The door clicked shut behind them and i stepped back immediately.
My lips still burned and I hated that I couldn't immediately steady myself.
"I could have handled that..differently."
He didn't answer immediately, he just adjusted his cufflinks like nothing had happened moments ago.
"Sure. But I already solved it."
"I didn't ask you to solve anything."
That made him pause, his gaze settling on me.
"So you were comfortable with it?"
"With being disrespected? No. But I can handle myself."
"How?" He asked quietly.
"I would have told him off,"
"You think he would have stopped because you asked him to? Men like him only stop when there are consequences."
"And i couldn't create consequences?"
"Not ones he'd respect."
I hated that a part of me knew he wasn't entirely wrong.
"You didn't have to kiss me to prove a point then."
"It worked." Darius said lazily.
"That still doesn't explain why you told him I was your wife like that." I said instead, redirecting. "I thought you'd..handle it properly."
"It'll be handled properly."
'How can he become more cold after kissing me.'
"And Miss Onyx" he said casually, picking up his tablet again. "You should stop calling me Mr. Crowne."
"What? Why?"
"We're married. It's inappropriate."
"I don't want to stop. It reminds me that things are..well just formal between us."
"And what would you prefer they be?" he asked.
"I didn't say I wanted anything else."
"But you don't want it to stay formal."
"Of course, I want things to stay formal."
"Hm."
I expected his usual no or some resistance but then surprisingly.
"Suit yourself."
"Darius," I muttered to myself, testing it.
After only walking out of his office did I realise that he still calls me Miss Onyx.
–+–
By the time i got back to my apartment building i was already thinking about a long shower and silence.
The receptionist stood up the moment she saw me, her expression was uncertain.
"Miss Brielle? Did you forget anything?"
I slowed slightly, frowning.
"I don't understand the question."
"You're already packed out."
"Huh?"
She hesitated, then said, "Mr Crowne's people came earlier. They had authorization to pack your things."
I stared at her, not making meaning of what she was saying.
"....he sent them?"
"Yes," she said quickly relieved. "Everything was handled professionally."
'He did mention it before… but he could have at least said something today.'
"And you didn't think to inform me?" I asked.
"We assumed you were aware," she said. "Since it was Mr Crowne —"
I nodded cutting her off gently.
"That makes sense."
And it did and afterall he was the one that got the place. Not having your own money makes you put up with things you shouldn't.
"We didn't mean to overstep."
"I know," I said after a second, softer now. "It's not on you. Did they leave anything behind?"
"I don't believe so," she replied. "They were very thorough."
"Can I have the key? I'd like to check."
"Of course."
I unlocked the door and pushed it open and they were truly indeed thorough even though it wasn't like I had much properties.
[Unknown number: It's 9:00pm. The driver is outside.]
"Unbelievable," I muttered.
I let out a sigh, turned and stepped out of the apartment without lingering.
–+–
The drive felt shorter this time, maybe because I didn't have the energy to think.
I stepped into the house, my eyes drifting slowly across the space. The chairs, the linens, almost everything was black. The only break in it all was a stretch of deep, muted blue along one wall in the living room.
It was the only thing in the entire house that felt… alive.
Darius stood a few feet away, his phone pressed to his ears.
"Yes," he was saying. "Move the meeting to Thursday. I don't care about the conflict. Fix it "
He didn't turn when I entered.
I stood there awkwardly for a moment unsure of what to do with myself, before settling my bag down quietly.
"....handle it," he finished, ending the call.
"You're here," he said.
"Yes. You moved everything without telling me."
"You would have delayed it."
'I would have'
"You don't know that."
"I do. The cleaner comes four times a week. The chef comes once."
I frowned.
"Once?" I asked. "For a house like this?"
"I'm rarely home."
"That explains the emptiness,"
It came out louder than I expected but he said nothing to that, instead he turned and started toward the staircase.
"Your room is upstairs."
The hallway upstairs was just as polished and impersonal as the rest of the house.
We stopped near the staircase.
"Which room?" I asked.
He didn't hesitate.
"The one with black panty on the handle."
I stood there staring at him, looking for the smallest hint that he was joking. He was smirking.
I blinked. "I'm sorry... What?"
"The one with black panty on the handle."
"I heard you the first time."
"Then why are you asking again?"
"Because I thought maybe I misheard something completely insane."
"...You're unbelievable." I added.
"That's not new information."
I exhaled through my nose. Living here is going to be temporary afterall its just a year, what could go wrong?
I got to a room and sure enough, a black lace panty hung loosely on the handle.
'Here's to hoping it hasn't been worn by his other ladies'
I pushed it open.
The bed was neatly made, the sheets cream and the curtains were a light grey that let in just enough of the city glow from outside.
On the bed was a rose.
My suitcase sat at the foot of the bed, my clothes already unpacked and arranged neatly inside the open wardrobe.
A quiet knock sounded against the doorframe a few minutes later.
I turned.
Darius leaned against it, his sleeves rolled up slightly now.
"You found it."
"The black pant was unnecessary," I replied. "And you could have just said second door to the left."
"That wouldn't have been memorable."