Chapter 2

This man's presence was audible. The room felt deafening even though he barely talked. In a vacant restaurant, I felt cramped. You claimed that your brother lived here. Are you redecorating or what, guys? I asked why they wouldn't be open during prime business hours. 

All he said was "No." I blinked at him as I looked up. He took his hands off the bar top and straightened his outfit. He snatched his pour of whiskey, gave it a swirl, and took a sip while turning away from me. 

I attempted to introduce myself by saying, "Um, I'm Samantha." I would have done it sooner if he hadn't thrown me off balance in this situation. Even though he was turning away from me, I could still hear him say, "I know." Is he aware? 

"H-how?" I queried. After turning around, the man set the glass down next to him. I observed him leaning his attractive butt on the counter's edge where the alcohol was displayed. His coat stretched as he turned to face me, showing off his clearly defined muscles. Oh my. 

I observed a bulge in his pants when he crossed his ankles, indicating that he had a gifted groin. What am I saying? Oh, my God? I forced myself to look away from him. I was unable to think clearly. 

"Because you spoke your name to the man, and he repeated it multiple times. That's why he "sounded like he was saying 'duh' but in a severe and uninteresting manner. He most likely believed I was stupid.

What's your name, um? I queried. I had to find out. Once more, he answered me slowly. But he was perceptive. Whenever he held his eyes on me between sentences, he watched me flinch. "Leo," he replied. I spoke it out while breathing. 

For Leonard or something else? I don't know why I inquired; I only wanted an opportunity to speak with him. I have never seen a man more attractive than him. All he did was stare at me. Not. I breathed and offered him my now-empty dish across the bar. He looked down at it but was still leaning against the wall. 

Cufflinks, a pricey watch, a fresh white shirt, and a black suit. Does he also manage this eatery? I was curious. I hastily said, "Oh, I can wash it out myself," feeling awful that I made him feed us but didn't offer to help with the cleanup. OK, he replied. I took a second look. 

OK? I had assumed he would decline the offer out of simple politeness, but does he seem that polite?

I climbed down from the stool after taking both bowls. Leonard finally stepped away from the bar and headed towards the back doors. It was a typical restaurant kitchen with plenty of room for cooking and upscale-looking appliances. There were run-through dishwashers at the dishwashing station and large industrial sinks and faucets that could be pulled out and used to hose everything off. 

I carried the dishes there while searching the area for soap. When it was set down next to me, I looked up at Leo, who was dead serious. Is he always that serious, or is it just a mask? 

I uttered "Thank you" in the most stupidly weak and dumb voice possible. I didn't anticipate that his sleeve would brush my shoulder when he placed the soap there or that I could smell his seductive scent. I can prove it today if I ever described him as smokey-spiced whiskey. He is superior to the most pricey bottle. 

I immediately began doing the dishes because my top had no sleeves. He was behind me, but I was afraid to peek to see where. The question, "Do you work here?" Without addressing him, I questioned him. He would only ever reply "No" to my questions. "This explains why you perceive me as talkative. You are a man of few words. I moved the bowls to the dish rack and grabbed a rag.

"Are you always so at ease around strangers?" When he inquired, he caught me off guard. "Um, if that's what you mean, I'm friendly," He shook his head slightly. 

He referred to my recent action: "You followed two strange men into a dimly lit restaurant that is closed to the public, yet you're at ease. My spine tingled with fear. 

"S-should I have any cause for concern?" I put the dish in the dryer on hold as I tried to read the expressionless man. He turned his point around and said, "Just another point made that you need to be careful in this city." I couldn't think of anything more to say or do, so I just nodded. 

He indicated where I should place the dishes after they were dry. He made me work hard for this. I'm not bothered. 

His blue eyes suddenly appeared even bluer under these harsh fluorescent lights. The man could easily pass for a top model. Do folks this beautiful hang out with us less handsome people? He is the most stunning individual I've ever seen in person.

"Well, Leonard ...even if you don't think that's what that was, thank you for the meal and your kindness." He received criticism from me for his prior silence. He extended his hand above my head to prevent the door from opening as I started to move in that direction toward the doors that would take me to the main floor. I took a moment to swallow. What is he up to? 

I gently turned around and noticed that his enormous figure had overshadowed mine. He continued to hold my hand and leaned even closer to me. From this viewpoint underneath him, it was clear that he had a cut jaw.

He astonished me by saying, "You mentioned you're looking for work." He had been listening to my and Carlos's chat, but I had no idea. He kept it quiet. I didn't say a word; I nodded, knowing my voice would betray me. 

He was impacted by the fact that he was too close. Although the hand was above my head and there was just one of them, I was nevertheless affected because I was currently confined. He had been accompanied by the other. He gradually removed his hand from above me, although I almost wished he hadn't. My nose was once more flooded with the hints of smoke from earlier, as well as his spiced perfume.

What sort of work is it? He inquired. Oh my, what a voice. So smooth yet deep. But stern. AH. 

I curled my fingers and said, "Um, I was applying for office jobs...like front desk work, cuz that's what I did back home." Why, at the age of 20, do I feel so young next to this man? "And so that is?" I couldn't understand the question he asked, though. 

He clarified, "Home," when I turned my head. What's there?" His broad shoulders in front of me were only squared off by the ease with which his hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. Every glance he gives me seems sensuous when I see such dark lashes. Possibly a harmful one. Or—I'm not sure what that is. 

