by Zavi James
I stormed over to her, invading her personal space by pressing my forehead against hers. Mia sank back against the chair, tipping onto the back legs, trying to get some space. My hands slammed down on the arms to stabilize the chair and trap her against me.
“You’re going to disrespect me in my own house?” I asked her through gritted teeth. I’d had enough of dealing with difficult people today and I didn’t expect to come home and continue to solve issues. “You! You chose to be here to save your pathetic father.”
The fear in her seemed to be replaced by something else. The steely look from earlier in the afternoon returned to her eyes before she yelled back at me, “You gave me no choice!”
“You had a clear choice.”
“Choose freedom and my Dad dies? What a decision,” she said, the sarcasm dripping off each of the words.
“Come down to dinner,” I ordered her, no longer indulging the conversation about Hector and the reckless decisions he’d made that had gotten us into this situation.
“Did you not get the message?” Mia asked, pushing her forehead against mine with a sudden flush of courage. “Go fuck yourself.”
I saw red. Without another thought, I grabbed her wrist and pulled so that Mia was yanked up from the chair.
“Get off me!”
I started to pull her towards the door, but she resisted, digging her heels into the plush, cream carpet that lined the floor of the bedroom.
“I’m not having dinner with you,” she yelled at me, pulling against my hold.
“Fine!” I let go of her wrist and she landed flat on her ass, wincing as she hit the ground. I stood over her and she drew her knees up to her chest. “Fine! You don’t want to eat? Don’t eat! I’m done trying to be nice to you.”
Turning on my heel, I left the room and slammed the door shut behind me. My voice carried through the house as I shouted, “Lydia! Toss the dinner! Looks like no one has an appetite anymore.”
Chapter Four
Mia
The moment Lucas had left, closing the door behind him earlier in the afternoon, I sank to the floor and cried.
How had my life come to this? How had I ended up in Lucas Foster’s home in order to make sure that my Dad kept his life? I had no idea how long I’d be here or what I was going to do while I was here, but the scenarios that filled my head flooded me with fear. Lucas needed to stay good to his word. I needed to believe I’d be back with my father before long.
As the day disappeared, darkness crept in, in the form of shadows that swallowed the stunning white decor and my stomach growled and gave an uncomfortable clench. The house had been still for a while now, not a footstep or a voice. After Lucas’s initial rage, there had been hours of silence and I debated whether it was safe enough to leave the room. Deciding to risk it, I found myself tiptoeing around the house until I stumbled upon the kitchen.
“Hungry, love?”
I jumped out of my skin and turned to see the woman who came to my room earlier.
“I just…” My heart still hammered in my chest, thinking that I was about to walk into yet another fight. I scanned the room quickly in case Lucas was there, but it was empty apart from the woman.
“It’s okay,” she said, putting down the dishcloth in her hands. “I kept you a plate. Take a seat and I’ll fetch it for you.”
She turned away from me and moved to the stove, and I hesitated before taking a seat at the table. Chewing on my bottom lip, a nervous habit I’d had since I was a child, I said, “Thank you. I’m really sorry about earlier.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” she brushed me off. “Luc has always struggled to get a handle on that temper of his. Takes after Charlie in that sense.”
The older woman bustled over to the table and put a steaming bowl of stew down in front of me. The smell was enough to make me salivate and I picked up the spoon without hesitation.
“I’m Lydia,” she introduced herself. “Luc’s housekeeper.”
“Mia,” I told her my name as I dipped the spoon into the bowl and let the liquid warm my insides. The heat of the stew burned my tongue, but I was too hungry to care. “This is really good,” I told her as way of appreciation once I’d swallowed the bite.
She offered me a smile. “I’m sorry you’re here under these circumstances.”
I swallowed another bite and then looked up at her. “I don’t understand the point of me being here. What am I meant to do?”
“Luc is,” Lydia searched for a word. “Impulsive. He acts before he thinks. By the sounds of it, someone took what was valuable to him, so he took something of value to them. I doubt he thought much past that.”
I was surprised at how honest her answer was instead of skirting around the question like I assumed she would.
“Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” I asked her tentatively, wondering if I was pushing my luck.
“Do you know the business that Lucas runs?” Lydia asked me in return.
“Sort of.”
She gave me a look that said I should know better. “Luc has a temper and he can be quite abrasive, but he’s a kind soul.”
I almost choked on the spoonful of stew. “Kind soul?” I repeated the words when I recovered. Lucas hadn’t shown himself to be kind in any capacity of the word. He’d allowed Dad to get into debt, threatened his life and then used me as leverage to ensure he received his money. A quick glance down at my wrist where a bruise had started to blossom confirmed my belief that Lydia was wrong. Kind soul? A kind soul wouldn’t possess a temper like he had.
“Did he do that to you?” Lydia asked, eyes wide as she noticed the mark on my skin.
I pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt down to cover it and decided not to answer. Lydia was a friendly face, but I couldn’t trust myself to keep my words polite and I didn’t want to starve here. I needed to try and have at least one person in this household on my side. Instead, I finished the bowl of stew and got up to take it to the sink, but she stopped me.
