Chapter 4 - Mia
four
Mia
Something causes me to jolt awake, and through my groggy eyes, I look around trying to figure out where the hell I am.
That's when everything from the night before plays out in my mind.
Looking to my left, I realize I'm lying next to the man who paid for me last night.
I give myself about two seconds to admire how sexy and hot he is.
After a moment, I feel the anxiety run through me and I'm ready to get out of here. To go and pick up my money, work on my plan of getting out of this city, and away from my mother. As quietly as possible, I extract myself from the man next to me.
Grabbing my bra off the floor of his bedroom, I strap it back on.
I try to look for my underwear but can't find them quickly enough. An image of him ripping my thong off enters my head and I let them go, knowing I’ll be remembering that moment again and again.
Tiptoeing out of the room, I find my dress and pull it back on before hitting the button on the elevator, praying the whole time it doesn't wake him up.
I'm finally able to breathe again once I'm outside of his building, and inside an Uber heading toward the club, to pick up my money.
Fifteen minutes later I'm walking into the club where Guy is sitting, handing out money. "Hey Guy, I'm here to collect my money."
"Your mother already picked it up," he grumbles making my whole body go cold.
Fuck! Now I won't be able to take a small portion to horde for my escape. Trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, I reply, "Ok, thanks, Guy."
Turning away from him, I head back outside and grab a car to take me home, hoping that I'm able to at least get a shower before having to deal with my mother and her antics.
The moment I walk through the door, I see Anastasia sitting in the living room, seemingly waiting for me. I'm proven right when she whispers, "Mia."
"Yeah?" I ask, not wanting to look at her.
Somehow, our family went from being the three of us against the world, to now, where we're pitted against each other.
When Mom met her latest husband, he came with a daughter, Ella.
Mother, being jealous of the attention she got from her father, would encourage us to be mean to her.
And even though that wasn't what I wanted, it felt as if the three of us had a common enemy. But lately, things feel different between mother and I, and sometimes even Anastasia and me. As if we’ve become enemies, too.
"Ella didn't come home last night," she informs me.
Those words make me turn, because Ella always follows the rules. Mother gets really upset when she doesn't and gives her pretty bad consequences, like locking her in her room with no food.
"Was she working at the bar?" I ask my sister.
Ella works at a bar not too far from the house, mother makes her pay most of the bills here, especially the hospital bills for her father.
"Mother thinks she went to the bar first, but she swears she saw her last night at Midnight Club," she explains, but something feels like its missing.
"I'm sure she's going to show up. I'll be in the shower if you need me," I tell her, trying to escape this conversation.
"I hope you’re right, because she still has a purpose," she says, but her tone is extremely cold.
I don't respond, I just leave, heading to my room. All they seem to think about is the purpose Ella serves, which is getting her to sign over her dad’s estate before he dies.
Turning on the shower, I let it heat up as I take my dress off, placing it on the back of my chair to send to the dry cleaners.
As soon as I'm done, I hop into the shower, allowing the hot water to relax my body and try to forget about the man who rocked my world.
Sadness washes over me knowing I'll never see him again, but it’s time to move on. Once I'm done, I get out, wrapping myself in a towel. I walk into my bedroom and freeze when I see my mother sitting on the bed, waiting for me.
"Mia," she says coldly.
"Mother," I mutter.
"How was last night?"
"It was fine," I answer, walking toward the closet.
"Do you know who you went home with?"
Her question has me freezing in place again before turning slowly to look at her, curious as to where she is going with this. "He said his name was Kieran," I mutter.
"He is the heir to the Irish Mafia," she says to me and all the blood drains from my face.
Holy shit. I can't believe I slept with someone from the Mafia, but at the same time I’m not that surprised—he did reek of danger.
"Are you seeing him again?" she asks, getting up from the bed.
"No, we didn't make any plans to see each other again," I mutter, while shaking my head.
Mother takes two big steps until she's standing right in front of me, staring into my eyes, as if she's is going to extract my soul from my body.
"Find a way to see him again. He would be good to have on our side," she commands, before turning her back on me and starting to walk out of the room. Before she reaches the door, she freezes, then demands, "And make it soon. We wouldn't want to delay."
"Yes, Mother," I mutter, ready for her to be out of my sight.
I hate when she comes to see me because she's always demanding something.
She's never satisfied. Anastasia and I are always bending over backwards to keep her happy.
But I'm not sure Mother's been happy since our father passed.
Not even when she married our stepfather and successfully placed him into a medically induced coma to have access to all of his assets.
My hair drips down my back, reminding me I need to finish getting dressed. I walk back into my closet, grabbing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt that reads, Such a Good Girl.
I love to read, especially spicy romance books. Unfortunately, Mother keeps us busy so I don't get to read as often as I would like. Today though, my plan is to keep my head down, stay in my room, and read a book. Usually after nights at the club, Mother leaves me alone for the day.
Once I'm dressed, I brush my hair and style it into two braids to keep it out of my face. When I'm satisfied my hair will stay put, I walk over to my bed, opening the drawer to my nightstand and grab my Kindle. I boot it up while climbing under the covers.
For days when I'm reading, I have a whole setup—a little stand that holds my kindle, and snacks that sit on one side of my bed—while I snuggle into my huge lounge pillow with the blanket my grandmother made me when I was eight. These moments are when I'm happiest.
Opening up my book, I get about a few pages in when I feel my eyes getting heavy. Before I can even process my book, darkness takes over.