I said, "I'm from Texas originally, but now I'm back in Florida, where my parents are." He did not respond. This guy is weird. He said, "We need someone to maintain the finances at one of our other businesses. "Other?" Does his sibling own multiple properties? He looked down at me and said, "It's not a restaurant," watching for my reaction. 

The question "What is it?" Again, I cocked my head, but I was curious this time.

He pulled one hand from his slacks pocket and wiped his face with it. His thumb slid across his lower lip, making a sound akin to scratching due to the light stubble on his face. My gaze followed each action. He finally admitted, "A gentlemen's club." My eyes widened. 

"A what?! I stumbled over my words and said, "Oh...um, I don't think we're discussing the same kind of work. He shook his head and replied, "I told the books, back room; I wouldn't want you on the floor. 

I remained stunned. In situations like those, I feel timid and ashamed. Even in a back room, I would short-circuit. 

Although that is a beautiful offer, I wouldn't be a good fit. I gave a headshake. My hair is thick. My back is at least halfway covered by my curly hair. My parents, who are Portuguese, are the reason for my thick head of hair. Leonard's expression of displeasure made my muscles tense. 

Are you saying that my place of business is beneath you? He backed into me with his language. My head jerked again, sending my hair forward as my eyes widened. "Oh, my God, I wasn't making fun of you. It must be a beautiful, um, facility. I waved over my now awkward situation, "I'm...well, obviously uncomfortable.

Although nothing was out of place, I watched Leonard adjust his coat. 

It won't be simple to find work here, but it will suit you. He looked around us and said, "You need a job; you come back here." I merely nodded in agreement because I was at a loss for words. I appreciate you giving me this long-term contract, but I CANNOT work at a gentlemen's club. If they found out where I worked, they would give me a backhander immediately. 

To finally reach the front door of the building, I rapidly spun around on my heel and proceeded through the kitchen doors. I turned around to say goodbye, but I didn't anticipate him standing so near; as a result, my face collided with this man's solid chest. That's some lean muscle, wow. Its appearance was beyond my ability to even imagine. 

Samantha, you've got a guy. a good-looking boyfriend. I had to recollect that. I stepped back and tilted my head up to look at him. Stylish clothing, brilliant blue eyes, and grace. Goodness me.

I glanced at him and said, "Thanks again, Leonard ." As I waited for his response, his jaw clenched and then unclenched. I wasn't receiving one. The intensity of this man was something I had never encountered before, so I lingered for a while longer despite the strangeness of the interaction. 

All I wanted to do was prolong the present. No one has ever made me feel this tense. My heartbeat and my thighs tensed. Or my heart pounded, and my thighs pumped. 

He didn't precisely bid me farewell, so I had to leave after saying my thanks. When the air touched me, I realized how desperately I needed to breathe fresh air. Perhaps using "fresh air" in a city context is inappropriate, but I meant "Leonard -free" air.

-

My three housemates are all respectable individuals. Although we all rent out these rooms and lead completely separate lives, I've attempted to at least somewhat connect with them, even though I'm not exactly close to them. 

Rose  was a blonde with ocean eyes, and I would characterize her as having a grunge attitude. The man of the house is Amir. He is seeing Annabel, my other roommate. He is a gentleman from India. His beautiful skin and dark features do an excellent job of displaying his origin. Although Annabel is likewise blonde, she is of Irish descent. Her eyelashes are so thin that they practically disappear. Also, her brows. She constantly fills them in. 

I only personally know Rose for one thing: she has bipolar disorder. Before asking me to accept her offer to live there, she had revealed it as if she were required to. That made me sad, but I reassured her that it didn't bother me. 

She probably merely wanted to explain a significant aspect of her life, such as the medications on the counter or the occasional little retreat into her room. Possibly how she is feeling. Things like that. To better understand her and what she could need from me in the future, I took the opportunity to do some research on mental diseases on Google. 

The condition of our flat is exactly what you would expect from a room-by-room leasing arrangement. When you open the front door, you are immediately faced with the living room. The sofa is lumpy and already in place, though no one knows whose it is or where it came from. A small flat TV and a side table with a picture and an unidentified statue are also there. I know that it is referred to as Puja and has something to do with Amar's practice of Hinduism. He presents sacrifices to this altar. 

Since his bedroom was already too full, he requested if he could keep it in the common area. We all thought it was fine and had some lovely objects on it. I frequently see flowers or fruit there. For Amar, I even personally replaced a few of the withered flowers out of respect. I don't practice any religion myself. 

I'm not too fond of the living room because of its roughness. Although I would much rather have hardwood floors, I'm not Miss Texas here. My only goal is to have a roof over my head. The carpeting has a strange gray color, or it may be a dirty beige color. Our kitchen, which has linoleum flooring and is inexplicably sticky more frequently than it should be, is directly behind that. 

There is a perpetrator. Just who? I haven't worked it out yet.

An inconvenient half-hall with three doors is on the kitchen's left back side. The bathroom, my bedroom, and Rose's bedroom. The third bedroom door is located on the right side of the floor crack between the rug and the linoleum flooring. It is located where the Puja table's corner is. I'm answering the question appropriately. 

So, that's my crappy abode, and the clock is ticking on me to get a job. I sincerely hope Brian, my partner, recognizes my effort because I've felt relatively isolated in this battle. I don't want him to struggle, though. Simply put, I'm sacrificing a lot for him while he lives much more comfortably than I am. Or perhaps even thinking that it is self-centered.