The Vessel

by Jenika Snow

  I avoided him the rest of my shift, which hadn’t been too hard since his house was so massive, but still, I expected him to be around every corner I took, that sexy-as-sin smirk on his face.

  “Girl, what is on your mind?”

  I turned to glance at my aunt. She lifted a brow, but there was a knowing smile on her face, which in turn had my cheeks heating.

  I quickly looked away, cutting into the carrot cake I made last night to bring with me when I visited my aunt and mother today. I cleared my throat and said, “What? I’m fine. I’m good.” There, I was doing it again, rambling because of my nerves.

  I could feel my aunt looking at me, the weight of her stare heavy. And I knew if I showed my thoughts were thick with something that was clearly important, something that was taking my attention off my surroundings, she’d press me.

  And then I’d end up caving and telling them everything. Not like there was much to tell, but I really didn’t want my mother and aunt to know about my attraction to my boss, or the fact that I’d just seen him in all his male, naked glory.

  So I looked at her and gave a small smile, feeling like it was forced, but knowing enough that I played it off so it appeared genuine. I hoped, at least.

  I held up the platter of cake and gestured with a tilt of my chin toward the cupboard. “Can you grab a few plates and some forks, and I’ll meet you out on the patio?”

  Auntie Frannie’s stare was still heavy, but she gave me a smile in return and got the utensils.

  I made my way outside, my mother already sitting on the patio, her eyes closed and her head tilted back as she let the sun warm her face. She was in her wheelchair, with a blanket thrown over her legs. Although my mother was a paraplegic, she didn’t let that stop her. She wanted to be as independent as possible, but she was also very weak, the medication she was on sucking the literal life right out of her. And I hated seeing her like that, but I loved seeing her like this, a small smile playing across her lips as she just enjoyed being alive.

  She didn’t let things get her down, not her situation or her problems. She took every day as it was, was grateful for everything, and she was my hero.

  I set the cake on the table and pulled the chair out, sitting down next to my mom. She opened her eyes and gave me a warm smile before looking at the cake and making a pleasurable humming sound. “My favorite, and you make the best.”

  I smiled in return, giving her a nod. “I know how much you like it.” Carrot cake was my mother’s all-time favorite. Although I wasn’t a baker by any means, I knew I made a pretty damn good one. So anytime I came over, I made sure to bake one, because I loved seeing how happy it made her.

  My aunt came out a few moments later, the plates and silverware in her hand. She set those on the table and darted back inside. She came back out with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses.

  For the next twenty minutes, we ate the cake and did small-talk, my mom talking about this romance show she was watching on one of those subscription channels online, and my aunt talking about the dreamy look Mom got when she saw the main guy. I loved seeing them like this, sisterly banter that had my heart warming. I didn’t know what I’d do without them in my life.

  I continued listening to them as I stared out at the small backyard, if it could even be called that. My aunt’s yard was nothing but a small square, with a strip of grass in one tiny corner, really just enough for a dog to do their business on. The rest was white pebbles, the occasional weed popping out through them.

  I asked the landlord if we’d be able to build a bigger garden in the beginning, but he was an asshole, so I helped my aunt build a small raised bed, one that was only big enough to hold a handful of things. But it still made my mom happy, so I didn’t press the subject with the landlord about extending it. I didn’t want to make things worse for them, and he was a Grade-A prick.

  “How’s work?” Mom asked after she polished off the cake.

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin and shrugged. “Good.” I nodded, although I didn’t know why I did. I felt my aunt and mother staring at me and knew they saw right through my sudden awkwardness. “I really enjoy working for Mr. Blacksmith. H-he’s great. And he offers unlimited overtime, so it’s been really helping me save. Yeah, I really enjoy working there, for him.” I internally groaned after I spoke, because I was just going on and on.

  And as I looked between my mother and aunt... there it was, their knowing expressions. They hadn’t asked about Lucius, but I rambled on about him as if he was the reason my work was going well.

