Don't try to Escape

Chapter 4 - Part I & II

"You're right, he seemed a lot threatening," he jokes.

I frown at Thomas. Mr. Rodriguez is very competent. It's not fair to joke at him like that.

"I picture the karate moves he'd use on me. Really scary.

The scene of Mr. Rodriguez jumping on Thomas' back screaming "Get out! Get out!" comes in the head, and I can't help but smile. I try to hold myself not to let it gets wider, but it's too late. Damn it, I didn't want to laugh.

"That's not fair. He is a great doorman," I walk toward the hall with my face down to Thomas do not see my smile. "Just a minute. I'm going to get my purse, and we can leave."

I walk to the room wondering if I could hide my smile from Thomas.

"I know what you're doing."

His voice makes me stop turn to him, and I turn around.

"What?"

"I understood the reason you're dressed up like that, but this is not going to work."

Damn it. I got caught.

"I thought you would approve the idea," I explain.

He listens to my words without taking his eyes out of me.

"You call my attention by wearing anything, Sarah. So, you can wear whatever you want. This plan is not working."

I call his attention? My face gets blushed. I ask myself if he is always straightforward with anyone or only with me. I take a deep breath showing frustration because my plan didn't work out.

"All right. Just more five minutes, I'm going to change this," I sound unhappy.

I go back to the room and get a dark blue silk blouse in the wardrobe. I think this one looks fair. I change the shirt, apply some blush on the cheeks, and brush my hair that is still wet. I get my leather folder with all work material and go back to the living room. I find Thomas next to the balcony, speaking on the phone.

"Ok. Fine, Isabel. Call me later." he hangs up.

Thomas is enlightened by the sun, and his black hair shines by the light that touches it.

"Good choice," walks in my direction.

I realize that he is talking about the silk blouse, and I give a timid smile. There was a time I could accept compliments. Nowadays I can't deal with that. That's weird.

"You look hm... good enough," I use sarcasm, hoping that he would get my joke.

He is not good enough, he is perfect. Everything about him is so perfectly designed. Height, smile, shoulders, everything.

He gets the joke and, slowly, his smile gets wider. His eyes get tight becoming tiny compared to the giant smile on his face. I feel glad that he liked the joke. See? I'm not stubborn all the time.

"Shall we go?" I play the killjoy and spoil the relaxed moment.

"Yes, let's go."

He waits for me get ahead him on the way towards the door.

"Have you already seen the note on the counter?"

I stop and look at him, intrigued. I get to the counter and see a white piece of paper.

Sam couldn't have chosen the best time to joke.

Thanks, Sam.

Did Thomas read the note? I turn around and feeling embarrassed he glances me relaxed and cocky.

"Yes, I've read it, " he answers like he can read my mind.

How dare him!

"This is an invasion of privacy; did you know it? Not to mention that it is totally unprofessional!" my face gets hard by the anger and shame, all at the same time.

"We're not working together yet. So, technically, I'm still very professional."

I think he enjoys seeing me angry and embarrassed and make a point of showing that he is delighted. I want to say something to undo his condescending attitude, but I can't find the right words.

How frustrating is this!

I walk up to the door upset, and I open it. He leaves the apartment staring me. I think he is assessing my level of annoyance. My scowl is visible because I need to make clear that I want him to regret what he did to me. He calls the elevator, and I close the door in silence. The elevator comes, and Thomas waits for me to get in. As soon as the elevator closes, I feel his perfume in the air.

"How have you found out the number of my apartment? " I ask, looking to our reflection on the doors of the elevator.

"You told me."

He's focused on the buttons of the elevator panel.

"No, I didn't.

Did I?

"You did. How would I know?" a naughty smile is on Thomas' face, and he looks at me.

How did he find out the number of my apartment? How did he get in the building without being noticed? He's a silent predator, Sarah, my subconscious warns me. I should have searched on him on the Internet. What else does he know about me?

"Do I also need to worry if you know my bra size number?" I'm more frustrated than ever.

I stop for a moment and think. Did it look like an invitation? Yes, it totally sounds like an invitation! Oh crap. I'm not that kind of woman. I've already been that one, but not anymore. I've lost the knack for it. That is, I've lost all my talent. See how nervous I am. The old Sarah would laugh if she saw in this elevator the male example of perfection and I am totally embarrassed, unable to think of a joke to ease the situation. She would hit on Thomas with no mercy.

Thomas stares at me with curiosity and intensity. Maybe he is thinking I am crazy. I guess I am. I've already accepted that today is going to be a long day.

"No. I don't know your bra size number." He turns his eyes back to the panel. "But I suspect."

He takes some air to say something else, but he let it go. The doors of the elevator open, and we get in the lounge. I notice that something is missing. Mr. Rodriguez is not where he has to be, next to the door. I'm confused, and I look at Thomas. He wears his Ray-Ban glasses on without even looking at me. On the sidewalk, the sun shines on us with intensity. Thomas seems different. Perhaps it's because I've never seen him during the day. It looks like he was made for this city. Sporty and formal at the same time, like the beaches that mix to the surrounding offices.

The familiar Nissan GTR is parked in front of the building, and Thomas takes me to it, he opens the door to get in. He also gets in and starts the car.

"Were you talking with the model from the campaign?" he asks, looking at the left rear view.

I guess he is talking about Daniel who I was on the phone with a short time ago.

"I was."

"Can I see the photo shooting?"

"Do you want to see it?" I ask surprised. "Why?"

"I will keep up with the campaign, did you forget it?"

No. How could I forget it? I just didn't expect him to be following every single step.

"The photo shooting will be on Thursday at eight in the morning. I'll send you the studio address as soon as you are back home."

"All right." He starts driving. "I'm going to organize my schedule."