, this is the place I’d have to live in for, well, I don’t know how long. He opened the door and we went inside. I took a look inside, the glass windows were striking, the city lights outside made for a beautiful view. His home was surprisingly neat and sort of posh. Black leather couch, a beautiful glass table in between and a big television in the middle of the wall. The walls were painted in alternating shades of grey and beige. The only thing that seemed to be missing was any sort of personal touch. No photos on the wall of his family, no frames on table.

“Nice home you have here.” I told him honestly.

“Yeah, thanks. Come on then, I’ll show you around.”

He showed me the kitchen first; it too, was spotlessly clean.

“So this as is obvious, is the kitchen. For the meals, I suggest we take turns. If you make the meal, I’ll do the dishes and vice versa.” he said.

“You cook?” I asked him, surprised.

“I live alone Ms. Wilson; I can’t always order a take out.”

“Emma”

“What?”

“Call me Emma; if we are going to live in the same home, I think we can drop the formalities.”

“Okay, Emma.”

Why does his voice have to be so nice? And why did I get a kick out of how my name sounded when he said it? I shook my head to get a hold of myself. Not cool, Emma, not cool.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“Nothing, just show me the next room Carter.”

“So I call you Emma but you call me Carter?”

“Your name is too long. Besides, Carter suits you.” Better I call him Carter, if I call him by his first name, I’m pretty sure I’d call him asshole mistakenly someday.

“Fine then, that’s the door to my room. And that is the door to the study room; I use it for keeping information on cases. Both are off limits for you.” He said pointing to 2 doors in succession.

“Fine, Carter.”  Although I really wanted to look inside that study room. Hmmm…maybe I’ll take a peek someday when he isn’t home.

“And here is your room. Make yourself at home. I have work to do, so do not disturb me.” he said and went towards his study room. I blew a raspberry at his retreating figure. Then opened the door to the room, my new room. It was a nice room, painted a pale cornflower blue. A single mahogany bed by a window, a small table with 2 comfortable looking chairs on either side. A cupboard and another door beside it, to the bathroom probably. I got to work, unpacking my bag. I entered the bathroom to keep the toiletries; it too was clean and smelled nice. Well, Carter sure did take good care of his home or maybe paid someone to do so. Although that sounded an unlikely option, I’m sure he would never let anyone enter his home like that. That reminds me, I should have thanked him for letting me stay at his home. What’s with this guy? When it came to him, all my good manners flew out of the window.