It's a bit ironic that I actually cut my finger while writing this...

You'll get it...

It was six pm and Ms. Wilson still wasn't here. From my balcony, earlier today, I saw her leaving, but she hasn't come back since and I am starving.

   I took up the walky-talky from my bedside table so if Henrique woke up, I would hear him. I exit my room and made an aim for the kitchen. Since Ms. Wilson isn't here I might as well dish up something for myself and Henrique.

   I open the right door of the fridge and start looking for something to cook. The fridge was packed any there were so much things to choose from. I end up opening the two doors. I took out some onions, green pepper, green onions, potatoes and mixed vegetables putting them on the counter. I pulled over a chair and stand on it to reach the cupboards.

   After opening a few cupboards, I found the canned foods. I reached from the sweet corn and baked beans.

I know what I'm going to cook!

   Mashed potatoes with mixed veggies and baked beans.

   Placing all the ingredients on the counter, I start looking for the pots which where in a bottom cupboard. When I found the pots, I washed them out with some water.

      I add some water to the sauce pan and turn the stove on low. After taking out the cutting board, I opened one of the draws looking for a vegetable cutter and when I found it I started to peel the potatoes. When I finish peeling them, I wash them with salt water. I turned up the stove and add some salt to the pot. I start cutting the potatoes small so by the time the water finished boiling they'd be ready.

    I placed the sliced onions and pepper in the frying pot that contained the hot oil. They started to fry as soon as they went in. The scent fill my nose and I smile.

   I love cooking. I remember my very first cooking lesson when I was eight.

"Papa, when is the food is gonna finish. Tengo hambre." I pouted as I looked up at my stepfather.

    "Yo se, mi hija but you have to wait, the rice is uncooked." He gave me genuine smile, he reached out his hands and gesture for me to come. "Come, I'll teach you how to cook arroz so when you get your esposo you can cook for him, Si?"

   Sighing I took his hands. "No quiero un esposo. Boys are mean."

   Laughing, he shakes his head. "Okay, mi hija. Ven aquí"

  I smiled at the memory. Henrique Messi was a great man.

    I was opening the can of the baked beans when I heard a very loud scream. Frightened out of my mind I quickly release it from my hands and turn around.

  Looking at me was a very angry Ms. Wilson.

   "What are you doing in my kitchen?" she blazed with anger.

What a drama queen!

   I actually thought something was wrong. I noticed a slight pain in my index finger, so I looked down.

Way to go Mr. Wilson.

   I hadn't felt when the can cut me. Maybe it was because I was so frightened at the older woman's outburst.

   "Ooh, look what you made me do." I lifted my bleeding hands. A few drops on the floor. "Look what you made do me."

      I used my left hand to hold the bleeding finger. "When I first came here, I was told this place belongs to Alexander Carter and not a Cynthia Wilson." I looked back down at my hands then back at her.. "Look what you just made me so, all because I'm using a kitchen that doesn't belong to you. The screaming wasn't necessary. Totally uncalled for."

   "What's going on here?" Alexander was now standing beside Ms. Wilson.

   I lifted my hands that were now both bloody to show him. "Her fault. She screamed because she saw me using the kitchen. Am I not allowed to eat unless she cooks." I winced at the pain. "Now, my finger is probably cut off because I touched your perfect little mansion kitchen and now the place bloody."

  Alexander walks over to where I am standing, he noticed the drops of blood on the floor and sighs.

   "Ms. Wilson, clean this up." Turning to me he said. "Come with me."

   I followed closely behind him. Still on the ground floor we turn right from the kitchen then walked straight down the hall. The last room to the wall, he opened it and wanted for me to enter.

   My jaw dropped when I noticed the room.

A sick bay.

   He had a sick bay in his house. Correction, Mansion.

    Closing the door behind me, he said to me. "Go wash my hands in the sink then go sit on one of the beds."

    I did exactly what I was told, I went to the sink and washed my hands. The pressure of the water hitting my cut caused me to groan so when the blood stopped a little I quickly turn off the pipe and walked the nearest bed.

    I took a seat on the twin bed that was coved with white bed sheets.

   Alexander walked over to me with a first aid kit in his hands. Not knowing exactly what to do I reached out my left hands.

   "What are you doing?" he questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Aren't you going to give me the kit?"

   Shaking his head. "No, you can't do that yourself. I will dress it for you."

   Those were among the last words I've ever thing he would say to me. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

   Taking a seat beside on the bed, he rests the kit to his side. "Give me your hands."

   I held out my arms for him to take. His hands were cold, so they made me shiver a bit. He lifts my hand up to his eyes and start examining it.