  I shifted in the hard patio chair and cleared my throat, knowing I was about to be bombarded with questions. They were like hawks, seeing what was there no matter how small it was. Then they swooped down and grabbed onto it.

  “This is the first time you’ve said anything about your employer,” my mother started.

  “That must mean something,” Auntie Frannie supplied, emphasizing that last word. She turned an excited, wide-eyed look toward Mom, and I refrained from rolling my eyes.

  Here we go.

  “Oh my God, you think so, Frannie?” Mom was animated now.

  I exhaled and covered my face with a hand, shaking my head, because I knew this was me falling down a rabbit hole.

  “Oh my God, Beanie, I think our little Elise has a boyfriend.”

  Oh. God.

  “Mom, Auntie Frannie, not only do I not have a boyfriend, but if I did, it definitely wouldn’t be my employer.” My face was on fire as I stared at them.

  They didn’t look convinced.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I drilled home.

  “No boyfriend?” My mother leaned forward. “I don’t know, Frannie. Did you see the way Elise talked about the billionaire?”

  I didn’t hold in my groan.

  “What a catch,” my aunt said softly, this dreamy look in her eyes as she gazed off into the yard.

  “Okay, I think we are done with this topic.”

  Although my aunt and mother wanted to press, and I could clearly see that on their faces, they didn’t say anything more about it, just wore these knowing smiles. I was embarrassed, feeling like I was a specimen under a microscope. What humiliated me the most was the fact that I’d been the one to offer all this up when there wasn’t even anything there between Lucius and me.

  Literally nothing but a few stolen glances, some awkward interactions, and a longing in me that would lead to a dead end.

  They would let this go for now, but I knew this wasn’t the last time I’d be pressed by them, because it was clear I was lying, and they could see that.

  I cleared my throat and picked up my glass of lemonade, taking a long drink as I looked around the tiny-ass yard. I set my glass down and shifted once more.

  “I love the garden. I bet the flowers attract the butterflies.” I was doing anything to keep the topic off me and Lucius. “The marigolds are new.”

  If I didn’t move this conversation along, I’d end up saying something I regretted.

  Like how I’d seen Lucius naked.

  Or how he watched me like he was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy his appetite.

  Or that I wanted him in the most unprofessional, sexually explicit way.

  My aunt looked at the little flower bed in question, and I saw her lips purse.

  “What?” I asked.

  She looked at my mother, who wore an equally annoyed expression.

  “Landlord Asshole says we have to take the raised bed down.”

  My hackles rose. “What? Why?” I instantly grew pissed.

  “Said it can deteriorate the concrete pad of the patio.”

  I scoffed. Oh for fuck’s sake. “I’ll talk to him.”

  My mother was shaking her head before I even finished. “No, Elise. Don’t worry about it. He’s not going to budge. Frannie already tried, telling him that it wouldn’t ruin anything, and if it did, we’d pay to get it repaired.”

  My aunt grumbled something under her
breath.

  “But he’s a stubborn old bastard, a real gem.”

  “Yeah, listen to your mother.” Although my aunt was agreeing with my mom, I could hear in her voice she was also pissed. I’d gotten my stubborn, fiery streak from my aunt; that was for sure.

  “I’m not going to let him stronghold you on something that shouldn’t be an issue.” I looked between the two of them and shook my head. “That garden is something you guys love doing. Getting rid of it doesn’t solve anything but stroke his need to be in control.” I scoffed again. “He’s such an asshole.” I couldn’t wait until I had enough to be able to get them out of this place.

  My aunt crossed her arms over her chest, looking equal parts proud and pleased at the same time.

  “Honey,” mother said softly. “Seriously, just let it go. We have the potted flowers. We don’t need the raised bed.” I didn’t say anything after that, because I didn’t want to upset my mom. But I wasn’t about to let this go. I’d talk to him, make him see reason. Surely, he couldn’t be that much of a prick that he took a small raised garden away from two older women.

