by Mia Taylor
Spencer groaned at her morbid joke but Quinn could read the pain in his eyes.
We’re a lot alike, Spencer and I. It’s a small wonder we ended up together. After all, we have no one else.
“Spence? I’m home!” she called as she rushed into the apartment and bounced into the living room. She didn’t have a lot of time before she had to catch the bus, but she knew she wanted to spend at least a few minutes with her friend before heading out to her night job.
He was not in his usual spot on the chair and Quinn felt a small flutter of panic in her heart.
“Spencer?”
She pushed open the door to his bedroom but he was not in the mess of clothes and books strewn about.
I’m going to have to clean up this house soon, she thought irrelevantly, her mind ignoring the terrible sense of foreboding that overcame her.
“Spence?”
She backed out of the bedroom and headed toward the bathroom. The door was shut and Quinn opened it slowly, already knowing what she was about to find.
Spencer lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving, his face ashy. He had been there for hours, it was clear.
Quinn went numb then, her heart ceasing to beat as she stared at his sickly face.
She had been around it enough times at work. She knew what she was seeing.
Her roommate, the man who had taken her away from her own loveless house and created a home for her, was lying dead on the bathroom floor.
A long, deep sob escaped her lips and Quinn fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Spence.”
But she knew she’d done everything she could with what she’d had. There was nothing else she could have tried to keep her friend alive.
Cradling his head in her hands, Quinn let the tears slip over his pale cheeks, the pain in her heart unlike anything she’d ever known before.
And in that moment, she wished she had died, too, when she’d had the chance.
Chapter Nine
Reverse Cinderella
He had the schedule down to a science.
Every day, he started at the morgue, dusting from top to bottom, wiping down every surface for fingerprints before sweeping, mopping, and buffing the floors.
It was backbreaking and meticulous work, especially because of the location, every print needing to be wiped, every surface disinfected.
Vivier had begun the job filled with resentment, anger, and denial. How could a prince become such a lowly drudge of society overnight? It was unheard of, disgusting, demeaning.
And yet, there he was, cleaning the hospital in an ugly, brown uniform.
What would Jacques say to see me now? He would laugh in my face, I’m sure. Mamm and Papp would be so proud.
After what had happened with Briana in San Diego, the prince had wallowed in self-pity for two days, binge-drinking himself into a coma and trying to block out the fact that he had been taken for a fool.
He had contemplated going to the police to report the theft, but he knew he would be subjected to many embarrassing questions and there was a chance that his true identity would be exposed. In his mind, he still wanted to prove who he was to the world.
It would not be the first time that Vivier had been in trouble, but this time he did not have Jacques or his mother to cover his tracks.
He was truly on his own, in a foreign country with no money.
Instead of going to the police, he swallowed the bitter pill he had been dealt and finally picked himself up, dejectedly dusting himself off.
I will not use my name in America. I am Marc Reich. That is who I have become. That is who I am now.
Of course, saying he was someone else and proving it were going to be very different animals.
He had not accounted for how difficult it would be to find a job with nothing but his silver tongue to guide him. Never before had he been tested in such a way.
After being laughed out of countless job interviews when he couldn’t produce any of the necessary paperwork, he started to aim lower.
Retail outlets, fast-food restaurants, gas stations even, but he encountered the same issue time and again.
There were some places willing to hire him, but the pay was not livable and the money Vivier had remaining from hocking the jewelry Briana had not taken was dwindling quickly.
Whereas once upon a time he would easily spend five hundred euros for supper on a date, he was now eating from taco stands and filling up water bottles from drinking fountains to save money.
There was no immediate end in sight.
He was at his wit’s end, ready to use his true identity, when he caught the advertisement at the hospital.
The posting read “Hospital Custodian” and Vivier had lost something in translation when he applied, not fully understanding what the job entailed.
He was granted an interview and he could tell the supervisor at El Cajon Family Health Center liked him.
For a moment, the experience in America had made him forget one very important thing: he was attractive to women.
“I won’t ask you for papers,” she told him kindly and Vivier could sense the longing she had for him. “It’s terrible what’s happening with immigrants in this country. Your secret is safe with me.”
She winked subtly and Vivier wondered what she expected in return for such a favor.
He eventually found out one afternoon when her husband was out of town. At least it started and ended there, the supervisor being replaced almost immediately after his arrival.
Vivier had heard rumors he was not the only one who had been subjected to her bartering.
For the first time since arriving in California, Vivier felt as if there was hope for what he was trying to do after all.
The supervisor, Clara, led him through the hospital on a tour which ended in the custodian room and it was there that Vivier realized what he had signed on for; he was going to be a janitor.
At first, he had been appalled, offended even, but he remembered how much the hospital was willing to pay. It was far more than any other place he had interviewed at, even if he had had the proper documentation.