   "It's a pretty deep." I tried to focus my attention on my bruised hand, but it was hard when his strong shoulders where so close to mine. He reached over in the kit to get something, but I wasn't paying attention to that, all my focus was on his muscles that were touching my hand, the felt rip and gym made. "This is gonna hurt a bit."

   A cool liquid contacted my cut and I jump, my face grimace. "That hurt!"

"I told you it was gonna hurt."

   "I wasn't listening." I was too busy paying attention to your biceps.

   "Too bad. Now give me back your hands." I looked in his light brown eyes as I slowly give him back my hands. "The bleeding has stopped, are you allergic to anything?" he asked without lifting his head.

   "Not that I know of, No." I was really enjoying the feeling of his hands-on mine. This was bad, really bad.

   "Perfect, I'm going to apply an ointment on the cut or an antibiotic cream." He lifts the antibiotics to his eyes and start reading. "Antibiotic it is." He dripped a cotton bud in the cream then close the bottle. He held my hands tight as he applied the cream. I reached over the kit and took out a band-aid and wrapped it around my index finger.

"See, all done." I lifted my eyes to his.

"Thanks."

  "Don't thank me. You shouldn't have been in the kitchen." So now we're back to that ugh?

"I was hungry."

  "So was I but you don't see me in the kitchen."

   I raised my eyebrows at him while I looked at him annoyed. "I was hungry, and she wasn't here. I had no idea that the kitchen was off limits to me."

  "Well now you know that it is." He closes the first aid kid and stood.

"That's unfair."

  "How is it unfair?" he looked down at me, his eyes emotionless.

"Well, Ms. Wilson doesn't like me."

  Not denying my words he responds, "Ms. Wilson doesn't like a lot of people."

  "Then why do I have to eat from her if she doesn't like me?"

  "Because she's the one who cooks the food here," Well, no shit sherlock, I really knew that.

"What if she tries to poison me?"

   Shaking his head, he walked over to the cabinet. "She's not going to poison you, she's not a murderer."

"Says all murderers." I mumble.

   I turned his head and look me in the eyes. "Yes, she doesn't like you, but she isn't going to kill you. The next time you're hungry call delivery or go buy something yourself. I don't want the next time you go in the kitchen cooking you lose a hand!"

   I looked at him angrily. "For your information, Mr. Wilson scared the hell out of me and that's why the can cut my hand. I'll have you know that I'm a great cook."

  "I didn't say you weren't."

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  "I don't like it here."

  "Then leave!" he shouted, his turn to me.

  "You damn well know I can't." I looked at his back because I wasn't able to see his face. He the reason for this.

   "Everyone has a choice." He close the cabinet and turn to look at me.

  "You damn well know, I don't. I don't like being here because if I go in the kitchen, Ms. Wilson gives me bad looks, if I go in the garden, the gardener gives me back looks, If I so much as go close to the shih Tzu, he starts growling. Nobody here likes me." My voice became lower as the emotions just got thicker and thicker.

  "I can't let the workers like you, it's a personal choice they make."

   I shake my head at him, "That's where you're wrong. The only way they're treating me like that is because you tell them that I'm Henrique's mother. I'm not his mother. I don't have a child. Never given birth. Never gotten pregnant. Never..." I took a deep breath before I said something I'll regret. "I'm not mother, I'm just the sister of his mother."

   "The only way to prove that you aren't his mother is to help me find your sister." He was right. He had to find my sister, but he was wrong. That wasn't the only way to find out if Henrique was my child.

   "You're wrong. A DNA test will prove that he isn't mine. We can do a DNA test." I needed to do that DNA test, it was the only way I could prove my innocence. Prove that I'm not the woman who left her child in an office.

   "Okay, fine. We do the DNA test and you're not his mother who will take care of him?" he questioned.

   "I will," I promised. "I'll stay and take care of him when you get the test. I'll try until you find my sister and make her pay."

   "Deal. I'll set an appointment with the doctor and I'll tell you when. For now, all I can do is to speak to the workers."

   "Will they listen to you?" I mentally slapped myself after I asked that question.

   "Unless they don't need a job anymore they have every right to listen." He turned away and walked to the door, looking back at me, he says, "Make sure you come in here and change the bandage everyday and apply the antibiotic cream as well. I'll make the appointment with the doctor tomorrow." He turned and opening the door then exiting, leaving me on the bed he had ordered me to sit on.

   I lift my hand and look at my banded finger. He did a pretty good job with it. I probably should have paid attention to what he was doing instead of feasting on him with him eyes. But I couldn't help myself, he was really handsome beast and I just couldn't help with stare at his muscles and how they were flexing as he helped with my injured finger.

It was so out of line for me yet so me.

  A few years ago, I would look at a man and fanaticized about him and not feel any way, but this was different. I did feel something.

  Something deep down in my liked him even though I hated him.