The Heart Thief

the heart thief- |05|

Millie

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

I was so preoccupied with my work that I lost track of time. When I noticed the time, I felt a pang of unease. I didn't have time to go back home and change. I knew it wasn't a date, but I still had to fix my hair and makeup in the restroom, applying a double layer of black mascara to my lashes and powdering my face. Then I stained my lips with a dusky red and smoothed my hair out, leaving it down and curly. I was wearing something decent — a navy blue button-down blouse and pants with heels.

Roman had to be wealthy to afford to live in Hills because the houses there were worth millions of dollars. And yet, it's nothing to worry about. Even though he was wealthy, my opinion of him remained unchanged, and I was still perplexed as to why he would want to help me. It made him appear unrealistic, because, let's face it, Roman didn't waste his time on people like me.

Security had already been notified of my presence, so all I had to do was show my ID to gain access to the elevator. Roman lived on the eighth floor. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I noticed a single door in the dimly lit hallway. I rang the doorbell and took a step back. It didn't take long for the white door to be opened. When I realized no one was there, my features became confused. Planting one leg forward, I pushed the other to move until I was inside the house, blinded by the silver marble flooring and floor-to-ceiling windows — but mostly blinded by the man leaning against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets.

This guy was just as attractive as Roman. Yes, Roman had competition in terms of appearance and body. I could almost taste the broken hearts. His seductive smile dares me to fall for him; well, I could literally fall right now because I tripped over a shoe — a freaking shoe — because life decided now was the time to make a fool of myself. There is nothing in life that would surprise me anymore. Either way, life humiliated me, so life gets another point.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground and busted a lip or end up with a sore. The arms that kept me upright were warm. I managed to pull myself up and away from him, clearing my throat and brushing a strand of stubborn curls away from my face.

"Are you okay?" That voice, that accent. It sent tingles down my toes.

"Y...yeah, I'm fine," I managed to say without making another fool out of myself. My gaze was drawn to his, and I noticed the vivid blue in his eyes. His features were angular, as was his jaw. His pink lips curved in a smirk, his lashes were long, and his hair was cropped short. He was dressed casually in a shirt and jeans that hung dangerously low on his lean hips.

I saw recognition and amusement in his eyes, and I struggled to remember if we had met for him to look at me as if he was familiar with me, but if we had, I would remember him. He'd be hard to forget.

"You're not Roman."

His slow, growing smile was maddening. "No, of course not. I'm Isaac, and you must be Millie." He extended his hand for me to shake. His hands remained warm. Isaac drew back his hands and crossed them behind his back.

A light bulb flickered in my head. "Oh, you're that friend," I stated, wanting to sound normal but unable to hide the annoyance inflicted in my voice. "The one who told him not to help me out." I didn't even know why I was annoyed.