A Ruthless Game | Grayson Hawthorne x reader

03

     My three days were up. Now the day that I had been dreading was upon us. Today was the day I move into Hawthorne House.

     Aidan had just returned from grabbing our things from the apartment. Just as we were about the leave the room, I heard screaming from the streets down below. I opened the nearest window to find a group of reporters and photographers crowding the entrance of the hotel.

     "Uh...guys, come look at this," I called out to the other three in the room with me. They all stuck their heads out the window as well.

     "Oh no," Alisa let out a nervous chuckle.

     "I thought you had this under control. You assured me this wouldn't get out," Oren turned to Alisa.

     "I don't know how this happened, but I know this isn't the firms fault."

     "We need to leave. Now."

     But, of course, nothings ever simple or easy, never a clean break. Just as we were about to duck our heads out of the window, the noise below grew louder, and about 30 pairs of eyes moved up to meet ours. Cameras pointed up; Oren pulled my head out of the window.

     "We'll take the emergency exit out to the car to avoid the paparazzi," he ordered. We quickly grabbed our things and left the room. We made it safely to the car and began driving to Hawthorne House. The car ride was silent, meaning I had no distractions from my thoughts. So much has happened to me in just the past few days. I thought about my new fortune, my house and the people in it. I thought about Grayson. I thought back to the letter I had read last night. 'I'm sorry.' It didn't make sense; what was he sorry for? I was ripped out my thoughts when my phone chimed in my pocket. A new text.

'Congrats, M.G. You made the headlines.' Attached was an article with a picture of my head sticking out of a hotel window.

"How did he get my number?" I whispered. Aidan turned his head toward me in confusion.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I mutter.

"Hey, n/n, you know you can talk to me right? I'll always be here for you. I know this is a lot, but we'll get through it together." He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I know," I lied, giving him a convincing smile. Just then we pulled up to the gates of the house only to find the paparazzi there as well. "Do I have to say anything to them?" I asked Alisa.

"It's too early for a statement. It's best if you don't interact with the press at for now."

Oren got them to move just enough, so we could get through the gate, and they knew better than to follow us in.

"Is that going to happen everywhere?" I sighed.

"You're a public figure now, but this should all die down in a little bit," Alisa tried to assure me.

     No one was around when we arrived in front of the house. I walked up to the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

     "It's locked. Alisa, where's the key?" Alisa walked away and quickly came back with an envelope. Opening it, I found a key ring  filled with keys. It looked like something the housekeeper in a horror movie would walk around carrying.

"What am I supposed to do with this? It's gonna take forever to the right key," I groaned. I looked back and forth between the keys in my hand and the lock on the door. Maybe I just need to find a key that looks like the door. I quickly began flipping through the keys trying ones that looked similar. On about the fourth attempt, I noticed a begonia engraved at the top of it. I looked back up at the door and noticed the stained-glass window featured a begonia as well. I tried the key and sure enough the lock clicked open. Finally.