By three in the morning, I give up. I learn a lot about Bella's social circles, the fact that she has no parents because of the obituary posted on a funeral home's web page. She's all alone, a little orphan drifting through New York City. She's lost every fucking thing she ever had in life, getting by on checks for renting out her parent's old house in Harlem and this dead-end hotel housekeeping job.
I lay back and close my eyes, determined to have a decent conversation with the gorgeous woman in my bed later.
— *** —
I wake up by sunlight — something that hasn't happened very often in my time in New York. I reach an arm out but find nothing except for crumbled sheets.
Fuck.
It's ten-thirty and my room is empty. When I get up, I notice the stacked fresh towels in front of the door, note on top.
well-deserved, fresh towels.
I smirk at her neat little handwriting and go take a shower. When I get out, towel around my waist, I grab my phone. It's eleven and I still haven't seen her. She's surely off work by now, and I just can't cope with the fact little Doe walked out on me. I let out a frustrating sigh before I sit on the foot of the bed, my thumbs moving quickly over the keyboard.
Doe, why was my bed empty this morning?
She doesn't respond until an hour later and I'm neck-deep in paperwork and unread emails I really have to start dealing with. I need to go back home soon, too, because I'm not making any fucking money like this, lurking around in a New York hotel room, catching feelings for the girl who should've died a week ago. I'm a fucking moron, falling for this girl. She's so off-limits it's not even funny, but I can't help myself. I've never felt this way.
It wasn't a date … And I had work.
Little Doe, you're so fucking stubborn.
I sigh and run my hands through my hair before I get dressed, a bag filled with dirty laundry on my shoulder and fix my hair in the mirror before I leave my hotel room.
— *** —
There's a bell with a label next to it, the writing worn off but it has to be hers. It's the only studio above the restaurant.
Anxious and fucking nervous, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket and wait as I ring it, twice.
"Who is it?" Her voice is quiet through the old speakers.
"Your one-night-stand," I answer, chuckling as I hear her sigh.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"You gonna let me in?"
The buzzer unlocks the door and I close it behind me before walking up, taking two stairs at a time.