“Uh, thanks,” she mumbled, slipping into the backseat, settling on the expensive plush. This car is nicer inside than my whole apartment. “So you work for Benedict, I assume?” What a ridiculous question.
“Indeed,” he nodded, turning the wheel and inching the vehicle silently down the street. It was smooth, a well oiled machine in every sense. “I'm Mr. Vance's personal chauffeur, he usually sends me for his important clients.”
So I'm an important client, am I? Turning slightly, Judith watched the city move past out the window, taking note of where they were going. It was obvious, quickly, that they were heading out of the dregs of LA and into the nicer upper areas of Hollywood. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that he'd have a house up here.
The colors turned from brown and gold, to fresh green and white. The road was winding, curling along so she had a lovely view of the city below. It was a landscape she didn't get to enjoy much, she found herself like a wide-eyed child in glee. It's easy to forget how beautiful this city is when you're down on your luck.
It wasn't a long drive, the car turned around a sharp bend then slowed before a pair of wrought iron gates. Judith almost giggled, the sheer cliché nature of it all filling her with giddiness. They rolled through the barrier as it parted, the path turning into paved brick.
The house finally came into view.
That's no house, that's a god damn mansion!
Judith covered her mouth, baffled by the sheer size of the place. The land was surrounded by lemon and fig trees, hiding the home from the outside world. It was a picturesque realm of privacy, green and alive and so unlike the area she lived in.
The house sprawled with shingled roofs, tall tower like spires; old school in style and in complete contrast of the Spanish adobe style homes in LA. Lorraine had said Benedict was a big donor to the college. It had been implied he was well off, but this was simply outlandish.
“Here we are,” the driver said casually, pulling around the side and parking on a flat circle of stone. There were other cars there, shining bright in a rainbow of color.
But Judith was still just gawking up at the mansion.
“Benedict lives here?”
“Of course,” the driver said.
Shaking her head, she sat there until the older man exited, coming around to open her door. He offered a hand, but she didn't take it. Sliding out into the air, the red-head craned her neck to try and see the whole house at once. “This is amazing,” she stated. The driver flashed a slight smile, closing her door, gesturing.
“Follow me, please, Ms. Flight.”
Both him and Benedict, calling me that, it makes me sound so important. I'm too young to be a Ms. Anything.
The pair entered through the tall front door, the wood pure white, the handle bronze and sparkling. Inside, Judith inhaled sharply, staring around at the view before her.
The entrance room was huge, a wide circle that extended upwards. From the plush carpet under her, to the sparkling chandeliers above, the whole place was opulent. A curling staircase stretched from her left, going up and around a long hallway above. She turned, spotting bookshelves, windows, and plush couches arranged with style.
In the walls there were several wide openings, clearly leading to other rooms. As she let her gaze roam, Judith noticed only one door was closed. It was set into the side of the giant staircase, bright red, like it was coated in lacquer. It was out of place among all the pearl and ivory.
She had so many questions, yet she was too overwhelmed to voice them.
“Ms. Flight,” a familiar voice called, causing her to look at the railing above. Benedict watched her, leaning against the curling wood that kept him from falling to his death. He was dressed as sharp as the first time, dark charcoal and a crisp jacket. In one hand, she saw he had a small glass, but she couldn't tell what he was drinking. “I'm glad you made it, how was the drive?”
“Good,” she said too quietly. “Uh, good! It was very scenic.”
He nodded, waltzing down the stairs in such a relaxed manner. Swirling his glass, he took another sip, then gestured to the driver with it. “Thank you, Corbin, you can go. I might need you later, if Ms. Flight desires to return home.”
'If' I desire to return home? She was puzzled by the way he had worded that.
Corbin, as he was apparently called, bowed his head to the both of them. In a second, he'd exited out the front door. As it closed crisply, it finally hit Judith. I'm alone with Benedict.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs, seeming to consider her with those curious eyes of his. “Welcome, officially, to my home.”
Watching his elegant hand, how it drummed on the hard railing, she laughed uneasily. “Thanks, it's quite... I mean, I don't even know how to put this. It's amazing, really.”
“Thank you,” he inclined his head, then reached out to offer her his hand. “Let me show you around.”
She hoped, when she reached out and took that smooth palm, that he didn't notice how sweaty her own was.
Together, they wandered up into the hall above, a long length of white wall on one side, railing on the other. The view below was beautiful, Judith could see the front door, the luxuriously designed carpet, and once more, that alluring red door.
Benedict led her along the corridor, pointing out a room here or there, from studies to foyers to grand marble bathrooms. She noticed a number of bedrooms, but none that looked particularly lived in. The tour continued downstairs, where she found a beautiful kitchen. It was modern in its touches, despite the mansion's vintage feel.
A pair of huge sliding glass doors displayed the backyard, shady green grass and purple flowers. More notably, a refreshing looking pool shaped like a kidney bean.
There was clearly much more to see, but Benedict walked her back to the kitchen, pouring her a drink. “Do you like it?” he asked, handing her the suspiciously crystal glass, a thing that made Judith nervous just to hold.
“Oh, uh, I really shouldn't. I'm technically too young.”
