Her Glamorous Beauty

“Of course not! I’m just staring at the garden,” Rebecca defended.

“I didn’t ask if you were looking at him. It seems that you’re really attracted to his popping muscles because you’re being insecure and protective right now.” She chuckled.

“Lucille, if you have nothing else to say, then get out!”

“But I just got here; don’t you want us to talk about the new gardener before I leave?” Lucille asked, making her young lady’s eyes widen in annoyance.

“I said, get out!” Rebecca’s voice grew louder.

“Okay. Enjoy watching him,” Lucille bantered before leaving.

Rebbecca emitted a long, deep, audible breath and stared back at the two men outside. She was surprised to see Emerson staring at her too with a flirty smile as he winked. With hidden but arousing admiration, Rebecca smiled back in her annoyed manner.

“Hey!” Mario exclaimed. “What are you looking at there?” He took a look up to where Emerson was staring, but he saw no one. Has Emerson lost his kindness? Why was he smiling like that?

“Do you have a fever or what?” Mario asked.

Meanwhile, Rebecca was just hiding herself beside the window in her bedroom. She didn’t want others to think that she was showing interest in their new gardener, but however she hid it, she knew that she didn’t know what she felt.

It wasn’t so obvious, but she was interested in seeing how he planted, trimmed the weeds, used the spade, hosed the plants, etcetera, etcetera. She wanted to make herself believe that he wasn’t attractive, but in the meantime, the contrary was shown in the way she acted.

When everything seemed to be singing a lullaby with the tedious afternoon and everyone was taking a rest, Emerson got out of their room while Mario was taking a nap. He didn’t want him to act like a boss who watched his every move.

“Where are you going?” Mario caught him sneaking out.

“I just want to go to the toilet,” Emerson said. “Do you want to join? Or can you stop watching me? You’re not giving me the right to act on my own. You’re not giving me privacy!” He complained.

“So you now know how to complain, though you don’t even know how to work here? I don’t really know why they took you as a gardener, though you know nothing to do,” Mario decried.

Emerson seemed to lose patience every time someone underestimated his ability to do something. He might have just suddenly spilled the beans about himself and killed that man, but he didn’t want to lose everything just because of him.

“If you’ve got nothing good to say, then I need to go,” Emerson stated.

“Okay, go, and never come back!” Mario exclaimed.

Emerson left the dormitory and sneakily went to the mansion. The espionage version of himself became active. It seemed unbelievable that the most-wanted hitman in the west would become a gardener just to further his task in the east.

In the very first hours after Emerson arrived, he had begun to memorize the bypasses so that he could easily make a plan of how to dispatch his target, and then he was taking a stab at carrying out his plan.

Everyone else was currently asleep; he saw no one in the farmstead. Even the guards that watch the gate were napping in the sentry box. Emerson went to the backyard of the mansion and looked for ways to get inside Rebecca’s room.

Without making any noise, he jumped up onto the roof of the mansion, and that might be why those cops couldn’t catch him, for he made his work clean, always came up with a plan, and had a well-stretched body.

Another jumped to the second roof above. Emerson took some cautious steps towards Rebecca’s room and finally reached the window, then got inside. It was quiet all around; the bedroom was empty, and the uncertain rustling of each purple curtain was heard when someone made some steps towards him.

When she passed by, Emerson hid himself behind the wall. He was thinking that he already had the opportunity to kill her, but it wasn’t the right time. He hid on the other side of the wall and watched her fix the curtains while humming a song.

Rebecca’s miniskirt swung with the wind of innocence-she didn’t know that her perfect body caught Emerson’s eyes. He was confused about what he felt right there as he thought about how sexy she was.

A lusty thought played in his mind, and he attempted to unzip his pants when Rebecca stared right at the spot where he was hiding. He was bewildered but remained steady as she slowly walked towards him.

“Miss Rebecca!” Someone called.

Rebecca halted and stared back. “Oh, Lucille, what are you doing here?”

“Your mother asked me to bring you some snacks,” Lucille replied.

“Okay, just put it there on the table.” She turned around and continued walking towards her destination, sighing with relief when she saw no one.

It was at that immediate moment, when Lucille called Rebecca, that Emerson found his way out of the situation: he jumped down to the other side of the mansion and hurriedly went back to the dormitory.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

“Where did you go?” Mario queried as he noticed the diffused sweat on Emerson’s face and the dirt on his clothes.

He knew it wasn’t Mario’s business anymore, and why would he ask if he even wanted him to go and wouldn’t want him to come back again? He indeed couldn’t get involved if he didn’t want him to think he didn’t have his own. Emerson just continued walking towards their room and fixed himself.

“Are you searching for something?” Lucille asked.

Rebecca turned and replied, “I felt so uncomfortable like someone was watching me here.” She said it seriously while looking directly into her eyes.

Lucille went towards her and also checked the spot. “Perhaps you’re just tired, because there’s no one else here except me. But don’t tell me that you’re uncomfortable because I’m here?” She furrowed her forehead.

“I’m serious! It’s not because of you.” Her voice sounded worried.

“Oh my gosh! You’re so cold!” Lucille exclaimed after she touched Rebecca’s forehead. “You can’t have a fever too.”

“But my head aches from your craziness,” Rebecca told her.

“Okay, I will go now, so that you can eat your snack and rest. Perhaps that’s just hunger.” Lucille got out of the room, while Rebecca sat down on the chair beside the table where Lucille put her snacks.

As she peered down through the ajar window, she saw Emerson cutting the tall plants. Rebecca observed that he did not appear to take a break. She looked back at her food, thinking about the question. “Who would watch me in my own bedroom?”