3. Emilia
CHAPTER 3
Emilia
I sit at my usual corner table in Emilia’s Café, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baked pastries. The morning light filters through large, paned windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden floors and the soft pastel hues of the walls. The mismatched vintage chairs and tables, each with its own story, add to the cozy, eclectic charm that I’ve painstakingly curated.
Outside, Edenton’s historic streets are lined with Georgian homes overlooking the wide-open bay. The sidewalks aren’t as busy as they usually would be on a Monday morning. I glance at the ledger before me, the numbers stark against the page. Despite my efforts, the recent opening of the nearby shopping mall has siphoned away much of the foot traffic that once filled my café.
Paige, my ever-enthusiastic part-timer, approaches, her apron slightly askew and a smudge of flour on her cheek. She’s been a great help to me from the start, ever since the café opened. She’s eighteen years old, with dark brown hair and the brightest smile.
“It’s really quiet today,” Paige remarks, her brows furrowing with concern.
I offer her a reassuring smile, though my heart mirrors her worry.
“It is, but we’ll find a way to bring people back in. Maybe it’s time to think about hosting some events or introducing a new menu item.”
She nods, her eyes brightening. “A pottery night could be fun! Or maybe a workshop on brewing the perfect cup of coffee.”
I make note of her suggestions, grateful for her youthful optimism.
“Those are wonderful ideas, Paige. Let’s start planning and see if we can remind Edenton why they fell in love with this place in the first place.”
As she returns to her duties, I take a moment to look around the café. The potted plants in the corners, the chalkboard menu with its artful calligraphy, and the soft hum of indie music playing in the background. Everything was designed to create an inviting atmosphere. I had it all thought out. This place was supposed to be worth everything I scarified to get here.
My hand clenches around the pen in my hand. That damn shopping center. Fuck the Harringtons.
Because of course they’re responsible for building it. The family has their hands in every single piece of prime real estate in the town. They’re the reason the small quaint town I fell in love with when I first arrived is slowly disappearing. It’s funny because despite having only lived here for a couple of years, I’m one of the few people in town that’s against the new developments. Everyone else just loves it.
So, yeah, I’d say the Harringtons are definitely the source of all my current frustrations.
“It’s okay, though,” I say to myself. “I overcame insurmountable odds to be where I am today. I’m not going to let a shopping mall stand in the way of my dreams.”
With renewed determination, I turn back to the financials, ready to strategize and adapt. This café is more than just a business, it’s a reflection of my passion and drive to not just succeed but to live. It’s the first thing I’ve ever owned and I’ll do whatever it takes to save it.
An hour later and not one person has walked into the café. Which is ridiculous. It’s ten in the morning, surely people need coffee to function. I know I do.
When the bell at the front door chimes, I practically jump out of my seat. Then immediately deflate when I see it’s my sister. She struts into the shop in her wedge heels, black jeans, and crop top, looking like she’s walking on a runway and not into an empty coffee shop.
She beams when she sees me and I’m about to smile back when my gaze is drawn to the shopping bags in her hand. I gasp like I just witnessed a fucking murder, my hands going over my mouth.
Anika startles. “What is it?”
“Nika,” I start, my voice low, “are those shopping bags from the new mall?”
She pauses, looks down at her hand, and then shrugs. “Yeah, I needed new clothes.”
“You betrayer,” I say accusingly.
Anika laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, sissy. It’s not like I went to a café in the mall or anything like that.”
“We should be boycotting that place,” I insist. “Not giving our money to the capitalists.”
“Technically you’re also a capitalist considering you have your own business for profit,” Anika points out.
“I don’t need you to show off that you minored in marketing right now,” I say tiredly.
I guess she can see that I’m genuinely upset because she sighs softly before coming to stand beside me. She throws an arm around me, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly.
“That bad, huh?”
“No one’s walked in here all morning,” I complain.
“Have you considered what Carson suggested? This place is amazing, but people are always intrigued by something new. What if you moved your café into the mall? I’m sure he could make it happen for you.”
I balk. “You want me to join my oppressors?”
“Okay, calm down, drama queen.” Anika giggles. “Come on, I came because I was excited to show you this new purse I got at the mall for Mom. They just opened a new Chanel store and I thought it looked cute.”
“She’ll love it,” I say on a smile.