“I’ll do that, dear. You need to get to bed and get some sleep.”
“Thank you, Lydia.”
“Mia, love,” she called after me as I reached the kitchen door.
“Yes?”
“Come down to breakfast tomorrow morning,” Lydia told me. “I know you may not want to, but you can’t avoid him while you’re living here.”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Just think about it.”
With a small nod, I replied, “I’ll think about it.”
∞∞∞
It took a few moments when I woke up in the morning to remember where I was. As the realization hit, I stuffed my face back into the pillow and inhaled the scent of fabric softener while contemplating if I could just spend the entire day in bed. Could I last the entire length of my sentence confined to this room in self-isolation? I’d need to leave eventually, and Lydia was right, I couldn’t avoid Lucas and needed to face him at some point, so why not at breakfast?
I was afforded a little bit of privacy thanks to the ensuite adjacent to my room. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much this house cost. I was easily surrounded by more money in this room than I had made in my short life and was likely to ever make.
The kitchen was not so difficult to find in sunlight that streamed through all the windows, but as I reached it I could hear raised voices and hung back.
“That’s no way to treat her, Lucas,” Lydia said angrily.
“She wouldn’t listen to me!”
“So, you thought you’d make her?”
There was a pang of guilt in my chest. Whatever had happened between me and Luc was between us. I hadn’t intended for Lydia to see the bruise and pick a fight with him. I was more concerned for Lydia and what Lucas might do to her rather than his feelings.
Cautiously, I took a step into the room. “Morning, Lydia,” I greeted her and after a moment I add, “Lucas.”
“Mia, love,” Lydia smiled, all traces of anger had left her voice
. “How did you sleep?”
“Well, thank you. Yourself?”
Lucas moved away from Lydia, brushed past me and sat down at the table looking unimpressed. His black shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, displaying the tattoos again, and he stared down at his phone in his hands.
“Restful,” Lydia answered me. “Pancakes okay for you?”
“Sure. Let me help,” I said, wanting to find a way to keep myself busy. The initial nerves I had felt at the thought of being in the same room as Lucas after last night had dissipated but that didn’t mean I wanted to spend any more time with him than necessary.
“No, no! You go and take a seat at the table.”
I took a deep breath and turned around before walking over to the table, looking anywhere but at Lucas. Every fiber of my being would like to have sat at the other end of the table, putting as much physical distance between us as possible, but that would just continue to make things awkward. Instead, I pulled out the chair across from him and silently took a seat.
“Decided to join us this morning?” he asked sharply, unable to feign being polite.
How could Lydia think this man was kind? Lucas was cold and harsh in everything he did. There was a persistent tension that rolled off him in waves and filled the room until I felt like I was suffocating.
“At Lydia’s request,” I clarified, wanting him to know that it had nothing to do with his demands last night.
Lydia came over and set down three plates at the table, and I felt a surge of relief at the thought that she would be joining us for breakfast.
“Alright, boss? Lyds!” A cheerful voice boomed through the room. My head snapped to the doorway to see a man striding over to Lydia and pulling her into a hug. He kissed the top of her head before releasing her from his grasp. By the way he was dressed, I assumed he worked for Lucas, but he carried himself differently. Less rigid and more relaxed.
“I have a plate all set up for you, Dante,” Lydia told him.
Lucas rose from his seat to hug the fair-haired friend. When they let go of each other the new arrival looked directly at me.
“Who’s this?” he asked Luc, jerking his head in my direction.
I may not have grown up with my mother, but Dad had taught me some manners. From my seat, I extended a hand to him. “I’m Mia Griffin.”
“Dante Atwood. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Griffin,” Dante said, taking my hand. Instead of shaking it, he kissed the back and I felt myself blush. Dante turned his head to Lucas and continued, “Not your usual type, Luc, but she is beautiful.”
The annoyance was evident in Lucas’s voice as he said, “It’s business.”
“Ah,” Dante said, finally letting go of my hand. “Well, that’s a shame.” He gave me a wink before taking the seat opposite me. “No syrup today?”
“I’ll grab it,” I volunteered in a bid to get away from the table and give my face a chance to cool down. I hadn’t anticipated Luc having such friendly people in his life.
Chapter Five
Lucas
I watched Mia as she got up from the table. I wasn’t in the best mood last night and it hadn’t improved this morning. Lydia had scolded me for losing my temper at her, Mia was still being a stubborn pain in the ass, and now Dante had joined us for breakfast. He may be one of the only people outside of blood I considered family, and my right hand, but sometimes I wondered if I should have chosen a person who possessed a filter between his brain and his mouth.
“It’s in the cupboard above the coffee machine,” I told her gruffly as she stood frozen by the counter. Lydia had left to start the rest of her jobs and Mia didn’t know a thing about this place yet.
