Oliver's POV
Spiralisâthat's the word that comes to mind, reminding me of a '90s model I was obsessed with in my teenage years. Thanks to her, I'm a sucker for girls with curly hair.
Her amber eyes lock onto mine. I shake my head, hoping the strange sensation is all in my head.
"I can't risk contamination of the scene," she repeats.
Who is this girl, and why does she think she has the authority to keep me out of my hotel?
She is undeniably beautiful, and her gaze renders me speechless.
"Jessie!" Helen saves me, saying her name and just like her beauty, it sticks in my head uninvited. "Forgive her, She is a very reliable girl. It must be what she witnessed that is making her this crazy."
For Helen to defend her, she must be a very efficient worker.
I'm relieved when the police arrive, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts.
"We received a call..." The team leader says as Helen explains.
Some officers walk to the scene, and Jessie lets them inâunlike me.
"Did you secure the room?" an officer asks.
She nods with a grin.
"That was a smart move," he says.
Pride lights up her face. "It's not my first time..." She cuts off, glancing nervously at me.
"You can wait outside," the officer tells her.
She tags on her dress, lifting it up and starts to walk towards us. It is long...too long. I am surprised by it. Every housekeeper I meet wears their uniform short until I thought they only came in one size.
She has a unique scent, a blend of coconut and detergent. Her presence awakens my nerves, and I instinctively take a step back.
*****
"Looks like a suicide," the police officer says, catching my attention.
"That's it?" Jessie questions, frustration evident.
The cop nods. "Suicide."
She shakes her head, disbelief in her eyes. "No, I've analyzed all the physical evidence. I doubt that's the case."
The cop narrows his eyes at her. "What? You suddenly know police procedure?" he retorts, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
I can see she's offended.
"I know what I saw. I..." She cuts herself off, then continues, "I watch a lot of investigative shows, always follow the evidence. Look..." She tries to show him her phone, but he dismisses it.
"This isn't TV, it's real life," he snaps.
"I know what I saw," she insists.
"Let the police do their job," I say, my irritation growing. She's pesky, I conclude as Helen steps in.
"Jessie let it go," Helen warns her.
"Helen..." Jessie starts but then stops talking, finally looking around and making a wise decision. "Fine," she huffs.
"You've experienced distress at work, so I'm giving you a week off. HR will call you as we sort this out," I inform her, but her attention remains on the police.
She taps her legs and nibbles on her fingers, utterly engrossed in the crime sceneâor maybe the body itself. Her peculiarity intrigues me.
"Go home, Jessie." Helen says to her.
She still looks at the scene before us, her eyes moving with the body as it is carried out of the room.
I reach into my pocket and retrieve my card, extending it to her. "Call me once you're back, in no less than a week," I state.
She grabs it and rushes after the crime scene workers that are transporting the body. She is weird and interesting I will say that.
"Let's go to my office." I say to Helen as the police also follow us.
Jessie pov
I arrive at our house, and as soon as I step in, I call out Grey's name. He responds, and I follow his voice into our bedroom.
"You are..."
"You won't... We both start to talk in unison.
He stops and gestures for me to go first. "You won't believe what just happened today at work," I say.
"The chef burnt some poor rich woman's food, and now he's fired," he says disinterestedly.
"No. It's something serious," I say, my tone matching my words.
He looks up from his phone. "Did you get fired? Is that why you're home early? We can't afford that," he says.
I ignore his comment, eager to share what happened at work.
"Somebody was murdered in the room I was assigned to," I say, stepping closer to him.
He turns to look at me, "Murdered?" he asks, surprised.
"Yup!" I nod. "In the papers, they will say it was suicide, but I know for sure it was murder." I feel the pitch of my voice getting higher; it only happens when I'm excited.
Grey throws his phone on the bed, shaking his head vigorously. "Oh no!... No... we're not going through this again. This is the Dean's case all over again," he says with frustration.
"I..." I start to speak, but he raises his voice above mine.
"No, I'm not going to listen. You promised, and that's the end of it," he says, bending to pick up his phone.
I notice his attire.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"I was planning to go out with some co-workers for a pre-celebration," he states, his focus back on his phone.
"Pre-celebration?" I ask, curious.
He purses his lips. "It's nothing major," he brushes it off with a shrug.
"I'd like to come," I say.
"It's just finance guys talking about money markets, interest rates. I'm sure after such a night, you'd rather rest," he says.
"No. I need a distraction," I say. He knows it's best for me not to be alone after something like this.
"Chase will be there. Promise no political debates?"
I roll my eyes. "You're asking too much," I pout.
"Jessie!" he warns.
I pretend to zip my mouth shut.
"Wear the black dress," he says, and his eyes remain fixed on my hair. "Can you straighten your hair too?" He makes it sound like a request, but it's an order.
"I like it this way," I say, my fingers coiling around my curls.
"It looks un..." He sighs and stops to rethink his reply, "It's a special day for me. Can you just do it for me?" he says as he steps out of the room.
I walk to my closet, open it to find Grey's favorite dress. I haven't worn in a while. I lay it on the bed and step in for a quick shower.
After i am done, i try the dress. It doesn't fit.
Panicking, I call Grey, staring at my body. He walks in, seemingly annoyed. "Why are you taking long?" He complains.
"It doesn't fit," I say.
"We can find another one, easy." He casually states.
He pulls out another dress and tosses it to me. I put it on; it fits perfectly.
He so good at picking at my clothes and trust his fashion advice.
He looks at his Rolex. He loves his things flashy. Sometimes i think it is compensation to how he grew up.
I see my head in the mirror. "No time for my hair," I groan.
He sighs, "Sit before i change my mind," he says, picking up my flat iron. I smile at him in the mirror.
He catches my gaze and feigns seriousness. Why can't we be like this always?
"Don't fry my hair like last time," I warn with a smile.
I had to wear wigs for a month when he burned my hair.
"It's been years," he reminds me.
As he gently combs my hair, I relax, forgetting about the dead body and my insecurities. Moments like this, he makes me feel like his whole world.
Follow me at inkitt: @ivybrownie  Chapter 23 has uploaded at Inkitt.