We take a seat and Anika proceeds to show off the contents of her shopping bags. She’s always had good taste and she even got me a cute bracelet so I have no choice but to forgive her disloyal actions.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Sterling’s back in town,” she mentions.
“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Sterling Harrington,” she reminds me.
“Oh. My arch nemesis,” I mutter, wondering why I should care about his presence in town.
I think back to the rumors surrounding him right now and immediately feel bad, though. If he’s had to return to a place he hasn’t stepped foot in for five years, then things must be really rough.
“You’ve never even met the guy and he’s already your arch nemesis?”
I shrug. “Every Harrington’s my arch nemesis, Nika. Anyway, so is Carson coming back? I know he’s been worried about his friend.”
She nods, “Yeah, he’ll be here in about in a couple of hours. We’re driving up to the Harrington mansion. Do you want to come along?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Come on, aren’t you curious about the home of your arch nemeses? Also, Sterling—doesn’t the idea of meeting him intrigue you a little bit?”
I give her my best uninterested stare. “Anika, from what I’ve heard about the guy from Carson, I’m almost sure he’s a jerk.”
“Oh, he is,” my sister assures me. “But he’s kind of a loveable jerk?”
I scoff. “Not interested.”
“Come on, Em. You’ll see him around town eventually. He’s going to be here awhile. Let’s just get introductions out of the way now.”
The thing about my sister is that she’s extremely skilled at getting whatever she wants. Anika wears you down so much that you have no choice but to say yes. Which is why later that evening, I’m in a car with my siblings, driving up a long, narrow, tree-lined road that leads to the Harrington estate.
I’ve never been here before, which is why I’m incapable of downplaying my shock at the display of wealth. I knew these people were rich but I didn’t think they were this rich. The tires crunch softly on the gravel as we drive up to the gated mansion.
Carson, at the wheel, hums along to the faint jazz music playing from the speakers in the car, while Anika sits beside him, scrolling through her phone. I’m sat in the back, gawking like an idiot as the road opens up to a sprawling vista. The mansion stands majestically at the end of the drive, an imposing structure with its symmetrical design and grand columns.
“Damn, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore,” I mutter under my breath.
We’re granted entrance through the gate by the security guard posted in front of it. Carson drives in, navigating a smooth curve around a large white fountain with an obnoxious statue in the middle of it before we finally come to a stop.
I step out of the car, blowing out a soft breath as I take in the grandeur. Near the entrance, there’s a man in his early fifties standing there wearing a crisp black suit, his expression devoid of any emotion.
“That’s Karl,” Anika says, coming to stand beside me. “He’s the butler.”
“Right…” I trail off. Of course they have a butler.
Karl stands poised, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of practiced professionalism. Other staff members move discreetly about, each engaged in tasks that ensure the estate runs like a well-oiled machine.
“Welcome to the Harrington residence,” Karl intones, his voice smooth and rehearsed.
“Yo, Karl,” Carson says with a whistle and I almost facepalm.
You’d think my brother would act more courteous and formal in the face of all this. But nope, he just strolls forward, claps the butler on the back, and trades a few words with him, asking about his family. Karl doesn’t seem to mind, though. He offers my brother a small smile and then turns to Anika.
“It’s been a while, Miss Cameron.”
I don’t miss the way his gaze flickers toward me in question.
“How have you been, Karl?” she greets before placing her arm around mine. “This is my sister, Emilia. Carson and I thought we’d introduce her to Sterling. How is he, anyway?”
Karl’s smile turns into a grimace. “You’d have to see that for yourself, Miss Cameron. You can go in. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cameron.”
I offer him a warm smile before bending my head toward Anika.
My voice lowers an octave. “He knows he can call us by our names right?”
Anika laughs. “Don’t even start. Trust me, that’s a losing battle.”
“Let’s go,” Carson calls, leading us through the massive double doors adorned with intricate carvings.
I try not to make too much of a fool of myself gawking as we walk into the house. Karl shows us to an opulent living room before informing us that Mr. Sterling Harrington will join us shortly. The room exudes elegance, with high ceilings, ornate moldings, and plush furnishings that speak of so much affluence.