I caught Dante watching her intently and I narrowed my eyes. “Pack it in.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “You said she’s business, but I’d like to know her on a more personal level.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Dante burned through women quicker than I did. I threw a quick glance over to Mia who was struggling to reach the syrup on the shelf with her tiny frame, and couldn’t deny the fact that Dante had voiced the thought I’d had when I’d first seen her. Mia was quite the beauty, if only she would keep her mouth shut.
Dante picked himself up from his seat and joined her by the cupboards. “Let me help you there, sweetheart.”
Pressing up behind her, a hand resting on her hip, he pulled the bottle from the shelf. My jaw clenched, watching them so close to each other. She squeezed past Dante, walked back to the table and placed the bottle down. As she did, I caught sight of the fingerprint bruises around her wrist and felt the guilt creep through me. I had never intended to hurt her, just make a point, but then Mia opened her mouth and I couldn’t control my anger.
“Too much sugar cannot be good for your body,” Mia said, taking her seat as she watched Dante slather his pancakes in the sticky sauce. It was hard to believe that he was 25 and not 15 at times. Dante had barely changed in the fifteen years we had known each other.
He set the bottle down and shrugged as Mia picked up the coffee mug in front of her and drank deeply. I was surprised to see that she didn’t dull the taste with sugar or creamer, but took it black.
“This body’s all good, sweetheart,” Dante told her. “I’ll let you check it yourself if you’re that concerned.”
Mia almost spat out her sip and I slammed my mug down on the table, irritated by Dante’s blatant attempts to flirt, causing them both to jump.
“We need to go,” I said shortly.
“I haven’t even…” Dante gestured at his stack of glistening pancakes.
“Now!” I pushed my chair back and got up from the table. Mia cast a curious look in my direction, and I realized my reaction probably seemed bizarre. “Mia, when I get back, we need to talk.”
She nodded her head, apparently not willing to verbalize her answer.
I turned my attention to Dante, who was still sitting in his seat. “What are you waiting for?”
Dante sighed before getting up and gave one last longing look at his plate. “See you soon, Mia,” he said with a wink and I could hear him following me out of the kitchen.
Once we got outside the house, I grabbed a hold of Dante’s arm and twisted it behind his back, slamming him front-first against the side of the car.
“What the fuck?” Dante asked, struggling against the hold.
“What are you playing at?” I asked, pulling tighter on his arm as he struggled. One wrong move would cause it to break and he knew as much.
“You told me she was business,” he reiterated my earlier words.
“She’s my business, Dante.” I hadn’t realized until I’d seen Dante advance on her in the kitchen, but I apparently possessed a small possessive streak over her. Mia was my responsibility while she was under my roof. I didn’t encourage mixing business and pleasure, but if that happened to be the case here then I should have the first attempt.
When Dante didn't answer, I twisted his arm and he hissed, “Alright!” I let go of his arm and he pulled it around to the front and rubbed it. “You could have just said.”
“While you attempted to grind up on her in my kitchen?”
“I was trying to be helpful.”
I had the strong desire to slap the smirk from his face but pushed down on the feeling. Dante never knew when to stop pushing his luck. “She doesn’t need your help. Try helping her again and I’m going to break your arm. I don’t expect to have to tell you twice.”
His face dropped. I was not a man who was known to make empty threats.
“You got it, boss.”
∞∞∞
“Mia?” I called her name as I walked through the house after work.
Lydia looked up from the dishes she’d been doing. “She’s out in the gardens.”
“Thanks, Lyds.”
After a rocky start to the day, the rest of it had remained uneventful. I’d met with a few of my suppliers to discuss the specifics regarding a new shipment
of product and Dante had made himself useful by keeping out of my way. All in all, it had been business as usual. I appreciated the fact that my work could often lead to trouble, but I appreciated more the power it had afforded me.
Considering how smoothly the day had gone, it had given me some time to reflect on my argument with Mia last night. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me. She was a safety net meant to teach Hector a lesson because I could strike a compromise when I needed to. There was no need to end a man’s life if he could be persuaded to pay me back in a timely fashion, with added interest.
The sliver of guilt that sat in my chest made me stop at a florist before heading home. After a few moments of being completely overwhelmed by the range of different flowers, I instructed the woman behind the counter to arrange the most impressive bouquet she could manage, and paid before leaving.
Lydia eyed the flowers in my arms, a mixture of deep pink roses, pastel pink peonies and bright white lilies that had already stained the arm of my shirt with pollen. The stark orange stood out against the black in messy patches around my bicep. She quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Are those for her?”
“It’s an apology, Lydia,” I answered quickly, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding. “Stop seeing things that aren’t there.”
I marched out the doors that led outside before Lydia had the chance to ask me anything else. The house had a large stretch of grounds behind it, yet another requirement for my Dad that allowed space for me while I grew up, as well as a place to host get-togethers in the summer. I spotted Mia sitting at the far end on a sofa in front of the fire pit that wasn’t burning. She flipped through a book, so engrossed in the story that she didn’t notice me until I stopped in front of her, casting my shadow across her pages.
