Diamonds Are Not Forever

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE
Elliot

I was shocked to find my bed empty that morning when I woke up, most women didn't have the inclination to leave the morning after the night before. Most had to be told to go. But not Juliette, she'd managed to sneak out unnoticed before I'd even turned over in my sleep.
The sight of her sodden clothes piled up on my bathroom floor when I'd gone to get a shower before my early morning meeting made me chuckle to myself, I knew she wouldn't have left my apartment naked. So, it was no surprise that when I got to my closet to pick out a suit and tie, a shirt and my favourite pair of linen pants were missing.
After quickly getting dressed and checking the time on my wristwatch, I had enough time to go and collect the remnants of her outfit up off the tiles of the bathroom and throw them into the wash basket for my housekeeper to attempt to restore. My hands lingered a little too long over her white lace bra as I threw the heap of fabric into the basket. The thought of her in nothing but that bra, pressed against the glass of my shower door, it made my morning erection harden.
Not to sound vulgar, but I felt lighter after my night with her.
Not physically lighter.
Well...maybe a little more physically lighter.
But also like a tonne of tension had melted away from my shoulders and back. I'd been so stressed out by all the pressure my father was applying on me to step up and take a more active role in Truman & Sons since he'd decided he wanted to retire early, I'd not done anything other than work, drink, and fight with Maya.
Then, when Maya broke up with me, I didn't have access to the one physical pursuit that always put me in a good mood. Maya was a bitch, and we fought like cat and dog the whole 8 months we had officially been dating. But my God, she knew how to fuck.
I didn't realise how much I'd missed that, until Juliette had tumbled into my arms outside the club, then tumbled into my bed.
Juliette had more than served her purpose.
Call it morbid curiosity that had caused our night together to come into fruition. Whatever it was, I felt like the transaction was satisfactory on both sides. She got to go on with her life and tell the story to her friends of how the rich guy fucked her senseless in his penthouse, and I got the boost I needed to head into what was probably going to be a head fuck of a meeting with my father, now with a relatively clearer mind.

I rode the lift down to the lobby in a comfortable silence, adjusting my dark blue tie in the mirror as the lift came to a slow stop and the doors opened with a satisfying ding.
Barney, the buildings security guard, was still sprawled out in his chair behind the lobby desk - exactly where I had left him. When I gave him a curt nod, he responded with a huge yawn. "You still here Barney?" I asked out of curiosity more than politeness.
"Working a 10pm-10am shift." He grumbled, kicking his black boots up on the clean white marble desk and throwing his arms behind his head. I checked the wall clock behind him, it was only 8:45am, poor fucker.
I set off walking to the exit when he called out after me. "Hold up Mr. Truman." That was the longest interaction I'd ever had with Barney, he wasn't a man of many words – and I liked that about him. When I turned on my heels to find out what the hell he wanted, he'd already shot up from behind the desk and rushed around it, so he was only a few strides away from me.
"I found this on the floor of the lobby earlier," He was a little out of breath from his sudden movement, his chest heaving as he held out his open palm to me. "Figured it must belong to your lady friend who came through here earlier."
Nestled in his palm was a coiled-up gold belcher chain, attached to it a delicate gold heart shaped locket. I instinctively held out my own palm and Barney tipped the necklace into my hand.
It was deceptively heavy, I ran my thumb over the cool metal, the clasp on the side of the locket springing open and revealing a fold of four gold heart-shaped frames that flicked open into the shape of a shamrock. In the top frame, the one attached to the bail of the locket, sat a grainy picture of a man in his mid-40's. He had a disarming toothy smile, broad and bright. Following along, two more old pictures presented themselves, one of an old man with a stock of grey hair holding a smiley red-haired toddler on his lap. Next to it, a photograph of two women with their arms tightly wrapped around each other and their heads flung back in laughter. The last and most recently taken photo was of a young boy, maybe aged around 10, with a mop of curly red hair and dark brown eyes. He had his face scrunched up and his tongue stuck out to whoever was taking the photo. I knew instantly he had to be related to Juliette, he was her double.
Gently folding the frames back on their hinges and clipping the locket securely back into place, I pulled out my wallet and slid the chain into one of the zip compartments, then slotted it soundly back into the breast pocket of my jacket. "Thanks Barney, I'll make sure she gets it back."