I take a seat next to Anika on the couch, while Carson stays standing beside Karl. They’re talking about his business and he seems really friendly with the butler. Then again, Carson’s friendly with everybody. All he has to do is turn up that magnetic charm with a smile, run a hand through his dirty-blond hair and everyone is putty around him. It’s so annoying.
Five minutes pass and Mr. Harrington still hasn’t shown up. Meanwhile, I’ve realized I need to pee.
“Excuse me,” I say, rising from my seat. “Could you point me to the restroom?”
Karl nods politely. “Certainly, miss. Down the hall to your left. I could call someone to show you there,” he offers.
I wave him off. “It’s fine. I can manage on my own.”
He shows me exactly where to go and I walk out of the living room, following his directions and finding the bathroom easily. After doing my business, though, I start to get curious about the rest of the house. Figuring no one will mind me giving myself a little tour, I walk a little further inward, which turns out to be a huge mistake. The labyrinthine corridors of the mansion soon have me disoriented. As I turn yet another corner, I nearly collide with a small boy.
He steps back at the last minute and I falter before standing up straight, looking down at the kid with flushed cheeks.
“Hi,” I greet bashfully.
He stands at about three-and-a-half feet, with a mop of dark, slightly tousled hair that contrasts strikingly with his light green eyes and his warm caramel-toned skin. Despite his young age, there’s a certain seriousness in his gaze, a curiosity tempered with caution.
“Who are you?” he demands, his small brows knitting together in a frown.
My lips tilt up in a smile. He’s such a cutie. Kneeling down to his level, I offer a gentle smile.
“Hi, there. I’m Emilia. I’m visiting with my siblings. What’s your name?”
He hesitates as if weighing the risk of sharing personal information before replying, “Sean.”
“Nice to meet you, Sean. I took a wrong turn and got lost. This house is so big. I feel like I’m in Oz.”
His frown eases slightly, a flicker of interest lighting up in his eyes. “Oz?”
I nod with a small laugh. “Yeah. It’s from a movie called The Wizard of Oz . The main character Dorothy gets transported to the magical land of Oz and she finds herself in a strange place, all alone.”
“She must have been sad,” the little boy says gently.
My heart aches a little at how easily he understood that.
“Yeah, she was. The movie was my favorite when I was younger. I used to read the book, too. They’re really fun.”
His green eyes brighten. “I’d like to read the book.”
Before I can respond, a deep, authoritative voice interrupts.
“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with my son?”
I look up to see a man towering over us, his presence commanding and intense. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a physique that suggests he works out often. His dark hair is neatly styled and his chiseled features could easily grace a magazine cover. However, the deep frown etched on his face adds a formidable edge to his handsomeness, making him appear unapproachable.
Rising to my feet, I feel a flush creep up my neck. But I refuse to let him intimidate me.
“Hi. I’m Emilia.”
His eyes, a mirror of Sean’s striking green, narrow as they assess me.
“Sean, come here,” he calls for his son. The little boy immediately goes over to his father’s side.
His father steps closer, positioning himself protectively between me and his child.
“This is private property, Emilia ,” he sneers. “And you’re currently trespassing.”
Geez, dramatic much?
“I promise I’m not,” I say quickly, keeping my voice steady. “I’m here with my siblings to meet Sterling Harrington.”
His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I feel pinned under its intensity.
“I’m Sterling Harrington.”
Oh. Well, that checks out. He really is a jerk.
“Who are your siblings?” he asks.
“Carson and Anika,” I reply sheepishly because really I wouldn’t be in this position if I hadn’t wanted to give myself a tour of someone else’s home. I was wrong. “I apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Harrington. It was an honest mistake.”
He studies me for a moment longer, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. Then he’s pulling his phone out of the pocket of his black pants. I stay silent as he types something in and two minutes later, Karl appears.
He shoots me a sharp look and I apologize as best as I can with my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington. Miss Cameron seems to have wandered off,” he says to his boss.
Sterling turns up his aristocratic nose, the frown on his face not letting up in the slightest.
“She’s Carson’s sister?” he asks Karl suspiciously.
Dude, I already told you I was.
“Yes sir. She arrived with him and Miss Anika Cameron.”
“Alright then,” Sterling Harrington states, turning to me with a curt nod. “Karl will escort you back to the living room.”
As I follow the butler back, I feel the weight of Sterling Harrington’s gaze on me, a mixture of suspicion and something else I can’t quite place.