Page 53 of Mila: The Godfather

My pulse starts to pick up when I move closer to the white bookshelf, which holds various books, and that’s putting it lightly. Every shelf holds at least ten to fifteen books, while others are decorated with crystals like the ones I have at home and even a few cactuses. Ones that look just like Mr. Prickles.

Touching one of the books, I check out the cover and beam when I realize these are all some of the stories that I’ve yet to read and have marked as to be read on my digital book library app.

This is not only my dream room but every bookworm’s dream too.

But how?

Who do these belong to? I don’t see Riagan as the type of man who enjoys romantic fiction.

Do these books belong to a sister of his, perhaps?

A girlfriend? Why does the thought of the giant man having a girlfriend leaves a bitter taste in my mouth?

Now I’m curious and won’t be able to think about anything else until I get answers. I have so many questions. Many that I didn’t get to ask yesterday. I’ll ask them today, but first, a shower. Sniffing my clothes, I scrunch my nose up. I won’t be able to carry on with the day until I get rid of these dirty clothes.

Stepping away from the bookshelf, I patter toward the bathroom. Turning the light on, the first thing that I see is the white marble tub mounted in the center beside a freestanding rainforest shower. There are two vanity mirrors, white towels, and two white robes. Frowning, I realize this is a couple’s bathroom because why two of everything? How odd.

I’ll add it to my long list of questions to the man that brought me here. But first, a shower, yes.

I spend exactly fifteen minutes there, not only scrubbing my skin to get rid of the pesky microorganisms but washing my hair with coconut-vanilla shampoo.

Wrapping a towel around my body once I’m done, I step back into the room.

The room is quiet. Secluded. But I’m used to it. I’m more comfortable in silence than I am around noise.

I move to my left, there is what looks to be a walk-in closet. Moving through it, I flick on the light to find not only clothes but shoes as well. Who are these? I wonder. I can’t wear other people’s clothes. It is not sanitary. Besides, there is the fact that it is rude to just put something on that does not belong to you but, to my dismay, I’ll have to forget about that and find something to wear. I grab the first thing I see that looks my size.

When I am done getting dressed, I take in my appearance.

Yellow sundress with thin spaghetti straps. Not too loose but fitted enough to show the curve of my hips. My wet hair falls over my shoulders while my face appears far too calm. Then an image of me trapped between Riagan’s bare chest and a door comes to the forefront of my mind. Was it a dream? I am not sure anymore. What I’m sure of is the anxious feelings swirling in my stomach all of a sudden. I’ve been trying to keep the man out of my mind because there is no doubt in me that if he remains there for too long, he could make room for himself. As in a permanent one, and that can’t happen.

A feeling I can’t quite put a name to courses through me, and I find myself looking behind me toward the bed, and when I do, my eyes land on an item that reminds me of home.

Deja-Vu. Is it? The feeling of having already dreamed something that is currently being experienced.

The dream catcher.

The lovely dream catcher hanging from the bedpost.

“Here, stelina. This will catch all your dreams and fight off the nightmares.” The memory of a ten-year-old Kadra flashes through my mind as she gave me my very first dreamcatcher. She swore the item made of lace doily and wood macramé would keep the monsters away. I didn’t believe it, not really. My logical mind wouldn’t allow me to accept that a common object had the power to catch dreams, but I never told her that. No. I placed the pretty dream catcher next to my bed, and I did the same with all the others she brought me after that.

“Kadra…” How did I forget about her? She must be going out of her mind and most likely burning the city down trying to find me. I want her to be safe. I don’t want her to worry about me while she’s dealing with her demons, and sadly, she has plenty of those. Riagan’s words also flash through my mind. He said she messed with a very important family. Is she at war? Was I unintentionally getting in the way of her finally putting her demons to rest? I don’t know. All I know is that I need to let her know I’m alright so she doesn’t worry.

Sighing, I slip my feet into white sandals that I grabbed from the closet and walk towards the bedroom door. My fingers flex around the knob. “You can do this, Mila. For Kadra. For yourself.” I whisper out loud before making my way out of the room.

Here goes nothing.

Hopefully, I won’t get chopped up into tiny pieces and fed to the pretty fishes of the sea.

Hopefully…

* * *

I’m slowly walking down the stairwell while nervously raking my fingers through my now-wet hair. Somehow, this all feels more real today.

The orange hue of the sunset comes through the glass windows, illuminating the house and letting me know that I, indeed, slept like the dead. It’s sundown… again. As I walk down the staircase, I take in everything around me. A modern design that could be showcased in countless luxurious magazines greets me once my feet touch the marble-white floor.

The living room area.

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