She walked up to the gate, which was even higher than Donovan’s parents. She could barely see the house from the edge of the driveway, which looked as though it went on forever. She tapped the buzzer next to a camera and waited. Hopefully, the owner would just hear the buzz and let her say what she needed to say without having to confront them face-to-face.
Whoever was on the other end simply buzzed her in, and she waited as the gate opened slowly, allowing her to see the extent of the immaculate yard that surrounded the white and brown mansion. It had to be at least double the size of Donovan’s parents’ house. She knew that some of the houses in Malibu were owned by celebrities and the elite of California, but she’d yet to see such a massive house. Most of the neighbors’ houses were obscured by trees and tall plaster walls, where the owners could have privacy to do whatever they wanted - including ridiculously loud pool parties.
As she made her way down the white gravel driveway, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was trespassing. Could she be charged? She didn’t figure that would be the case, especially since she’d been buzzed in. At the very least, they would be able to see her on the cameras entering as though she was invited, if the neighbor decided to call the police.
The closer she got to the house, the louder the voices and the music became. She could smell meat from a BBQ from where she was walking, and people were jumping into the pool behind the house. She wasn’t able to see anything from beyond the mansion, which took up most of the front lot.
The driveway was packed with cars, most of them high-end luxury brands. She wondered whether they belonged to her neighbor or their guests. Many people who lived in Malibu collected luxury vehicles and drove them down the streets when the weather was perfect. California always had the perfect weather for driving, as though it was made especially for wealthy people who loved their cars.
She huffed the moment she reached the bottom of the front steps. There was a doorman and she laughed to herself lightly. Seriously? Who needed a doorman in the middle of the day, unless it was a charity event or gala? It seemed a little excessive.
She could tell she didn’t look the part of a visitor from the expression on the doorman’s face as she approached. She caught her breath at the top of the steps and faced the young man, who was wearing a black and white uniform with the name of a company on the front pocket of his shirt. “Hi, there,” Violet said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “I’m wondering if the owner’s here? I’m actually his neighbor and I’d like to speak to him.”
The doorman grimaced, clearly unsure of what to do. “Have you met him before? He asked me only to let in people who were invited.”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m going in anyway,” Violet stated, opening the door herself. “He needs to know that his party’s too loud and it’s bothering the neighborhood.”
The doorman followed after her and tried to grab her arm. “Shouldn’t you just call the police, then?”
She caught her breath the moment she walked into the mansion. It was even larger than she expected. Immaculately tiled granite floor with a long set of spiraling stairs stood to her right. She saw that the ceilings were at least twenty feet high, and a crystal chandelier dangled from the white ceiling. The place was perfectly polished and she saw that the house was, for the most part, open concept. Straight ahead of her was the kitchen and a domed ceiling, which had numerous windows letting in the sunset’s vivid colors.
She peeled her eyes away from the immaculate interior design, which screamed class and old money. “Can you help me, or not? I’m looking for-”
“Me?”
She heard a voice above the music and the conversations outside. She spun around towards the office near the stairs, which had floor to ceiling bookcases along each of its walls. He stepped through the open door of the room and she felt her heart skip a beat.
He looked like him.
It couldn’t be, could it? He was the spitting image of the gentleman she’d met in Greece. That sweet, handsome stranger that had captured her attention and held it ever since she’d left. It wasn’t possible.
“Are you the owner of this house?” Violet asked him, placing her hands on her hips, as thought it would give her an air of superiority.
“Yes. I am. And who are you?”
“Well, if you heard me talking earlier, then you would know,” she stated, trying to stand straighter. She definitely didn’t look as though she belonged within three feet of the mansion. She was still in her jogging pants and had her hair in a loose bun, allowing for bits of hair to fall alongside her face. She pushed her glasses up her nose, trying in some way to fix what couldn’t be fixed - her appearance. “I live next door. I work from home and it’s hard to get any work done with all this noise happening over here.”
He looked her up and down, as though he was scrutinizing her. Could it really be him? There were plenty of doppelgangers out there. The chances of this guy being the same man that she’d wanted to be whisked away with in Greece were far too slim. They were, after all, back to the other side of the world. Things like that just didn’t happen.
“Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I thought it would be easier just to ask you to lower the music a little.”
He was playing with her. Obviously, he knew that she would be wasting the LAPD’s time if she called about a noise complaint at that hour. It wasn’t until later that they would respond to something like that.
“We can do that. Sorry to have made you come all this way.”
“Thanks,” she said, and began to leave the house, not wanting to be around him any longer, especially not the way she was dressed. “You don’t have to turn it down completely. Just a little. It’s so loud I can hear it inside my house and my windows aren’t even open.”
“Which house do you live in?”
She pointed to the right of the mansion. “I live at the house next door on that side.”
“Well,” he said, taking a sip from the drink in his hand. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try to be more aware of the noise from this point on.”
She left the house and, before she could say another word, the doorman closed the front door in her face. She stared at the brown door and waited for someone to apologize. Still, there was nothing, and the music didn’t seem to have faded at all.
She crossed her arms and turned away from the front door, avoiding the gazes from a few girls who had just pulled up to the house in a Porsche. Her bun was flopping alongside the top of her head as she quickened her steps, not wanting to be there anymore. She didn’t want the looks from people, and she didn’t want to think of him having seen her the way she looked in that moment. Especially if he was the stranger from Greece.
Anyone but him.
Chapter Five
Liam
His head was pounding when he woke. It felt as though there was a second heartbeat in his forehead. He rolled over in his king-sized bed, squinting his eyes against the sunlight. His body felt as though he’d run into a brick wall, each muscle feeling as though it was seizing beneath his skin. Each movement was torture.
Still, it had been a decent night.
He brushed his hand through the crumpled sheets next to him and sighed when he discovered no one next to him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t gone to bed with anyone - it was that she’d left, as he’d asked her to do. Never let them stay the night. That was his first rule. Once they started staying over, that was when you knew that they were bad news. Women had the frustrating habit of making themselves at home when you showed them too much attention.