He thought of how many interviews he had been to and he wondered if he would ever be afforded another opportunity to work for more than just pennies.
Begrudgingly, he started the job, doing the bare minimum and furious that he had sunk to such a disgusting level.
How can people live like this? he asked himself. And for what? A driveable car? A good cut of steak once a week? This is no life!
But he quickly learned that his good looks knew no borders and soon, the doctors and nurses were going out of their way to catch his attention.
For the first month, Vivier coasted through, rolling his cart through the halls, grinning at the beauties in the ER or ICU.
He was popular in plastics and dermatology.
Women lined up to talk to him outside the cleaning supply closet or in the belly of the clinic after hours.
They threw themselves at him and Vivier was happy to sate their appetites, but something peculiar happened after their trysts were done.
It was as if he didn’t exist to them.
He would see the doctors in the halls and they would avert their eyes. He would smile at the nurses and they would look right through him.
Vivier quickly realized that they were ashamed to be seen with the maintenance man and the understanding filled him with a feeling of intense anger.
Screw them, he thought, his dismay at being used like a piece of meat mounting. There are plenty of women who want me. I am the Prince of Luxembourg!
Of course, no one knew that or ever would. To his counterparts, he was just the guy who emptied their garbage cans.
At the end of that month, Clara finally pulled him aside and gave him a stern choice: shape up or ship out.
Like the others, she had her fun with the stunningly handsome foreigner, but business was business, afte
r all. She told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t do what was required, someone else would.
Vivier knew he was skating on thin ice and he vowed to ignore the women who still attempted to flirt and flatter him. Suddenly, he had no interest in the nurses who batted their lashes at him. He was only there to work. He no longer wanted anything to do with the women of the hospital.
Instead, he sincerely began to put in an effort as if pouring all his frustration into the sterile walls and sleek floors of the hospital.
And his work was noticed.
Instead of being called upon for sexual favors or reprimanded, his superiors were complimenting his hard work ethic.
You hear that, Papp? I can work as hard as anyone! Even as a lowly janitor. You didn’t think I could do it, but look at me.
But as he fell into the tediousness of his job, the work long and laborious, he became less Vivier Diederich and more of the persona he had created.
He had found a room to rent in the home of an elderly woman near the hospital and while she was kind and often fed him some inedible American cuisine, Vivier began to keep very much to himself.
He was building shields around him to keep anyone from coming in or learning who he truly was.
No longer did he want to go out and meet people or play video games. Reading became his new pastime, and where he once spent hours glued to his gaming console and on his lunchbreaks, now he would find himself in the back courtyard, sitting at a picnic table, re-reading a long-forgotten classic from his youth while eating.
It was as if he was doing anything he could to occupy his mind from answering the inevitable looming questions of “What next?” and “What am I doing?”
That afternoon, the sky had darkened considerably, the threat of rain imminent, but Vivier decided to sit outside anyway. If anything, it made for better reading conditions as there was no one in the area and he was only a few short feet from the door if a downpour began. In the meantime, he intended to relish the peace and quiet.
Vivier purposely took a seat as far from the entrance as possible.
It would spare him the awkwardness of catching someone’s eye or being forced into small talk. For the most part, people left him alone unless they needed something now, and Vivier wanted to keep it that way.
He returned to his place mark in The Iliad and found himself swept back into ancient Greece, which suddenly felt much closer to home than where he sat at that moment.
Vivier could not say specifically what caused him to look up, but as he did, a fat raindrop landed directly in his jade eye.
“Feck!” he muttered to himself in his native tongue, peering into the cloud-filled sky.
“Pardon?”
He jerked his head to the table behind him and started slightly as he saw a familiar face. He hadn’t realized that anyone else was around until that second.
“Oh,” he mumbled. “I did not see you there.”
It was the woman whom he had saved from choking in the cafeteria and he knew that was the first time he’d seen her since the incident.
Vivier would have been lying if he said he had not sought her out after their encounter.
He could not explain why, but he had felt an instant connection with the blonde, one which had plagued his thoughts often after. Not once since the episode almost a month earlier had Vivier seen her again and he had eventually decided that she had just been a visiting nurse.
Or avoiding him.
Yet there she was again, staring at him with solemn grey eyes, a wistfulness in her face that almost broke his heart.
As he looked at her more closely, he could see there was a deep sadness in the depths of her irises, something that had not been there before.
How can you possibly know that? he chided himself. You saw her for three minutes, two of which you were administering a medical procedure on her.
But he could not stop himself from staring at her or voicing the question ready to spring from his lips.
“Are you all right?” he asked, adjusting his body on the bench so that he faced her better. Another lone droplet of rain landed between his straddled thighs and Vivier knew it was seconds away from pouring down on their heads, but it didn’t seem important now.