Snorting, he poured another splash into the glass. “In Europe, it would be legal. Besides, who would ever know?”
Frowning, Judith squinted into the cup. Oh gosh, how expensive is this glass, or this wine, even? Sipping the red liquid, she watched him over the rim in thought. “You asked if I liked your house. It's very impressive, but it's also so big! Do you live here all alone?”
“Not entirely. I have a staff, and often clients or guests will come by.” Shrugging, he set his empty glass by the sink. “I entertain a lot, as well. Hence, why I wanted your services.”
“Right,” she blinked, trying to imagine how fancy a gathering here must be. How does he afford all of this? What does he do to make money? “Can you show me where I'm supposed to paint? I didn't see anywhere obvious in the rooms you showed me.” Lifting an eyebrow, a thought hit her. She pointed out of the kitchen towards the main entrance room. “It is out there?”
“Precisely,” he flashed those perfect pearly teeth.
Judith returned the smile, almost relieved. “I thought so, that red door was like, the only place you didn't show me. So is that another dining room down there, or—”
“No,” he snapped, startling her. For the first time since she had met him, Benedict's lovely features were twisted in a harsh frown. “No, not there.” His blue eyes softened, as if he had realized how curt his tone was. “Sorry, it's just... that room is off limits, is all.”
Remembering to breathe, Judith inhaled slowly, her smile forced and fragile. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't know.”
“Of course, how could you have?” Gesturing towards the archway, he guided her back out to the main room, standing in the middle beneath the chandelier.
Judith shot one look at that crimson door, wondering why his reaction had been so visceral. “So, you did say it was out here that I was painting, then where...?”
Benedict chuckled, and she followed his eyes as he rolled them up to the long length of white wall above. It was wher
e he had been standing when she entered, leaning on that intricate railing.
“I'm painting that?” She gasped, nearly dropping her wine glass. “That whole thing?”
“That is exactly, Ms. Flight, what I am hoping for.”
Looking at it again, taking in the size, the knowledge it would be the first thing people would see when they entered the mansion... Judith felt a flush of both pride, and fear. Lifting her glass, she drained the contents, then exhaled loudly.
“That's going to take me at least a week, Benedict.”
“I know, that's why I said I'd take care of anything you'd need.”
“Supplies, all that?”
Benedict tilted his head, reaching out to gently take her empty glass. “No, Ms. Flight. I mean anything.”
She felt a tingle at the base of her neck, his words seeming to have a double meaning. “I don't understand, what else could I need besides paints and such?”
Tapping a finger around the rim of the container, Benedict narrowed his cobalt eyes and laughed. “For starters, food. On top of that, as I said, I'm willing to let Corbin escort you back and forth. However...” He trailed off, his gaze moving back up to the hall. “There's a few spare rooms here, I'm more than happy to allow you to stay until this mural is complete.”
“Stay here?” she asked. The idea was exciting, but she also felt the rumble of nerves. Everything here is so expensive, what if I break something? “I... I'm not sure...”
“It's fine,” he said, lifting a hand as if to calm her. It didn't help, her heart still thrummed. “For now, let's just get the paperwork signed, and know that it is entirely an option. You're free to come, and to go, and I will outline in the contract what areas of my home you can peruse at your leisure.”
The way he said that, implying she wasn't allowed just anywhere, it made Judith shoot a curious glance at that red door over his shoulder.
“Shall we, then?” He beamed, those sharp cheek bones making his smile even harder.
“I... Yes, yes, let's do that.”
Once more he gave her his hand, and once more, she took it. This time, she knew it would be impossible not to notice how clammy her skin was. But more than that, how she trembled.
Chapter 4.
The contract ended up being far more in depth than Judith expected.
A stack of papers, thick as her wrist, outlined everything from liability, to time line, to rules of the house. Flipping through it, she had given it a once over before simply staring at Benedict. “Is this really necessary?”
“I have a very private life, Ms. Flight. I need you to understand what you can, and cannot, do while you are here.” He folded his hands together, watching her over them as he sat behind his grand desk. They had relocated to a study for the contract signing, a room entirely too dark for her taste. On the walls, she could see placards and awards, but she also couldn't help but notice a few bare sections. Recently bare, she felt, and wondered if some of her art from the gallery was meant for there.
“That's fine and all, Benedict, but this is just so much! Is there like, a break down, a summary? Just tell me the basics that will keep me from getting the letter of admission I need.” She heard her own frustration, and wondered if her faux professional aura had already cracked.
“I need you to read it all. But, if you want the basics, fine.” He lifted a hand, ticking off on his fingers as he spoke. “You can come and go as you please, but you're not allowed to bring anyone here without my permission. Eat any of the food in the fridge, but do not order takeout. If you need anything, just tell Corbin, he can get it for you. Don't go in my bedroom, it's the master room on the first floor. Don't take any photos, none of that social networking with images of my place or anything.”
Lifting an eyebrow, she heard the sarcasm in her voice. “Is that all?”
“No,” he returned her tone, “but you know the rest.”
“That red door, yeah. But you have to give me some leeway. I just want to know where it goes, why can't I see?”
