When The Night Falls: A Night as Dark as Sherry

As I sat down in the pristine waiting room, I felt a wave of anxiety.

I was inside one of England’s most prestigious estates, where the atmosphere was thick with ambition, fear, and competition. My application was just one of many.

But we were the finalists, ready and waiting for the opportunity to become personal bodyguards for the famous billionaire, Theodore Jefferson.

“Now or never, Sherry,” I whispered to myself, my Brazilian accent more pronounced than usual as I gripped the armrest of the leather chair.

The man sitting across the room seemed to hear me. He looked over, his brown eyes meeting mine as I nervously adjusted my dark skirt suit. His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to figure me out.

He was attractive, I noted with a small smile, holding a portfolio similar to mine. His short hair and sharp jawline made him more than just a pretty face. He was a potential competitor.

His look was serious but not unkind. It was filled with curiosity, maybe even recognition? Our eyes met and held for a moment longer than necessary. I found myself smiling, and he smiled back. A little friendly competition wouldn’t hurt.

He stood up, his tall frame coming into full view, a mix of muscle and quiet confidence. He walked across the room with a determined stride and sat down next to me.

“Hello,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Mick.”

I shook his hand, still feeling the strong energy he exuded. His grip was firm, confident. He seemed either very good at hiding his nerves or genuinely relaxed. Either way, it was interesting.

“Sherry,” I replied, glad that my voice didn’t waver.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sherry.” Mick’s voice was as warm as his eyes.

We started talking easily, as if we’d known each other for a while. He asked me about my training, my favorite places in Brazil. His words were a mix of genuine interest and flattery, which helped to calm my nerves. The conversation flowed naturally, and there was a clear spark of attraction between us.

But there was a line I was careful not to cross—my secret. Every question seemed to edge closer to it, putting me in a difficult position. I managed to avoid his questions with vague answers and half-smiles, but he was more perceptive than I’d thought.

“You seem guarded, Sherry,” Mick finally said, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at me. His brown eyes met mine, warm and understanding as he added, “We’re in this together, you know?”

His words, though kind, hit me hard. I had hoped Mick wouldn’t notice my evasiveness, wouldn’t see through my professional facade. But he did.

“I must have had too much coffee,” I blurted out, eager to escape his probing gaze. I gave Mick a quick glance as I stood up. “Excuse me.”

Mick looked surprised but nodded, letting me make my hasty exit to the restroom. The quiet room offered me a moment of respite, a mirror reflecting my flustered face.

I splashed some cold water on my cheeks, repeated a few calming affirmations, and composed myself before heading back to the waiting area.

But when I returned, the waiting room was empty. Mick, my newfound friend, was gone, his seat empty. My heart sank. Had I said something wrong?

Before I could figure out why Mick had left, the door to the waiting room opened, and a sharp voice cut through my thoughts.

“Sherry!” The woman who walked in carried an air of authority, her thin face set in a permanent frown. Iris, as she introduced herself during our rather cold handshake, seemed less than pleased to see me.

Without wasting any time, she ordered, “Follow me.”

I followed her out of the plush waiting room and down a long, carpeted hallway. This was it, the moment I had been waiting for. It was time for the interview that could change my life.

The office she led me into was as grand as the rest of the mansion.

As I sat down across from her, Iris got straight to the point. “Sherry wasn’t always your name, was it?” Her eyes held a mix of suspicion and curiosity, her raspy voice hinting at my secret.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. She already knew more about me than I was comfortable with. “It’s a...”

But she held up her hand, cutting me off. “We don’t need the story. We know.” There was a strange amusement in her voice, one that didn’t match her stern exterior. “Your past… it shows strength, resilience. We want that. You got the job.”

She said it so casually, so matter-of-factly that I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly at first. “Just like that?”

The barest smirk touched the corner of her mouth. “Just like that.”

With a breathless “Thank you, Iris,” still hanging in the air between us, I blinked back the tears welling up in my eyes. I had made it—this chapter, this new beginning, my first job since I decided to leave my past behind, was officially mine.

“Come along, Sherry,” Iris instructed, standing up. My body was still buzzing from the news, the butterflies in my stomach chaotic as the older woman led the way.

We left the office, stepping out onto the mansion’s expansive grounds. Lush green lawns stretched out before us, dotted with beautiful flower beds and elegant water features. The mansion’s grandeur was more than just its physical features; there was a sense of luxury woven into the very fabric of the estate.

Across the manicured landscape, a small building stood, its simple charm enhanced by the mansion’s extravagance. The guest house, Iris told me, would be my living quarters—mine and the other chosen bodyguard’s.

The key that Iris handed me felt heavy with responsibility, a reminder of the professional life I was just starting. But as I pushed open the weathered wooden door, I was met with the most surprising revelation yet.

“Mick?”

There he was, his muscular figure silhouetted against the afternoon light, a sense of familiarity in his presence that I hadn’t expected. A mix of surprise, relief, apprehension, and...happiness washed over me. The mystery of his disappearance from the waiting room was solved. He was the other chosen bodyguard. And, from the surprised smile on his face, it seemed he was as shocked as I was.