  I might not be very outspoken, but when it came to making sure Mom and Auntie Frannie were happy, I’d do anything to get my point across.

  10

  Lucius

  She’d hauled ass out of my room so fast I hadn’t been able to help but smirk. I embarrassed her, but more so, I turned her on. I’d seen that proof written across her face, in the way her body language changed.

  Even from the distance that separated us, I’d seen her pupils dilate, watched as her pulse beat hard and fast at the base of her throat. She shifted on her feet, her mouth parted, that Cupid’s bow mouth of hers pink and… kissable.

  God, she was gorgeous, so fucking attractive I knew I’d never seen—never would see again in my life—a more beautiful female.

  That had been two days ago, and since then, I hadn’t seen her. I felt like I was in withdrawal not being able to see her, but maybe it was for the best.

  So I’d thrown myself into work, staying longer at the office, knowing by the time I came home she’d be gone. But the truth was, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Ever since our interaction in the kitchen, followed by the clearly awkward exchange—for her at least—in my bedroom, she’d been like this broken record in my mind playing over and over again.

  It wasn’t just sexual desire I felt and thought about regarding Elise, but so many other things... deeper things. I wanted to see if her hair would be soft between my fingers. It looked like spun silk, like liquid onyx. I wanted to run my nose up the side of her neck and inhale deeply at the spot right below her ear, seeing if she put a little dab of perfume there, wanting to take that scent into my lungs. I wanted to take her hand in mine and see how much smaller it was, how smooth her skin was.

  Fuck, I just wanted her.

  I focused on the present and glanced up at Michael. He sat in the leather chair across from me in the boardroom at my office, the smooth, glossy mahogany table stretched out before us and seeming like miles separated us. Or maybe it was my thoughts doing that? Maybe I was so consumed with thoughts of Elise and how my growing attraction to her was bordering on consuming that everything else seemed like a distant memory.

  Long minutes passed as Michael went through each page of the will, my father’s last demand, his unrealistic decree.

  I stared out the window at the skyscrapers, trying in vain to focus on what was important, and that was making sure I kept my company and that my father didn’t try to stronghold me from the grave.

  Finally, Michael cleared his throat, and I turned my attention to him. He leaned back in the leather chair, watching me, his expression stoic. I was usually very good at reading people, but aside from Elise, Michael was the one other person who had a lockdown on what he was thinking and feeling. That’s why he was a shark in the courtroom, why I paid him a small fortune on his retainer... because he knew when to keep his poker face on and when to bluff to win the game.

  And right now, he had one hell of a poker face on.

  “So?” I leaned forward and braced my forearms on the smooth top, clasping my hands together.

  “It’s unethical as hell,” Michael finally said, and I scoffed.

  “That’s my father for you.”

  Michael gave me a smile. He had known my father well.

  He exhaled. “But it’s legal, unfortunately. Stated in the trust, the Blacksmith Corporation and all affiliated companies shall be kept and passed on through your heir.” Michael looked at me. “But if no heir exists in your instance, then the trustee—your father—shall have sole discretion as to who will inherit the company.”

  And like a kick to the nuts, I knew that wouldn’t be me.

  He’d rather sell it off than let his only son keep the company alive.

  “Fuck,” I cursed low, not even trying to hide my frustration or censor my annoyance and profanity.

  “We can fight it, but the fact of the matter is, it would take time and money, and in the end, you might lose everything.”

  I was silent for long minutes. I was trying to think this through, figure out what I was going to do.

  “You and I have known each other a long time, Lucius.” I turned my attention to Michael. “Hell, we grew up together.”

  I didn’t know where this was going, but I listened, knowing Michael would get to his point.

  “You worked hard, dealt with a lot of shit from your old man.” He paused. “I’d hate to see you lose everything all because of this.”

  Because of this?

