8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Tasha
The headlights of my old car slice through the murky night.
The city is still shrouded in darkness as I navigate the quiet streets. I couldn’t sleep at all, my mind swirling with thoughts of Brody’s offer to live in his guest wing.
The idea of sharing space with him sends a deep flutter of excitement and deep anxiety through me.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Brody’s chiseled features, the strong lines of his jaw, and those burning amber eyes that seem to pierce right through me.
It’s a heady mix of admiration and disbelief, and I can’t help but smile at the very thought of him.
Am I really going to be living in the same house as him? Will we be fucking every night, maybe not even able to go to work the next day?
I can barely contain the butterflies dancing in my chest at the thought of laying in his bed for hours, letting him worship me, and I feel a warmth creeping up my cheeks just imagining what it might be like.
I pull into the office parking garage, grateful that my car hasn’t stalled out yet. It rumbles a little but keeps going, a true miracle for this beat-up old thing. I throw it in park, stepping out and taking a moment to collect myself before heading inside.
“Just give me a few months until I have enough to replace you, okay?” I mutter to the car, patting the hood affectionately. “Then you can go to the great junkyard in the sky. Or in rural Illinois at least.”
With a sigh, I shake off the nerves and step into the fluorescent glow of the office, ready to tackle the day ahead. The workday drags on, a whirlwind of tasks and phone calls that leaves my head spinning.
Normally we are at the job site, but today is one of those mundane office days, and boy, am I happy I don’t have to sit behind a desk all week long .
I’m buried under a mountain of paperwork and emails, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Brody’s offer.
How is this even possible? I just started this job, and now I’m going to be living with my boss?
The nerves flutter in my stomach like a thousand little butterflies, and I can’t seem to shake them off.
Every time I catch a glimpse of him walking past, my heart races. A fleeting smile, a soft laugh, even just a wink from him is enough to soak my panties and make my heart race.
But the idea of moving my things from Jasmine's apartment to his place is daunting and fills me with a mild dread. It’s not just about packing up clothes and books; it’s the reality of intertwining my life with his, however casually.
Roommates. We’d be like roommates.
I try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind wanders to how it will feel to be in his space, to share meals, and maybe even share late-night conversations.
I won’t even contemplate my other questions about the more intimate things we might do. I need to be able to work without dissolving into a puddle of constant arousal.
Around midday, Brody walks over, his expression serious but kind. “Hey, Tasha. Do you need to grab your stuff from Jasmine’s place? I can meet you after work, and we can head to my house together after you get your stuff,” he says.
“Sounds great,” I say, giving him a meek smile and walking away. Being in the corporate office today, I want to establish some space between us, even if my entire body is dying for his touch.
Later, when I take a break, I pull out my phone and see he’s sent me a text with his address. My eyes widen as a massive mansion pops up when I search the address.
Is this really what his place looked like that night? It must have been really dark…or I was really distracted.
I can’t believe it. Brody lives in a stunning home on a sprawling ranch. The reality of my new life hits me hard, and I can’t help but feel a thrill at the thought of being part of his world.
As I drive to Jasmine's apartment at the end of the day, tears already prick at the corners of my eyes. I can’t believe this is actually happening. Pulling into the parking lot, I take a deep breath, steeling myself before stepping out of the car.
The autumn chill in the air matches the weight in my chest.
I open the front door to find her living room mostly empty, the remnants of her life scattered around: boxes labeled with scribbled words, furniture ready to be picked up by new owners.
It all hits me hard, like a brick to the face.
“Jasmine,” I whisper, stepping inside, my arms are already outstretched for a hug.
She stands in the center of the room, looking just as lost as I feel.
Without thinking, I rush to her, and we hug tightly, the world outside fading away. In this moment, it’s just us, two best friends clinging to each other as we acknowledge the reality of our separation.
“Will you come visit me in Vegas?” Jasmine asks, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes.
“Of course!” I say, forcing a smile, though my heart aches.
“What about the holidays? Are you coming back to visit?” I ask, needing that reassurance.
“Definitely. I’ll be back!” she replies, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
I grab my packed bags, the weight of my belongings a reminder of the change ahead. We walk out together, closing the door on this chapter of our lives.
Wiping away the tears that have escaped, I drive back to the office, trying to focus on the road ahead.
I have to meet Brody at the office, and somehow, I need to pull it together before I get there.
As I pull into the parking lot, I spot Brody in his truck, and the moment our eyes meet, he flashes me a wink. My cheeks heat up, and I can’t help but smile back as I park my old car next to his.
After a quick adjustment of my hair in the rearview mirror, I take a deep breath and follow him out of the lot.
We hit the road, and the scenery starts to shift dramatically.
The towering skyscrapers of the city fade into the distance, replaced by the wide, open spaces of rural Illinois.
