I push the surprisingly open door, a soft sigh escapes me as my feet carry me in the direction of the kitchen so I can wet my parched throat and my arms wrap around me. My heart clenches at the memory that springs up on me when my eyes fleet to the entrance of the kitchen, the image of Brandon standing there in all his handsome glory.

Blocking out his familiar voice, I refuse to succumb to the tingles travelling down my body as he talks dirty to me. He did it only once, after much cajoling but the memory is as vivid as the first day it happened. My hands drop to my sides, I let out a sigh. For someone who claims not to care, I spend a lot of time in my head, thinking only of him.

To be honest, I can’t say I missed this huge, empty place but standing here brings back memories that hurt to remember. I still love him. If Clarissa hadn’t made a joke about me leaving, I won’t be here. As much as her place feels like home, she needs time alone to herself without my constant sulking and forced apathy. She will never turn her back on me even if it was hurting her but I can’t keep bleeding on her when she didn’t cut me.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, she would have scolded me for thinking this way. Friends are for the good times as much as the bad, it is up to her to decide what she can take. Maybe she is right, she can handle my current mood swings but here I am.

I needed to leave that place anyways, even if it was only for a day or two. It is only a matter of days before Josh finds out where I am and tries to reach out to me again.

He doesn’t give up.

To my disappointment, he quickly got over my rejection. I had hoped it would hurt him as much as it still does me, get him off my case for a while. But that man is as stubborn as his brother. He is an idiot but he will always be one of the kindest idiots on earth. My first true male friend. I forgive him but for now, I don’t want anything to do with him.

Yet he keeps making it hard for both of us with his constant calls and texts, still, I can’t bring myself to block him. His approach has changed, he wants to help me out of this mess of a marriage I got myself into. If it is a debt that got me into this bondage with his brother, he will settle it at no cost, all I need to do is say the word. What word? I have no idea the magnitude of the issue between him and his brother but he needs to leave me out of it. They are old enough to settle their issues without dragging a third party into it.

Gulping the glass of chilled water, I let out a satisfied sigh, resting a hand on the island. The tightening of my belly causes my arm to wrap around my torso. My eyes skid to the tall fridge and I scurry to open it. I can’t help feeling like a criminal as I pull out two bars of chocolate I never kept in there, the only items that don’t make my stomach churn.

The guilt triples as I close the fridge but I don’t return it. I am hungry, I always am but my appetite is shit. Most of the meals taste bland to me, I swear they lose their taste as soon as they touch my tongue. Having Clarissa prepare a different meal for me each time she cooks has gotten tiring. But this will be over soon, my period ends in two days.

One look at the bars in my hand and my breath ceases. Dark chocolates. My eyes dart to the doors, half-expecting him to appear here and hug me from behind. I don’t mind acting as if things are okay for a few minutes and I scold myself for thinking that way.

Is he home?

He didn’t inform me. I slap my forehead gently, there is no way he could have even if he had tried. Clarissa never mentioned it either, she uses the media to track his movements to forcefully keep me up to date. She is not as subtle as she thinks with her info dump, we both know she is doing it for me, my sanity and I appreciate it even if I won’t voice it out.

“Mrs Stark?”

Startled, I jump at the sound of the voice, my head spins from how fast I turned to the source. I place a hand over my heart, my shoulders deflate when my gaze lands on her.

“Lydia,” I say. She touches a hand to her face, my lips shift into a more genuine smile, we are both nervous. Knowing that stops my fingers digging into my hip through the ankle-length kimono. Her hand lowers to her front. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.”

Her lips pull into a grim line, I giggle as she smoothens the invisible creases of her plaid gown. Her low bun looks tight, not a single hair is out of place and I find myself laying down my untamed edges with my fingers. I take one step forward, she eyes me warily.

“Call me, El, that will do just fine.” If grandma was still alive, she would have spanked me for daring to call a woman as old as Lydia by her name. It’s only fair for her to do the same with me. She opens her mouth, I shake my head. “El. My name is El, I prefer that.”

“I can’t do that, Mrs...” she trails off when I sweep my kimono to the side to place my hand on my waist. My foot drum into the floor, she frowns. “Brandon won’t like it.”

“Is he home?”

Clasping her hands in front of her, she shakes her head. “No, ma’am.”

Our eyes clash, the glint in them shows she won’t back down on this, I let out a defeated sigh. “If you get to call Brandon by his first name, why can’t I get the same treatment?”

A smile forms on her lips like she knows a secret I don’t. “You will have to ask him that.”

On closer observation, I note the tiny wrinkles scattered all over her forehead and my lips pucker into a pout. She reminds me of those stern black mothers in soap operas with her huge bosom and thick hips. Fast to whoop your ass, faster to cuddle you.

The tension in the air ebbs when she manages a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkle and I bounce on my toes. “If he approves it, I promise to call you whatever you want.”

