Chapter 1
1085 Words
KENNEDY
"Aaaahhhh...it feels so amazing,"
He chuckles as he says, "Your hands are wonderfully warm; if I weren't married, I might ask for your hand."
"Kennedy won't even be interested in you; you're too old for her," his wife said from another massage table near him.
In return, I chuckle. Since I began working at Dolce Carezza, Mr. and Mrs. Collins have been regular clients.
My work as a masseuse is really beneficial to my day-to-day needs. Art school is not cheap.
It's been five years since I graduated. I still haven't paid off my student loan, and I haven't even booked my own exhibit.
I continue to rely on referrals from my customers here, such as Mr. and Mrs. Collins.
This place provides all of the connections I'll need to break into the art scene. Dolce Carezza caters to the industry's wealthiest and most powerful individuals. This location offers solitude, relaxation, and a high-quality massage.
All I have to do now is identify the appropriate people to turn to in order to attain my goals.
Mrs. Collins inquired, "How's your painting coming along, Kennedy?"
I jokingly replied, "It's still collecting dust in the attic of my grandmother's house."
"I doubt that," they said in unison. "I heard the last work you displayed in one of my friend's exhibits was sold,"
said Mr. Collins.
"Organizing an art show involves a lot of time, energy, and, most importantly, money, which I don't have," I explained.
It is costly to rent a space for an art show. Apart from the location, I still needed to concentrate on promotion and advertising to sell my artwork. To finish all of my pieces, I'll need to take some time off from work.
But I can't do that if I don't want to end up sleeping on New York's streets.
Mr. Collins inquired, "Didn't you get enough money from the gallery?"
"I sold all of my pieces," I explained, "but the money I earned from there was barely enough to pay for my rent."
"Don't worry," Mrs. Collins continued, "I'll make sure to refer you to another exhibit where you can display your pieces."
Mrs. Collins, I replied, "That would be a big help."
A woman like me has no place in the art world. I can't tell you how many times I've attempted to give up my painting hobby.
However, I continue to return to the single thing that keeps me going.
I was startled when I was disrupted by a loud noise coming from the outside. When I heard a loud baritone voice shouting across the hallway, I scowled.
"Get these disgusting scumbags out of here!"
Hearing his deep and powerful voice startled and terrified me. I'm not sure what possessed me, but I felt compelled to walk outside and check what was going on.
Mrs. Collins inquired, "What's all the uproar about?"
I saw an opportunity to have an excuse to go out and check.
"Please stay here while I confirm what's going on out there."
Both of them exchanged glances before shrugging their shoulders and reclining on the massage table.
I exited the private massage room to see what was going on in the hallway. I was expecting a brawl, but when I saw two women kneeling on the floor pleading forgiveness, I gasped.
"I'm very sorry. I won't do it again. Please don't kick me out," the unknown woman apologized.
This establishment's employee is the other woman beside her. She's one of the personnel assigned to the Royal clients of this building, as far as I recall. The term "royal clientele" refers to people who spend additional money in order to get whatever they want, as long as it isn't illegal.
The two women kneeling on the floor, however, were not the ones who surprised me the most.
When my gaze fell on the finely chiseled physique wrapped in nothing but a white towel around his waist, I held my breath.
As I watched his body shimmer from the oil that had been applied to it, I swallowed.
When my gaze landed on him, I let out a scream of terror. His look seemed to seep into my very soul.
His heavy brows and steely blue eyes screamed danger. His cleft chin and kissable lips are complemented by the stubble that runs against his pointed jaw.
I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I know I'll get burned if I touch him, but I still want to.
When he began walking in my direction, I instinctively took a step back. Rather than leaving the area, I remained and waited for him to approach me.
I was still staring into his eyes when I realized he wasn't staring at me. Instead, he was staring at the person who was standing behind me.
He yelled at my manager, who was behind me, "I didn't pay a lot of money for this sort of service!"
I was now in the middle between him and my boss.
When I realized I wasn't the one who he was looking at, I buried my face in shame. Even though we were in close proximity, he had not spotted me. Even if I'm already standing between them, I'm aware that he won't be able to see me.
To a man like him, a woman like me is irrelevant.
My manager responded, "I-I don't understand what's going on here, young master."
He tightened his lips in rage, "Your employee let an intruder inside my chamber."
The employee justified herself, saying, "She told me she was your girlfriend, young master."
He insisted, "I don't care what she says; you're not here to listen to her commands; you're here to listen to mine."
"I don't want to see her face again."
The manager hurriedly replied, "Y-Yes, young master."
This time, I took a step back and entered the room where my customer was awaiting my arrival.
"What's going on outside?" Mr. and Mrs. Collins inquired as soon as I entered the massage room.
"It's just a minor issue, but I'm sure management is doing all possible to resolve it."
I had to force myself to concentrate on my work. I tried to forget the man's attractive yet threatening appearance from earlier.
I shook my head violently, trying to shake the image of his practically nude body from my mind. I'm not sure how I managed to finish my work with nothing but his alluring physique playing over and over in my head.
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- Writer
