Emilia leans against her door, gasping for breath as she closes her eyes, covering them with a shaky hand. Whatever had just happened in the kitchen, she couldn't let that happen, he worked for Mr. Delmont! He was four years older! And he was so damn attractive. The last thought came unbid, but she didn't exactly regret it. It was true, his strong build, his eyes that had the power to captivate everything about her, his messy dark hair that she just wanted to run her hands through with that clean shaven chin and straight nose, with pale lips so serious that she just wanted to make him smile, just once.
His face, so incredibly close, her hand in his as he stands between her knees, looking at her like that. Her heart thumps harder than ever as she presses her cheek to the cool wood, peering through the key hole to see that dark, crisp suit standing just outside blocking her view. Cupping her own face in her hands she moves away quickly, wanting to just forget about what had happened, focus on her mission, she needs to figure out what Mr. Delmont is up to. How had her interrogation of him turned into her almost kissing him, she laments, flinging herself from the door to her suitcases still sitting on the ground and begins to unpack, immediately remembering her loss of a charger and that she needs to find it so she can tell Jazz everything, everything.
Her heart seems to stop beating for the briefest of moments as she remembers what she had been ordered to do. He might be able to keep her from seeing her best friend, but he could not keep them from being in contact, she thinks grimly, flinging a jacket to the side and finally finding that damn charger, plugging it firmly into the wall before returning to the mess of bags that she needs to sort out. Figuring the best way to do it is first remember what in the world she even brought with her, beginning to dump them out rather gently just incase there was anything breakable she forgot about onto the floor.
Finally finished with that part and having shoved all of the bags into one and shoved it in the bottom of the very spacious walk-in closet that had much more than enough room for her clothes. Thankfully there are already hangers there, all matching of course, and grabs an armful putting them on the floor beside all the clothes and beginning to hang them up one by one, surprisingly enjoying organizing them.
All of her tops fit into four categories, hoodies, crop top sweaters, tank tops, and about two business type outfits for during presentations. There was the way she dressed, but it didn't match how she wished she dressed but didn't have the courage to actually go out and get those clothes, she thinks with a sigh of slight disappointment at the thought and moves everything to the awaiting bars that would hold them until she took them out one by one to wear. Next came the four dresses she owns, a very simple cocktail dress, a sweater dress, and two professional ones. Of course there are skirts and pants, and socks, and underwear, and everything else a girl needs to wear as she puts each item away one by one.
She has so few things that if she wanted each of them could go on their own shelf or own area, and nothing would be together, but she likes her little group of things. She likes how she doesn't fill up the space, that she doesn't quite fit there because that is exactly how she feels, she thinks to herself as she clicks the closet light and shuts the door, beginning to clean up the rest of her things, little knick-knacks and pictures, small things that could make her feel more at home. She had more than enough products to fill the bathroom, the one area she actually very much enjoyed with its full bath and shower, and a closet full of very nice soaps and things to place in that bath, something she would definitely need to try out later.
She carefully unfolds a polaroid camera from its case and tries to not let the sudden tears that well-up in her eyes fall, the last gift from her father for Christmas, she had written him about wanting one, a random thing that she wanted to document memories, and miraculously he had sent to her, with only one polaroid taken, of him. It was dark, and badly done, but it was the only photo she had, she had never asked her mother for one, she knew the pain he caused her heart, but he had given her what she really wanted without her ever even asking for it.
Pulling out the photo that she had placed in the same case, she stares at it, admiring the blonde hair and green eyes that even such a bad photo are so obvious to her as she lets out a choked laugh brushing away her tears.
"I think you would be proud of me dad, I stood up to her new husband. I don't think you would approve of him either, but you did always say you wanted to see her happy." Emilia whispers to the photo, she doesn't know why she is crying, every letter she got from him was a lie and she knew it, she always knew it, but still, she just couldn't hold a grudge. He had been in trouble with some very bad people, and had left to protect them. She supposed she should be grateful to him, to Mr. Delmont, to all the men in her life for giving her mother exactly what she needs. But Emilia never needed protecting, or money, or anything, she had her mom, and that was all she needed.