“But I’m the Madame of the house,” I say and puff my chest with my hands akimbo. “I approve it.” She chuckles at my tone, I must sound like a spoilt toddler. “Call me, El.” My voice lowers, “I promise not to tell him.” Her chuckles increase, it washes over me like cold water on a sunny day. “El.” I offer her a small smile. “Call me, El. Please.”

Meeting my gaze with less intensity, she nods. “Okay, El.”

Her response elicits a chuckle and a happy dance from me, she shakes her head, I pout. I like being around her. She has a calm aura that doesn’t need her to say a word, her quiet presence is enough. Smiling at the concern swimming in her eyes as she watches me lift myself to the kitchen island, I giggle and her shoulders relax when my buttocks meet the smooth surface. Being around her reminds me of Ma but I don’t want to lie to her about him—us.

I motion for her to sit on the high stool in front of me, she does that without resistance. “Today is Sunday.” She nods, her eyes lift to my face “You don’t work on weekends.”

“No, I don’t.” I wait for her to explain further and she does. “I missed a day this week, I caught a cold.” My mouth parts to find out about her current state of health, she smiles. “But I feel much better now, it’s why I am here today.” I nod. “Brandon is aware.”

Caught unaware by the mention of his name, I blink twice and her eyes wander to my hair in a bun. My lips move into a shy smile, I look away as her gaze lingers on my hair, I have stopped wearing it down. The relationship she has with Brandon is different from what I expected, better and I can’t help the thought that filters into my mind, the name.

Eunice. Is he trying to replace her? He could have hired someone as young as Jamie.

My hands buckle from the weight of half of my body resting on them, I straighten up. The growl from my stomach catches her attention, she stands, probably to get me food to eat but I stop her, retrieving the chocolates from my pocket to wave it in front of her face. She lowers herself back to the seat with a frown, I fight back the urge to smile.

I am almost certain she would have forced me to eat something better if we were close.

The silence is comfortable as I munch on the first bar with my feet bouncing in the air, I offer her the second one but she refuses and I can’t help the relief that surges through me. I need every bit of this chocolatey goodness, it might the only thing I will eat today.

“How long have you been working for him?” Her answer takes a while to come, when it does, it leads to more questions until she announces her leave and my head bobs.

A pang of loneliness hits me after her departure, I like her. I leave the kitchen without a location in mind and my heart slows at the sight of Brandon’s open office. I retrace my steps, all thoughts about giving him the silent treatment forgotten as my feet carry me to the door and my heart hammers at the sight of the person seated behind his desk.

My hand goes over my chest as if to calm my rioting heart, I whisper, “Sophia?”

Her eyes lift from the files on the desk, the chair clatters to the ground as she rushes to engulf me in a hug like we are old friends reuniting after a decade. I stiffen in her arms, my hands glue to my sides as she squeezes me in an embrace. Letting go with an arm still wrapped around my wrist, she pouts and I cringe at her overly bright smile.

What is she doing here?

The bouncy curls I associated with her have been straightened to give her a professional look. Her purple button-up shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt which fits snugly on her slender frame, showing the curve of her wide hips and tiny waist. The stilettoes on her feet elevate her to my height or an inch more, I yank my hand from her grip and frown.

Without meaning to, I pull my kimono tighter around myself to hide the plain mini gown I am wearing underneath. I should have worn a better dress. Sophia looks every bit of the medical practitioner Brandon claims she is, radiating beauty and elegance without revealing an extra inch of her body, unlike the last time we had that nasty rendezvous.

Seeing her in this simple but sexy outfit explains why he has troubles letting go of her. They fit, complexion and profession wise. Any sane man will want her in his corner.

The minx dares to giggle, I scoff. Balling my hands into a fist, I say, “Sophia.”

“El.”

Her bright smile will blind any man, force him to do her bidding. Maybe it has blinded Brandon because I don’t understand what she, a familiar stranger is doing in our house without my consent. My fingers itch to wipe that smug look off her face, I place both hands on my waist and try to stare her into wiping off that sick smile from her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

The height difference us, though little has my insides knotting in a frenzy, I need her out of here. Tempted to pull off my sneakers and smack her in the face like I wanted to the first time I saw her in his office, I scowl. If Brandon is absent, how did she get in here?

In a tired voice, I ask, “What do you want, Sophia?”

Sophia crosses her arms under her breasts, I catch a generous glimpse of creamy flesh in black lace bra through the top button she left undone. I gulp. My eyes flit to her face, my nostrils flare slightly at the confidence radiating off her. She has that sultry smile she had the day I was stupid enough to let horniness rule my judgement. I purse my lips when she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, willing her smile to fade.

Did she come here to seduce him? I shake my head, not on my watch. Not under my roof. I take a step towards her, she must have sensed the change in my mood because she edges backwards, fear flashes across her face and her smile transforms to a tiny scowl.

Good.

