Steve had gotten up early in the morning. A routine. He always got up early to go to the gym. Since his working hours were from eight anti meridian, he got up by six to go gym, came back by seven, took twenty minutes to get ready and ten minutes to drive to the office, holding all factors constant.
It had gotten so used to him that he would do it even on days he wasn't going to work.
Like every other morning, he would come into his kitchen shirtless and drink coffee before going to the gym.
He was sitting in the kitchen, grooming coffee when Vivian came in the kitchen. She had a messy hair. Not a messy face, though.
"Coffee please," she said, sitting on the stool. She got lost looking at his virile body. She wondered which would taste more delicious: the coffee or him. Because, for goddamn sure, he was hotter than the coffee.
"Hey, your coffee." He snapped his fingers in front her face. "Are you a sleepwalker?" He asked her, sitting back down on the stool.
Vivian was embarrassed that Steve had caught her red-handed checking him out. But he was a turn-on. She wished she was a sleepwalker so she could walk right into his arms.
"You're up early." She changed the topic. "Why?" She gulped the coffee down to the middle of the cup.
"Routine," Steve replied. "What about you? Why are you up early?" He asked her, sipping his coffee.
"Nightmare," she said to him. "With everything that's happening right now, nightmare is the least shocking thing."
"What's happening, Vivian?" Steve asked her. He was going to use every opportunity he had to get answers from her. She brought that opportunity right into his house.
Vivian sighed. "I don't even know. What I know for damm sure is there are lot of things that are going to happen around here. Nasty, bloody things," she told him, observing him hiding he was mystified.
"Who is going to do all those things? There could be a way to stop that person," he stated encouragingly. He had asked her that same question yesterday.
First he had thought it was all about Rachael wedding. He had thought it was about getting revenge on Charles. But it was more than spoiling a wedding and blackmailing Charles.
She didn't know. How was she going to stop someome who she didn't even know. It was like fighting a ghost.
"You can't stop them, Steve. It's not a one-person operation. But one of them is part of your family, an immediate," she said to him, not really sure if her assumption was right. They had to be. "Who do you think doesn't approve of Rachael and Charles being together?"
They first person Steve thought about was himself. He was the only person who didn't approve of Charles marrying his sister. But Charles almost defeated him the second time.
Vivian was playing the mind game, Steve thought. He figured she didn't want to tell him directly. She wanted him to solve the puzzle himself. That way her stay in his house wouldn't be pointless. She wanted him to feel like he needed her, and not the other way round.
"I can't think about nobody else except myself," he told her honestly, thinking hard. "I'm the only person who express my dislike for their relationship."
"Exactly. I had thought you was one of them several times. I noticed it at the wedding. I had doubts about you. But I believe that the doers aren't expressing their dislike. Inner motives," she explained to him.
"Are you saying they're in an alliance? People have concrete reason to hate Charles." That was the only possible thing he could think about— group of people allying because they hated Charles, and didn't want him to marry Rachael; didn't want him to be happy.
"Rachael also. Joint hatred. Separate reasons. Someone hates Charles more than you do. Someone also hates Rachael. I have a strong feeling that both their enemies forged a union," she said to him.
"My sister doesn't have enemies. I'm sure of that." Steve sounded sure. She was giving him clues. She was telling him that the person she was working with also hated Rachael. But why?
He didn't want to show her that he was comprehending everything that she was saying. That way, she would always feel that he needed her. She would feel he was dumb.
"Don't be so sure. Even Jesus, a man who did nothing but good for people, had Enemies. Think about someone who could be your sister's enemy. Maybe someone she took Charles from. Think," she said, waiting for his memory to grab something.
Vivian needed his help more than he needed her help. She didn't know why she thought so. However, she believed that he could help her greatly. He was smart.
"Nobody like that," he told Vivian, getting down from the stool. "You work for them, don't you?" He stated, placing the mug in the sink. Rachael nodded. "How are you working for them if you don't know them?"
She knew that question would have come up. Steve was a smart man. He had his doubts about her. He just didn't tell her.
"Communication. They call me every damn place I go. I've broken so many sim cards, yet they still trace me. I've moved from in the public environments, and ended up in the woods, yet they still find me," she explained to him, sounding very frustrated.
"It's certain they're aware of your stay her, isn't it?" He asked her.
Vivian nodded. She hated the life that she was living at the moment. It didn't feel right. She felt like someone was controlling her motherfucking, goddamn life.
Steve headed for his room. He didn't want her to feel pressured. She needed to feel like the one in control. It was all about feelings. Feeling strong, safe, in control.
She continued drinking the coffee. The taste was the only thing that felt right in her life. She continued thinking if they still had the footage of her. If they were going to send them to her parents if she would go contrary to their plans. If that would happen, she would have not just cunning people following her around, she would have her entire race looking for her. Though she had converted, which many of them didn't know yet, they were still going to hunt her down.
The best thing to do when you have a problem is to solve a problem. And she was going to solve her problem.
She didn't have no reason for knowing who they were, but she didn't feel safe not knowing them either. What would she do if she'd find them? Kiss their asses? Nothing.
They would destroy her the moment they know she was off line. They were going to haunt her down and, guess what, they would set her on a gold throne and hail her. No, hard joke, they would wipe her spirit out of her body.
Steve came outside few minutes later. He had on tennis shoes and his grey jogging suit. He had his phone connected to a wireless earbud. He wore only one in his right ear.
"Where are you going?" She asked him.
"Met Gala," he retorted, smirking. "You have eyes, Vivian, use them." He didn't sound harsh or rude or mean. Jovial. He put his phone on the kitchen table and went to fetch himself a bottle of water.
"I also have legs that I am going to surely use on your balls." She made a straight face. A face that Steve couldn't guess if she was angry, sad, or she was going to burst out laughing. He remained frozen.
"Where's you sense of humor, mate?" She asked him, breaking a smile. "You looked so pail. I was just joking, OK?"
"OK. Nice joke," he faked a humorously fake smile. He drank the water and put the bottle back in the fridge. "I'll be out now. Take care of yourself." He then walked to her.
In a normal situation— a situation of a couple— the man would place a kiss on the woman's lips before going to jog. The kiss could be soft, hard, rough, snappy and so many things. But it was for a situation of a couple only.
For a moment she froze, watched him come closer to her. He was just, too, close enough when he took his phone from the table and waved it like a flag in front her face. His expression said: I was just getting this. Hers said: the hell was that all about?
She followed him to the living room, watched him leave the house and run down to the gate, then outside. She closed the curtain and sat in the chair, feeling spent. She still needed that good sex. She had had the other good things she wished for.
Vivian relaxed her head on the chair. She closed her eyes, sighed, and pushed herself from in the couch. She was walking back into the kitchen to make something for breakfast when the doorbell rang. She turned around, annoyed.
"What have you forgotten again, asshole?" She stated, annoyed, walking back to the door.
Steve could be childish when he wanted to. He had flirted with her all morning. Now he was annoying her by knocking on his own front door. Seemed like he wanted her to feel at home.
"What have you forgotten ass...." She froze when she opened the door and spotted the two people standing at the door. "Shit," she murmured.