Chapter 3

EMMA

I’ve been barely a week from home and I can feel my life falling apart already. I am used to everything being laid out for me, I had people carrying my bags, a chauffeur to drive me around and basically everything I needed but the moment I decided to run away from my father, all that ended. For the first time, I flew in economy, everything was going fine until a lady’s baby next to me threw up on me.  I flagged a random taxi at the airport and that was the worst ride of my life, his driving was reckless and he played really loud music even when I asked him not to. He demanded a tip and insisted that he wasn’t going to let go of my boxes until I did as he asked. We tussled a bit with the box and honestly, I don’t even know what I was thinking that moment, arguing with him, he was literally thrice my size. Anyway, he pushed the box and it hit the curb and broke. All my clothes were now covered in dirt which means I’ll probably spend the rest of my week doing laundry. What a perfect start to a new life, I held back my tears as I picked up the clothes. It was too late to go back home, I’ll have to learn to do things on my own without the help of my father or his influence.           I smiled as my neighbor placed my boxes on my porch, he was tall and powerful and handsome, I mean very handsome. His muscles flexed as he lifted my box, he was just like one of those men I read about in my romance novels. His hair was as dark as midnight and they matched his eyes, they reminded me of something dangerous but as a daughter of a mafia boss, there was nothing I was scared of. I saw a peek of his tattoo when he stretched, I wondered what drawings he had. My mama won’t approve of him when I tell her that he’s my neighbor. She hated bad boys which I think is quite funny, coming from someone who ended up with a bad boy.

“How can I repay you?” I ask with a tired but bright smile. “You can come in for a cup of tea”

He grunted.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. I’ve had a very rough day”

I wish he’ll say something, anything. I hate that I can’t exactly read his thoughts. As a journalist, I was good at picking up different emotions but so far I could only detect irritation.

I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it over to him but shook his head and began to walk away. I wanted to call after him but decided not to, he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, especially not after I had embarrassed myself out there. I shut the door behind me and lean on it. Had he maybe seen my thong when it fell out of the box? Now, I have a neighbor who has seen my thong and probably thinks I’m annoying. I feel heat rise to my cheeks, this was one of the worst ways to meet my stunning neighbor. I realized he didn’t tell me his name or maybe he didn’t want to.

I slumped into the couch and took in the beauty of the house, this felt more like a home than my father’s house. My fathers house had a guard by each door, the walls were pristine white just as he liked it, he wasn’t a fan of many colors so mama left everything plain. Here, the chairs were old but neat and cozy, there were pictures of my mother in her youth hung up on the wall and a fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the center table. Before I arrived, she sent a local to deep clean the house and stock up on groceries that I may need.

It was only a matter of time before my father found me and dragged me all the way home, his power and influence reached every corner of the universe. I pulled out my phone and texted mama to let her know that I was safe. I want to ask how my papa was but I feel too emotional. I was hoping he would not worry himself sick about me, maybe in another life, he’d have a son who would take over and do his bidding.

There was enough time to unpack so I decided to pick a room. There were three bedrooms, so I immediately decided to go with my mother’s room. Sleeping in the same bed where she slept comforted me. I emptied my work bag on the bed and began sorting out the papers. I know it was unusual that I was already working when I just got here but it was the only way I could take my mind off things and let go. I had a couple of cases I was working on before I left, unfortunately I’d have to drop them. My recent case was given to me by my father, his aide was murdered about a year ago, he had a prime suspect although the suspect wasn’t arrested yet. He asked me to help with investigations and write a story on it.     I had gotten some newspapers that covered the story but I didn’t have the chance to read it or even go through details of the murder. I shove them into a compartment of my bedside table. I was going to look at them some other time. This is a new phase of my life, I don’t want to dwell on the past.