Incinerate Me

2| Lana

First impressions were lucky charms.

I had rampaged my entire wardrobe to find a professional attire and finally, I found nothing.

Risking it all, I stole a pink blouse from my mum's wardrobe and also some shoes for when she used to go to work. I successfully dressed up and just when I was about to sneak out of the house,

" Lana," I screwed my eyes shut.

" What are you wearing?!" She scanned my frame.

" Looking presentable?, All I have is shorts, ripped jeans, denim skirts and tank tops, hoodies,"

" Like mum, this job is too expensive to dress like  I'm running to the grocery store." I ended breathlessly.

She smiled, her similar brown eyes shinning, " You don't have to look like a forty year woman."

My shoulders sagged from defeat, " come on, dress like you, it's not compulsory to dress so professional that you end up making a fool out of yourself, my love."

" Are you sure?" I pouted.

She nodded assuringly, " Dress like you, Lana."

I sighed and went to change.

I dressed in a faded blue jeans and a hoodie. I felt comfortable. She was right. I didn't have to go extra miles to look like I was forty when I was just 20.

" There you are!" She squealed. I sometimes wondered how she could be so enthusiastic and so bright every day even if life was kicking her in the stomach. It was hard to think of it. The love of your life loosing his sight, the very ones that saw you, laughed at your actions.

" Go!, It's getting late?" She pecked my cheeks and ushered me out of our crappy apartment.

I took a deep breath and took the next bus.

His mansion was like a castle straight out of a movie and I gawked at it.

If I thought the outside was beautiful then the insides was breathtaking. It had mainly black and cold interior designs. The black couches, grey curtains, the art works and the kitchen.

Kitchen. God.

I had to make him breakfast.

Pancakes and juice. Cucumber juice.

Ew, I hated cucumbers.

" You're late." A cold, deep accented voice resonated in my ears. I jumped around, staring straight into mesmerizing cobalt  blue eyes, slightly hollow, dark circles. A very pink plump lips and incredulously long brows scrunched together.

His stubble fitted him. I thought he was like, okay, I pictured him to look older but the fine wine Infront of me was nothing like fifty.

He had slightly tan skin, clad in a see through vest and black sweat pants.

I swallowed hard, my eyes meeting his. He was specially sculpted looking at how huge he was, his muscles flexing underneath his vest.

" Ur- I-I," he looked irritated by my stuttering.

" I am very sorry sir, there was traffic." I explained to him. I couldn't tell him I was busy finding an outfit.

" Are you trying to burn my kitchen?" He looked past me, with a blank expression, which I knew I was going to see most of the time.

" Oh shit," I whipped around turning the electric stove off.

" Follow me." He ordered.

" But Sir your bre-,"

" I'm not hungry, be fast about it." He took lokg strides towards an elevator. He closed the door leaving me to take the torturous stairs.

When I stopped at the last step, a gush of fresh air filled my lungs.

Okay two million was quite worth the exercise.

" Take your shoes off." I sighed, taking off my converses.

" Shoes are not allowed in the house." He looked away.

He looked perfectly fine, he didn't need a caregiver if he was this okay.

" Who are you?"

" My name,"

" Who are you?,"

I gritted my teeth.

" Your new caregiver, Mr Campbello."

" Your name,"

" Lana Rhoades."

" How old are you?" I felt offended. This wasn't some sort of an interview.

" Twenty," I answered nonetheless.

" There are three rules,"

" One, Don't misplace my things, two,don't walk around with those things and lastly I hate tardiness."

I nodded.

" Leave."

Arrogant jerk.