He loomed by the passenger door, silent, his gaze fixed on her. Jennifer hissed under her breath. She hated this—hated needing help—but the rain wasn't stopping, and home was still far from Beverly Hills.
She dragged herself to the car. He yanked the door open and she climbed in. The cushions of the car were softer than her bed. She was dripping, afraid she'd ruin the car, but he only said "Ignore it, I'm drenched as well".
He switched the ignition on and the car turned onto the street.
Jennifer scooted to the edge of the seat, leaning against the door. She shook violently from the cold. She flinched at his sudden movement—then saw he was only switching off the AC, the heater humming to life.
For the first time in many nights, comfort tugged at her eyelids, but she refused to fall asleep beside another stranger.
They drove through a deserted Beverly Hills, silence pressing between them.
He shifted, watching her from the corner of his eye, questions churning.Who was she? What was she doing alone in the storm?.
"What's your name?" He asked softly. Jennifer shifted. He was giving her a ride—the least she could do was answer.
"Jennifer. Jennifer Lawrence" she said, her voice weak and dry.
"Where are you from?" His grip around the wheel tightened.
"Boyle Heights" she mutterrd, tired of his questions.
"What were you doing out in the rain all by yourself?" He watched her head snap to him.
"That is none of your business sir" she barked. Vincent nodded in retreat, not like he cared anyway, he had offered her this ride to satisfy the feeling in the back of his mind.
They drove on in silence. Boyle Heights was still fifteen minutes away, the air thick with awkwardness. But then she broke the silence "I just closed from work".
His chest tightened. "You don't belong in this life" Anger flashed through her eyes "And who are you to tell me that, my father?" He recoiled, "No, but…"
"You don't know me" she snapped. Her voice almost breaking down. She turned to the mirror again.
"I'm sorry" he apologized after a brief silence. "When I asked where you were from I didn't mean where you lived". He waited for her to answer but her attention was glued outside the car, like he was haunting her.
"I grew up in LA". She paused and turned to him "You know you could ask the price and be done with it instead of running circles". If he was trying to play the game of 'I'm not like other men' then she had seen so many of that type and had no mood for it, they all wanted the same thing, they were all the same.
Vincent in all his life hadn't had anyone address him in such words, he was the Moretti and all feared to look him in the face, but this fragile girl beside him dared call him John. He wasn't angry. Her bluntness almost amused him—perhaps she had no idea who he was.
They soon pulled into the neighborhood of Boyle Heights. The streets lay empty, the rain unrelenting.
She pointed to her street and she eased the car to a stop next to the curb. She opened the door and he stopped her "You need this" he handed her an umbrella. She declined and slammed the door shut. He sighed That's what you get for helping people. His phone buzzed.
"Sir, it's almost 10 and you're not home yet" The voice was sounded calm as usual, Vincent fidgeted with the ignition and the car turned on again. "On my way Carlos".
He dropped the phone and turned to look her way once more, to make sure she was in, but she was standing in one place, staring at the door. He stepped out of the car and approached her.
She sobbed silently, shoulders trembling. She was unaware he had walked up to her. The door was barred with a notice—her rent overdue. Her fingers fidgeted with her phone. The number she tried had been disconnected.
He didn't know what it was, but it gripped his heart hard when he saw her like that. His body moved before his mind. "I can take you somewhere you can stay the night and worry about this tomorrow". She turned, eyes red from crying, unable to resist, she followed him back to the car.
A couple of minutes later and the car pulled up beside white Heaven, one of Moretti's luxurious penthouses. Carlos waited with an umbrella. The sight of a woman with Vincent appalled him.
"Donovan called sir" Carlos announced leading the way. "Not now Carlos. He drew him aside and whispered something, Carlos nodded and walked away.
Jennifer hovered at the porch, unsure of what to do. Her mind too clouded to notice how the old man had addressed him as 'sir'. "This way" Vincent pointed to the elevator.
They were ushered onto the fifth floor Vincent led the way to his room. She took baby steps behind. His black hair gleamed wet from the rain. He was tall, lean.
Warmth hit her again when she stepped into the room. The luxury of it was tasteful. Probably a daddy's boy with too much money to play with.
"Carlos would see that you rest well for the night, bathroom is that way" He pointed to the west side of the room.
"Why are you doing this, what do you want?" Her voice was broken. If there's anything she hated it was debt, she was paying off her biggest debt and wouldn't want more. Vincent didn't answer, but this time her question was provoking and he walked out.
She climbed into the tub. The water was hot and it stung the back of her neck.
She let the heat consume her. She was tired, weak, hungry.
Two precise knocks. She sat up abruptly as a voice called, 'A change of clothes for you, ma'am" Footsteps retreated and a door closed. She submerged into the tub again, washing herself, who was he?
When she came out, a purple silk slip and a night gown had been prepared for her. Her fingers felt the texture. Smooth. Expensive. She dressed.
He sat with his back to her. He had changed into a long sleeved shirt, black and silk. Had he bathe so fast. She moved across the room silently.
Vincent felt those footsteps again and turned. His eyes sized her up in that silk slip. What was Carlos thinking the old man had clearly mistook who she was.
He rose "I'm sorry, I'll have them find something else". She stopped him before he could dial the phone. "I'm okay. Not like there's much of me anyone hasn't seen yet".
He despised those words. He kept his eyes away from her body. "Dinner" he pointed to the dishes laid out on the table for her and returned to what he was doing.
She devoured the food, ravenous. He watched from the corners of his eyes. Had she been starving that much?
He stood abruptly and walked to her, she paused with a mouthful, burying her face. "I've instructed Carlos to make an arrangement for you to stay, tomorrow…" she cut him short "I don't need you to do that. I can take care of myself sir".
He didn't like how she addressed him as 'sir'. He nodded. "Well in that case, rest well". He left the room.
Too tired to process the events of the night. She collasped into the bed.
She hugged the pillows that smelled of him, and for the first time in years, slept like a baby.