Page 13 of Forbidden Fruit

“Look at me,anghjulu.”

His baby blue eyes meet mine, full of fat tears. His face is blotchy from crying and I want nothing more than to hold him, but he hasn’t initiated contact yet. I’m still a stranger. It’s my responsibility to protect him and I can give him reassurance and prove it every day.

“I’ll always come for you. And if I cannot come for whatever reason, it will be your dad, and your mum when she gets back. And I will always be on time from now on.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, buddy, I promise. Now, will you let me dry your tears so we can go home, watch a cartoon and make some dinner?”

He nods and I lift my hand to wipe his tears away, my heart growing fuller as he lets me comfort him ever so slightly.

“Did you bring snacks?” he suddenly asks, and I burst out laughing. Trust kids to lighten the mood unwillingly.

“Yes, buddy. But only fruit. If you want the brownie I made, we’ll have to walk home, and fast.”

The promise of chocolate cake works its magic. On the way back, Anton talks animatedly about his day while Livia tells him what we were up to. Half her words aren’t really words, but it looks like Anton understands. His attention never strays from her when she speaks. It’s beautiful to witness and I wish I had a sibling I could lean on. I hope they never lose this connection.

When Mr Marquesi comes back at six, on the dot, both kids are showered and playing in the living room while I skim through the folder their father made me. I didn’t have time to look at it all day, but it seems to mostly consist of quirks and specific knowledge about Anton and Livia’s personalities I’d rather discover by myself. I know it’s best if I read it just in case there’s information in there that’s important, like allergies, but the level of detail reminds me how impassive and serious the man of the house appears to be. It almost feels like I imagined the sheepish look he gave me.

“Welcome back, Mr Marquesi,” I stand up and greet him as he enters the room.

“Thank you, Miss Winfrey.”

With steady strides, he walks to me until he towers over me and guides me to the side of the room with a hand on my elbow. The touch isn’t aggressive, but the unspoken command is there, nonetheless. My stomach jolts and I have no clue why.

“Anything I should be aware of?” he asks curtly, and I frown. His coldness threatens to have me desperate to make him happy.

I had a tendency to do that when I was young and my aunt was in a foul mood. I promised myself I’d catch myself if it ever happened in the real world. And that’s not my role here. I’m not here to make him happy; I’m here to take care of his children.

I take a deep breath before recounting the events of the day and the incident at school pick up.

It’s subtle, but the shift in his grey eyes almost has me taking a step back. They turn anthracite, almost taking on a thunderous quality.

“Let me make myself clear, Miss Winfrey.” His voice is icy and chills my blood. “This is the only mistake you will be allowed to make. If anything remotely similar happens again, I will have no qualms in making your life on Kalliste very difficult. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” A shiver makes its way up my spine and I swallow the need to call him out on his shitty behaviour. “It won’t happen again.”

“Of course it won’t.”

His phone chimes, and he takes it from his pocket, glancing down at the screen before dismissing me without looking at me again. “Your cab is here. Good evening.”

So much for asking for rent money.

Defeated and feeling like shit, I say goodbye to Anton and Livia, who remain oblivious to what’s just happened betweentheir father and me, and leave the house. I hope that tomorrow, Mr Marquesi will be in a better mood and I can try again.

But more than the fear of being evicted, it’s the feeling of having disappointed him, even if he acted like a dick, that settles in my stomach like lead and keeps me up for most of the night.

EIGHT

GET A GRIP, YOUR BOSS REALLY IS A JERK

I’m bright and on time on my second day of work, ready to ask for what I need when I almost clash with Mr Marquesi’s hard body as he walks out of the house. His hands land on my biceps to steady me, heat emanating from him sinks into me despite the layers of clothing separating us.

His cologne invades my nostrils, the vanilla and sandalwood mix fit him so perfectly. It’s refined and complex—not at all what I would expect from a man who barely speaks. I guess it speaks for him; it says, “I don’t need words to occupy a space.”

“I’m due for a meeting, Miss Winfrey. Please take Anton to school. He’s waiting for you in the living room with Livia. You’ll need to leave in five minutes to make it on time.Do notbe late again.”

The threat gives me whiplash and he leaves without giving me time to answer or get my bearings.Get a grip, Vanessa. This man is an asshole.

---