“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.
“Hello, Mia.”
She looked up at me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The sun caught a few of the piercings that decorated her lobe, causing them to glint in the light. “Lucas.”
There was no warmth in her voice, but I didn’t expect any. She slotted a bookmark between the pages and placed the book to the side. I noticed there was no crack in the spine. From what I’ve learned of Mia in the very short time we’d known each other, I was not surprised that she treated her things with care.