  “So what, you think I should just find some random woman, get her pregnant, and be done with it?”

  Michael shrugged. “That’s your call and yours alone. All I’m saying is I’d hate for you to lose everything you worked for simply because your cold father set this into motion. You sometimes have to make those hard decisions, even if they seem counterproductive to what you want in life.”

  I knew Michael had a point, and maybe it would’ve been easy for him, but for me, it was just another corner my father had put me in, and the outcome wasn’t any better no matter what route I took.

  11

  Elise

  The taxi came to a stop in front of the landlord’s house, and I looked out the window, feeling my skin crawl. I had a couple interactions with him before, neither of them having been pleasant.

  Once had been when he showed up unannounced at my aunt’s house stating he needed to check the piping in the bathroom. The other time was when we were grilling out, and he once again stopped over unannounced, because he said he saw smoke and there had been complaints.

  A part of me felt like he just stopped by because he was a nosy fucker and didn’t have anything else to do. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he tried riffling through my aunt’s underwear drawer and sniffing them. That’s how fucking dirty he was.

  I looked at the driver and could see him watching me in the rearview mirror. “Are you able to wait for me? This should only take a few minutes.” I hoped, at least.

  He gave me a small odd, and I climbed out, clutching my purse to my side as I walked up the cracked asphalt to his front door. His lawn was overgrown, with weeds creeping up along the porch banisters. There were brown patches scattered throughout the grass, as if a dog had just gone around peeing on places and he hadn’t cared one way or another.

  He had faux shutters on the windows, one of them hanging off the hinges. The living room window was cracked in the corner, duct tape securing it. It was a little bit funny in a non-humorous way how he was giving my aunt and mother a hard time about the raised bed when his house looked like something out of a horror movie.

  I took the rickety wooden porch steps one at a time and stopped in front of his door, bringing my knuckles down on the door three times. The sound echoed, and I took a step back. I actually had no idea what I planned on telling him. But I didn’t want to wait, and so I’d just gotten a taxi to bring me over here as soon
as I left Aunt Frannie’s place. Might as will get this done and over with.

  Another part of me told me this was a bad idea, that I would make things worse. That wasn’t my intention, and I was hoping he could see on a more empathetic note what that little garden did for my mom and aunt, how it helped them. Surely, he could take some pity and sympathize with an older woman and a paraplegic.

  I brought my knuckles down on the door again. I heard him shout on the other side to, “give him a fucking minute.”

  Perfect. This was already starting off well.

  A moment later, I heard a lock disengage on the other side, and then the wooden door swung inward before he pushed open the metal screen door. The first thing that assaulted me was his smell. Given the stench, I wondered when the last time he bathed was. The landlord was a dirty asshole, wearing a pair of faded, stained jeans with holes in the knees, a white tank top that was frayed around the edges and where his massive pot belly hung out from the bottom.

  He had yellow pit stains, and something wet was splashed on the front of his chest, as if he’d been drinking his beer and poured it all over himself. A cigarette hung out of his mouth, and his days-old beard looked scraggly and unkempt.

  I refrained from covering my nose with a hand or showing on my expression how nasty he looked.

  “Yeah?”

  I cleared my throat, not sure what to say all of the sudden, when he pulled his cigarette out from between his lips and blew a waft of smoke toward me. I clenched my jaw, already knowing he wasn’t going to budge with whatever I asked. But I’d still try.

  “Hi. I’m the niece of Frannie Willock and the daughter of Charlene.” He looked at me with a blank expression as if he had no idea who I was talking about. “They live at your rental on 38 Dexter Corner.” He rested a shoulder against the doorframe and still kept his expression neutral. He put the cigarette back in his mouth and took another long drag from it. “I wanted to talk to you about the raised garden they have in the backyard.” I curled my hands into fists at my sides as my nerves tried to take over. “I wanted to see if we could come to some kind of compromise so they could keep it.”