They were never close, had never had those girly heart-to-heart talks about boys, or sat down and watched chick-flicks together every night, but she knew how much her mom gave her, and she loved her for it, and she knew, her mom gave up everything for her. She deserved happiness, but Emilia couldn't help but wonder at what cost.
Setting the photo aside she pulls out an old pack of tarot cards, laughing at them. "Rose, you sly devil." She laughs, setting them aside again and this time she can't stop the tears as they slip down her face, wiping them away with the rough sleeve of her cardigan quickly, but can't resist the smile as she turns over the deck, knowing what it will say on the back of the box.
"You look back too much, now we can know the future together
Love you forever,
Rosie"
Emilia shakes her head at the stupid little message she had written her for 18th birthday, just 10 days before she was gone. She lets the smile fall as she remembers her red headed little friend, pudgy and full of life with that stupid nose piercing that made her look like a punk. She was such an idiot for that night, how could she have let her go alone.
Wiping away the remaining tears that shove themselves stubbornly from her eyes and she tosses them to the side as gently as she can, not noticing as the top flies open and a card slides out of the deck and onto the floor under her bed as she keeps going through the bags, taking the most random of knick-knacks and placing them where she can see from her bed, she doesn't want to miss a single thing from home, because this is certainly not it.
Pursing her lips she picks up the deck of cards, placing the top back in place before putting it in a bedside drawer with the photograph of her father, the two people that are no longer in her life, and their gifts for her 18th birthday. How odd, she thinks to herself, that their gifts are so similar yet so different at the same time.
Smiling to herself she closes the drawer and stares at the room around her, it still feels foreign, alien to her, but she can deal with it now, the familiar items making the space bearable.
The one thing she desperately wanted to try sounded amazing at the moment and she wanders into the bathroom to try out that jacuzzi like bath, filling it with rosewater bubble bath and beautiful soap flowers and a little gold bath bomb she had found in that closet. Maybe tomorrow she would try the lavender scented things, she thinks, smiling a little as she sinks into the warm water, resting her body in its depths.
Nearly an hour later, dozing slightly in the now luke warm water, Emilia is jolted to sudden wakefulness by a pounding knock on the bedroom door. She hadn't bothered closing the bathroom door since the other one was closed already, and suddenly felt very exposed as she sinks lower and calls out to the door. "Yes?"
Her voice slightly hoarse with the embarrassment of if someone decided to come in.
"Miss Emilia? I have been informed that dinner is ready, would you like me to escort you down?" Calls Alexander's familiar voice, thankfully outside of her closed door.
"Uhm, give me a minute!" She calls back frantically, clambering out and drying off her body as quickly as possible, putting on the same clothes she had worn earlier as they weren't dirty yet. Nearly falling as she yanks the joggers a little higher she spots something beneath the corner of her bed, one of the Tarot cards must have fallen out. She thought, nearly laughing in hear head at the thought that maybe it was an omen.
Reaching down she picks up the card slowly, flipping it over to see which one it may be. The Seven of Swords.
She couldn't remember for the life of her what this card meant and so she walks around to her finally charge phone, powering it on and waiting the few minutes it takes after a full shut down from lack of battery to Google the card's meaning purely out of curiosity.
But as her eyes scan the meaning, she can nearly feel her blood run cold. Deception, thievery, shady business. . . No, it was just a coincidence she thought to herself, shoving it in the drawer with the other quickly and trying not to dwell on it as the door opens and Alexander looks in on her.
"Are you ready Emilia?"
"Yes, I am." She says, walking over quickly to where he stands and stepping outside. Just before the door closes behind her, she looks back at the mostly closed drawer apprehensively, just coincidence, right?