My foot drums into the ground, I arch my brows, my patience is fast wearing thin and I am a few seconds away from snapping. I am not one of those men from the BDSM world neither am I sick, I don’t need her help, so, I don’t have to tolerate her. I don’t want to.

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

I flinch internally at the harshness of my voice, never did I imagine I will be mean to my fellow woman because of my husband. A stupid man who isn’t worth any of my effort.

The glare I level her doesn’t faze her, her hand stretches to caress my cheeks and I slap it away. I can tell her confidence is back with the way her hip sways when she closes the distance between us and runs her tongue over her bow shaped lips. Her breath fans my face, I dig my fingers into my hip to stop from doing something stupid and irrational.

“I came here for you.” She winks. “I want you.” Anger flares inside me, my hands raise to slap, hit or shove her to the floor, I don’t know but Sophia laughs and her fingers circle my wrists. “I’m kidding, El.” Her pupils dilate, her voice lowers to a husky whisper as her lips inch closer to my ear to say, “Your husband will kill me if I touch you again.”

He better because I don’t want her around me, he should never have brought her home.

She pulls away, I let out a shaky breath. Her eyes take on a mischievous glint, I roll my eyes, hating how in charge she seems in my house. My discomfort must amuse her, she giggles and her hand goes over her mouth, exposing her manicured nails. She is perfect.

“El.” I stiffen, the familiarity in her tone has my defences rising. She bats lashes which looks too long to be real and too blonde to be artificial at me, I dig my nails into my hip. She is beautiful. “We got off on the wrong foot and I apologise. Can we be friends?”

Her lips part like those models on a lipstick commercial, I let out a long hiss and make to walk around her. Why must she look good? It will be easier to hate her if she’s ugly.

“Wait.” I should have continued walking but my brain listens to her command and I spin to send her a glare that causes her painted lips to turn downward. “I love your gown. You are glowing.” I grunt, if she’s trying to work her way into my panties with those compliments, she will have to try harder. “Real glowing, El, what’s the secret?”

With my hands akimbo and my foot tapping a staccato into the floor, I ask, “Did my husband put you up to this? Is this some kind of test to know if I’ll cheat on him?”

Her body trembles with laughter, she throws her head back and has a throaty laugh at my expense. For a split second, I let myself wonder what it will be like to be friends with her. Straightening up, she places an arm on my shoulder and I shrug it off. My eyebrows shoot up, awaiting her explanation as to what seems so funny about my question. At this point, I believe the worse of Brandon, he can do that. Or not. I don’t know. I don’t care.

“That was a good one, El. Think about it, we will make good friends.” No, never. Can you please leave now? Pressing two fingers to my temple, I frown and she smiles. “Speaking of husbands, when do you intend to break the news of your pregnancy to Brandon?”

The surprise on my face encourages her to cup my breasts briefly. Though her touch is nothing sensual, the brief contact has my arms trembling from fighting back the urge to strangle her. Or use the pointy end of her heels to make a dent on her forehead. How is she qualified to be a doctor if she breaks into people’s homes to wrongly diagnose them.

“Your breasts are bigger.” She trails a finger on the neckline of my gown, retracts her arm before I can smack it. “Brandon doesn’t like kids, you know. What will you do?”

My hand goes up to stop her from running her mouth and displaying fake concern, she can save it for Brandon. “First things first, Doctor Sophia, I’m not pregnant.” She cocks her head to the side, I throw my hands up, she doesn’t deserve anything from me but I find myself saying, “I am on my period which explains the bigger breasts. So save it.”

Her eyes widen when I wince after cupping my breasts to make my point. My nipples are sensitive, they usually are during my time of the month but it doesn’t support her claims. “You might be the doctor between us but I know how menstruation works.”

She offers me a pitiful smile. “Spotting, El, spotting. Heavy spotting.”

Taking a step away from her and hopefully, this useless conversation and empty house, she blocks my path. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, shaking my head to rid me of my violent thoughts. Why must they all test me? The accumulated anger from them is the reason I have gotten so aggressive over the last few weeks. Violence isn’t my style.

My eyelids flutter open, Sophia is staring at me with concern which I easily wave off as disguised horniness. I don’t trust her to care for anything but her selfish interests.

“I am hungry,” I start, “and in no mood for an argument with you.”

“Brandon still starves you?”

Yes. He starves me of everything a woman and a marriage deserves. His love, affection, even the littlest things like phone calls and texts to know how I have been faring in his one-month absence. But I don’t care anymore, he can choke on his coffee or one of his numerous dates with his many Paris vixens. I’ll do just fine alone like I have been doing.

“My marriage is none of your business. If you don’t get out of my way, I’ll eat you.”

She purrs, her arms stretch out to mimic a cat’s movements. “I’d like that, El. Eat me.”

Disgust pumps through me, hate fills my eyes when our gazes meet and she sobers up. The corners of my lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, I pat her shoulders and let my gaze wash over her one last time. We will never be friends. “Out of my way.”