A sense of freedom washes over me as I follow Brody’s truck down the highway, flanked by endless fields stretching toward the horizon. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light that spills over everything, giving the landscape a dreamy glow.
Sprawling fields of corn stand tall on either side, their hardened, tan stalks swaying gently in the evening breeze, while clusters of spent wildflowers punctuate the rows with splashes of dull color.
I catch glimpses of grazing cows, their silhouettes framed against the vibrant orange and pink sky, and I can smell the faint, sweet scent of hay mingling with the crisp evening air.
Quaint farmhouses nestle among sprawling pastures, white picket fences framing gardens bursting with fading flowers. It’s so picturesque.
A rusty red barn appears in the distance, its weathered wood telling stories of hard work and tradition. The peacefulness of the countryside envelops me, a welcome contrast to the hectic pace of the city.
Dimming sunlight filters through the branches of trees along the road, creating dappled patterns on the ground. We take a sudden turn onto a winding country road, bordered by trees that arch overhead, their leaves rustling softly in the wind.
I steal glances at Brody’s truck as we navigate the curves, my heart racing at the thought of being in his world all the time. The butterflies return as I imagine my new life with him, this unexpected journey unfolding before me amidst the beauty of rural Illinois.
As I follow Brody, my heart races with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. My little beater car, with its faded paint and numerous dings, feels like a clumsy companion trailing behind the impressive vehicle.
I try to keep my focus on the road ahead, but my thoughts keep drifting back to what lies at the end of this drive.
When we finally arrive, I pull up to his home, a stunning mansion that seems to stretch endlessly toward the sky. The sprawling property is surrounded by manicured lawns, vibrant flower beds bursting with color, and towering trees that stand like sentinels guarding the place.
My mouth falls open as I take in the grandeur of it all.
I shake my head, looking at Brody as I get out of my car.
“I don’t remember it being this big.”
He laughs. I shouldn’t be surprised; he’s the CEO of a successful construction company, after all.
The house is easily the nicest I’ve ever seen, its elegant facade is adorned with intricate brickwork and large windows that reflect the golden glow of the setting sun. A spacious porch wraps around the front, inviting and warm, with rockers that look perfect for sipping coffee on a lazy morning.
But then a wave of insecurity crashes over me; my upbringing isn’t something that I’ve kept exclusively hidden, but I come from a world that people might call "trailer trash”.
My childhood was filled with cramped spaces and the smell of grease from takeout dinners, not expansive kitchens and well-decorated living rooms.
The sheer opulence of Brody’s home feels overwhelming to me in this moment, and I can’t help but wonder if I truly belong here.
“Come on,” Brody says to me, coming to help me with my bags. “I bet Dana has dinner ready.”
I drift after him toward the house, still feeling a bit like an imposter and wondering if I made the right choice.
I'm immediately embraced by a cozy, sophisticated charm as I step inside Brody’s rustic cabin-style mansion. A massive stone fireplace dominates the far wall, its flames flickering softly, casting a golden glow across the room.
The expansive living room boasts high, vaulted ceilings made of exposed beams, and the walls are adorned with rich, dark wood paneling that radiates warmth.
Through the large windows, I can see the breathtaking view of the valley beyond. The sun is setting, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange, pink, and purple, while the rolling hills are cloaked in a soft, golden hue.
It’s a picturesque scene that feels almost like a painting, and for a moment, I’m captivated by the beauty of it all. Overhead, pendant lights with a rustic flair hang from the beams, illuminating the space with a warm, inviting light.
The scent of something delicious wafts through the air, drawing me toward the kitchen. Dana greets me with a warm smile, her bright eyes sparkling with kindness.
“Welcome, Tasha!” she beams, her smile making the space feel even more inviting. “Brody told me to expect you. Come on in!”
As we step into the kitchen, my eyes widen at the sight of a beautifully arranged dinner spread out on the large dining room table.
I lean in closer, curiosity piqued. “Is this cream of rice and bread-wrapped steak?”
Brody chuckles from across the table, a hint of amusement dancing in his amber eyes. “Well, in a restaurant, they’d call it Beef Wellington and risotto.”
"Ah, got it. Gordon Ramsay style," I say as I eye what I imagine is a perfectly baked Beef Wellington, with its flaky golden crust glistening under the soft lights.
I don't think anyone will be yelling about it being 'fucking raw' tonight.
On the contrary, I can almost taste the buttery pastry that encases the tender beef, and the rich aroma of herbs and roasted garlic fills the air. My mouth is watering.
The risotto also looks creamy and inviting, sprinkled with vibrant green parsley that adds a pop of color.
I feel my cheeks heat with a mix of embarrassment and amusement, but as I look around, I realize no one else seems bothered by my ignorance.
Their warm smiles and genuine laughter envelop me, making me feel more at home.
It’s a far cry from my upbringing, and the warmth of this moment fills me with an intense sense of belonging I never knew I was missing.