“Because it's a rule,” he said slowly, deliberately. His eyes met her own; hard as sapphires, her own soft as a sparrow's feathers. “Can you follow rules, Ms. Flight?”
“Of course,” she sighed, trying to ease the mood with a gentle smile. “You can call me Judith, you know.”
“I prefer Ms. Flight. Now, please, sign.”
She pouted as he slid the contract closer to her. The restrictions weren't terrible, she had to admit. She ran her eyes over the page that explained what she did get; the food, the lavish bedroom, the letter. He even had given her access to a wardrobe of women's clothing, if she so chose to utilize it.
Why he had that collection of clothing, she had no clue.
It seems like an amazing deal. So why do I get this strange feeling there's something insidious going on here.
She scrawled her name and slid it back to him, feeling a strange knot in her belly as she officially agreed to the situation. “Well done,” he nodded, signing it as well. “I'll get you a copy later. For now, let me show you what you have to work with.”
Benedict brought her to a closet in the hallway, revealing contents that made her gasp. It was full of every sort of paint brush, every color she could ever need. Every supply was high quality, she knew it all cost a fortune. It was a painter's dream, and her grin was childlike in her excitement.
“But,” she asked, walking to the long stretch of white wall, brushing her fingers over it lightly. “What do you want me to paint here, exactly?”
“Whatever you'd like,” he shrugged. “I've loved everything you've painted that I've seen, I trust you to make the right choice yourself. It's you that I want,” he smirked, making Judith swallow through her suddenly dry throat.
She noticed, then, how close he was. The hall was tight, the railing inclining people to naturally stand near the wall. Benedict stood over her, his face sharp as a knife with the hard shadows. In her ears, her heart was deafening, her voice far away.
“Ah, um, what do you...”
“Your skill,” he whispered, eyes far deeper than she recalled them being. “What you can do, how you do it, that's what I'm after. Nothing you create could be wrong, because you made it, Ms. Flight.”
Judith wondered if he could hear her rapid breathing, or smell her fear. What is this, what does he mean? Benedict leaned back, softer and more relaxed. “Now, I have some things to take care of. If you need anything, just come find me. Barring that, call Corbin, he's the one who texted you this morning.”
On perfectly shined shoes, Benedict turned, silently trudging down the stairs as he headed down a hall below. She watched him go, only starting to control her pulse when she was sure he was out of earshot.
Slumping against the cool wall, she slid to the floor and gave a weak laugh.
What have I gotten myself into?
****
It was evening before she finally decided to take a break.
She had spent most of her time plotting out the general layout for the painting, then it was down to the slow process of prepping the wall. The section was long, it took her several steps to go from one end to the next. The left part ended at the staircase, the right connected with an archway that opened into other rooms, including her closet of paints, and the guest area she had been offered.
Wiping her forehead, she felt incredibly warm and sore, wondering if she was allowed to use the facilities for taking a shower. Benedict has the contract still, I don't have a copy, hmn. Frowning, she decided it would be safer to find him and just ask.
Wandering down the stairs, she passed by the red door, finding herself staring at it absently. Judith paused, turning her head to survey the entrance room. There's no one here, is there? Would he know if I peeked?
The idea was tempting, she chewed her lip in anticipation. Finally, she slumped her shoulders and forced herself to walk into the kitchen. No, I can't, I'm not ready to risk losing my chance at Sun Arts for something so dumb.
; Unsure where to find anything, she peered into the fridge, looking for water. She spotted a tray of delicious looking cupcakes. They made her stomach tight, reminding her she hadn't eaten all day. Ugh, can I eat those? I can't recall any of the rules, where is he?
She had no clue where Benedict might be. After strolling blankly down some halls, she returned to the kitchen and peered out the large glass doors. The yard was dim, night starting to creep in. The lights in the trees, on tall posts, gave everything a pretty glow. The pool, especially, was beautiful.
Pulling out her cellphone, she dialed Corbin.
“Hello?” The voice was polite, precise.
“Hey, this is Judith. Listen, I can't find Benedict. I have a question, is it alright if I use the pool here?”
“Of course, Mr. Vance instructed me to inform you, in this potential scenario, that there are bathing suites in the closet in the first guest room upstairs. Anything else?”
“...Can I eat the cupcakes in the fridge?”
****
Sometime later, the young woman was soaking in the delightfully warm water of the pool. The air was crisp, fresh, and she could hear insects chirping. Her elbows were propped up on the smooth stone around the edge, her lower body, clad in a teal bikini she had discovered, was submerged.
Gleefully, Judith reached over for her mostly empty tray, plucking up another pink cupcake. Chewing it thoughtfully, she giggled like a schoolgirl. Alright, this is pretty nice.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The voice made her jump, causing her to painfully swallow the chunk of food she had come close to choking on. There, standing in the open doorway of the kitchen, was Benedict. He was dressed in a tight tank top, a long pair of navy shorts. After seeing him in fancy outfits every time, Judith couldn't help but stare.
The fact she could see his arms, his defined shoulders where they almost shone in the outdoor lighting, wasn't helping. He smiled, his eyes hidden thanks to the effect of the back lighting from the kitchen.
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