Clutching my purse, I march back toward the black Mercedes Maybach waiting at the entrance of the cemetery. It's only about three in the afternoon, but the clouds have turned gray suddenly without warning, the moisture in the air growing heavier each second, causing the world to turn dark and dank all around me.
Pressing my eyes closed, I flinch, rooted on the spot when a sharp streak of lightning cuts across the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. Biting my bottom lip, I swallow my tears.
Damn it, Bridget. You're twenty four years old and still scared of a little desert monsoon?! As the sound fades, I take a deep breath to gather my strength and begin to sprint as large droplets of water start to fall. Panicking, I dash, not noticing the puddle of mud at my feet, only to slip and fall on my butt with a thud.
Jesus! What a klutz! With gritted teeth, I attempt to scramble to my feet, only to be startled when low thunder booms again.
Heavy rain begins pouring down in sheets and it only takes a moment for me to get drenched pitifully. Feeling my strength escaping my body, my knees grow weak before I can straighten up. My vision is blurred by the driving rain as my eyes catch sight of a familiar figure getting out of the car. Come on, Bridget. Just a few more steps.
Get up! I give up my attempt as the skies grumble again while my hands subconsciously find their way to cover my ears. The cold air seeps into my skin and I shiver harshly. I can't be sure if it's because of my fear, the chilling wind through my damp clothes, or the icy cold glare coming from the approaching figure of a man carrying a black umbrella. Within a few breaths, he successfully rescues me from my pathetic pit of mud and despair and seamlessly deposits me on the passenger seat.
I purse my lips as he throws his coat over me, blasting the heater, and adjusting the vents so that they're all aimed directly at me. "I-I…" I stutter when he shoots me a look. His jaw is clenched, and his steel grey eyes look deadly as he squints ever so faintly. "I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry."
"Mmh," he hums simply. Averting my gaze, I bow my head and stare at the droplets of water through the window as he maneuvers the vehicle from behind the steering wheel. I close my eyes and utter a silent prayer when lightning flashes again. Fortunately, the noise is muffled in the cabin of the car, and the ride back home is quick. I get out of the vehicle the moment it pulls to a stop in the driveway. Without sparing the man another glance, I sprint up the stairs and head straight to my bedroom.
My clothes are already mostly dry, but I feel sticky and humiliated. I take a warm shower, blow-dry my hair, and fall onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Today is the fourth anniversary of my grandfather's death. For the same amount of time, I've been living under a roof with the cold and despotic Leonard Leonie. Throughout these years, I still can't seem to get used to his demeanor. Sometimes he's okay, but most times he's overbearing and difficult to read. I still cannot understand why my grandpa trusted the man so much, to leave me in his hands. These thoughts linger in my mind as I doze off.
It's pitch-dark when I wake up, making me shoot up from my bed. It would be detrimental if I came late for dinner. Leonard hates tardiness and values his timetable. The best I can do is adjust and avoid stepping on his toes.
After all, he is my guardian. I hurriedly slip into a pair of denim shorts and an old t-shirt from the stack of old clothes in my wardrobe, quite pleased that they still fit. The trip back to Tucson was planned, but I didn't really pack anything since the villa has been under trusted care these past few years and I'd never moved all my things out when I left for college.
"You're awake," Mrs. Lisbeth greets me when she sees me enter the dining hall. She's the caretaker, and I've been familiar with her since I was fifteen. "Good evening," I greet back with a smile. Settling on my chair, my eyes fall on the man sitting at the center of the long table.
He looks at me grimly, as if I've committed a crime. I shudder uncomfortably. "I-I…dozed off."
"Mmm," he acknowledges absently before continuing with his meal. I perch on my seat, observing his form while waiting for my food. Leonard looks like he's shooting an ad for a high-end brand of cutlery. His movements are graceful and refined. Mesmerizing would be an understatement.
Without question, with his impeccable looks, regal aura, and bottomless pockets, women would easily line up from his doorstep to Tokyo for a chance with him. The sleeves of his black shirt are folded to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. His muscles contract faintly with his every move.
My gaze unconsciously travels to his wide chest and shoulders. Undoubtedly, he's the only man I've ever seen with such a flawless physique. His face is out of this world. Seriously, if Leonie Corporation ever declares bankruptcy, he could still maintain a lavish lifestyle by becoming a model or an actor.