She seemed taken aback by the question, her eyes darkening to match the storm clouds above.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she demanded, her tone cutting. To his surprise, Vivier was not deterred by her rude answer.
This woman is in pain. I can see it all over her face.
“I am Marc,” he told her, extending a hand. “I think we have met before, yes?”
She lowered her gaze and nodded quickly.
Well, at least she remembers me, he thought dryly.
She accepted his palm. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m Quinn Sommer.”
They shook quickly, Quinn seeming to be in a rush to retrieve her hand as if he burned her.
“You are a nurse here?” Vivier asked, not willing to let go of the conversation yet. The slender blonde shook her head, her eyes shifting away as if his gaze were making her uncomfortable.
“Nurse’s aide.”
He nodded and the sky finally finished holding back.
The drops pelted at them relentlessly, the clouds finished with their warning shots.
Vivier grabbed his book and sandwich, turning to Quinn, who was struggling with her bag and lunch.
He swooped in and grabbed the bag, hurrying toward the entrance with the girl in pursuit.
Inside, the shook themselves off lightly, ignoring the stares of patients and staff as they dripped over the clean tile.
What are they looking at? I’m just going to clean it again in an hour.
“Thanks,” Quinn said, reaching for her bag. She glanced at her sandwich and her mouth became a fine line as she saw it was a sodden mess.
Vivier found his in the same shape.
“Not that I think it will taste much worse this way,” Quinn muttered, dropping the soggy bread into a nearby wastebasket. Vivier chuckled and nodded in agreement even though he caught the sorrowful note of her voice.
She turned to leave but Vivier called out to her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Well, I suppose it is a blessing that there is a bistro around the corner. May I buy you lunch?” he asked. Slowly, she turned around to stare at him, her mouth gaping open.
“Buy me—you don’t even know me!” she protested and Vivier could see that despite her instinct to say no, she wanted to accept his offer.
“I saved your life once,” he jokingly reminded her. “You can’t really refuse me this request.”
She bit on her lower lip and looked around as if weighing her decision.
“Wouldn’t that make it my responsibility to buy you lunch?” she asked and blushed.
“Where I come from, saving someone’s life means you have to take care of them forever.”
Quinn’s head jerked up and she eyed him, startled by the answer. Vivier grinned and she laughed shortly, realizing he was joking.
“So? Lunch? I don’t know about you but I’m very hungry.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Thanks.”
He nodded and offered his arm cordially.
She eyed him again as if he were from another planet, but took it and together they headed toward the street entrance.
“Have you worked here a long while?” he asked her pleasantly as they made their way under the overhang around the hospital.
“Three years,” she replied quietly as if the answer pained her to admit.
“Do you like your job?”
“Some days.”
Vivier paused to study her attractive face for a long moment.
“Is it hard to be around so much death and sickness?” he asked softly, sensing that she was melancholic but not understanding why.
To his shock, she burst into tears.
She buried her face in her hands and began to sob, her body fully shaking as she unleashed a flood of e
motion.
Slowly, Vivier drew her into his arms, saying nothing but stroking her hair as she cried.
I know how you feel, liebling, he thought grimly. I have wanted to break down and cry for months too.
He remained silent as she eventually began to calm. She pulled herself back, staring up at him with red-rimmed, mortified eyes.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what just happened there. I never do things like that.”
“I have that affect on a lot of women,” he teased. “Please don’t apologize. I can see in your face you have been carrying a great burden along with you.”
Quinn cocked her head to the side, wiping away her tears.
“You can see that?” she murmured and Vivier nodded.
“The eyes never lie. Something tells me that yours are particularly expressive.”
Suddenly, a slight buzzing could be heard above the rain and Quinn cringed as she reached into her scrubs for the pager.
“Dammit! I have to go,” she breathed, reading the page. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded understandingly.
“It is the life of a medical professional,” he told her. “I hope I will see you again, Quinn.”
“Do you have a cell phone on you?” she asked, unmoving. He nodded and dug it out of his own pocket, handing it to her.
She added her phone number to his contact list and handed it back to him.
“If this isn’t too forward, I’d like to have you over for dinner on Saturday night.”
Vivier’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected that.
Instantly, Quinn’s face turned pale.
“I don’t mean it like—I just wanted to make you something as a thank you for all you’ve done in the less than twenty minutes I’ve known you. Please don’t take it the wrong way,” she rushed on. “Or just forget I said anything and—”
“No, it is too late. I can’t forget. It is a date, Quinn Sommer. I will call you soon.”
Their gazes locked and Quinn slowly turned to leave, seeming hesitant to go.
On a whim, she leaned forward and hugged him tightly.
“Thank you, Marc,” she whispered and Vivier felt his stomach drop slightly. He forced a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.
