Page 1 of The Sicilian's Obsession
Katima
Cold. Dark. Tight. My breaths came in pants as I woke in a small, enclosed space, folded over myself. Where was I?
I cried out, "Daddy?" He would never let me stay in this tiny prison. I was his princess and he protected me from the fire-breathing dragons. At least that was the story he told me every night before bed.
A deep voice growled, "Shut up."
The box shook and I shivered in fear. Muted voices trickled in from afar. I couldn't catch my breath. The tears falling from my face threatened to strangle me as they dripped onto my thighs. I sobbed, harder and harder, until a small light infiltrated in from above me. I tried to lift my tiny frame, but something kept me pushed down. I kicked out, my tiny muscles no match for the contraption I was stuck in
I panicked and started to scream, "Daddy!"
I woke with a jolt. The familiar glow of my nightlight gleamed in the distance of my bedroom. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand—5:00 am. Every night for as long as I could remember, I had the same recurring nightmare. I tried to ask my dad about it, but he just said I had an overactive imagination. Here I was, twenty-eight years old and still having nightmares, no friends to speak to, no family, except my dad. I grabbed my Avengers shorts and slipped them on. Then I padded barefoot downstairs. I got started on coffee. Dad was on another business trip, so it was just me, alone in this big house. Always alone. I grabbed my steaming cup of joe and headed out to the porch. The swing was my favorite place to sit and watch the sun rise in the distance. Pennsylvania had the most beautiful sunrises. I relaxed and let my mind wander, loneliness setting in. If I was a more outgoing person, maybe I would have friends, a tribe, people I could lean on—something. Not that my dad wasn't enough, he was just gone all the time. Of course, that was because he was CEO at Sweets Incorporated and trying to expand his empire. Dad wanted to leave something tangible for me when he died. Me? I didn't want the company. I just wanted my dad. I stayed on the porch, watching the sun rise high above the horizon. Then it was time to get to work. I went inside and hopped into the shower, washing away the sweat from a fitful night's sleep. I dampened my curls and squeezed conditioner through them then washed the rest of my body, leaving the conditioner in. My curls were dry, so I was going to throw them into a messy bun to keep them out of the way. I went through the rest of my routine, putting on a bare minimum of makeup. No one was going to see me anyway. I grabbed my Captain America shirt, a pair of old dark wash jeans, and my Chucks. I had nothing planned on my agenda for today, so there was no reason to dress to impress. The greatest blessing of being top scientist in your family's company was you could dress the way you wanted.
I rushed out to my Mercedes Benz with fifteen minutes to spare. I hit the Starbucks' drive thru, still surprised this small, sleepy town even had one. I scanned my badge at the lobby with only five minutes to spare. My PA, Rebecca, was already there, her foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor.
She griped, "You were supposed to be here earlier." I nodded my head in answer. She was always acting like she was my boss instead of the other way around. I still wasn't comfortable speaking in public. The only person I could hold an intellectual conversation with was my father.
Rebecca went on, "Your dad needs you to call him ASAP." She threw her golden locks in my face, causing me to sputter, waving my hand to get away from the strands. I headed into my office connected to the back end of my lab and dialed Dad.
He answered on the second ring, "Hey, pumpkin."
I murmured into the phone, "Hi, Daddy. What's up?" He sighed, which meant he was going to ask me to do something I was uncomfortable with.
"I've been traveling a lot lately, and you know I don't like leaving you alone. So, I came up with a solution." While he paused to gather his thoughts, I sat quietly, my mind racing over a mile a minute. Please, not anotherfriendshiplined by my father's money. Those are the worst.
"I hired a personal bodyguard to be with you 24/7. I'll be out of the country for a while and it would give me peace of mind if you were safe."
I whimpered into the phone. My anxiety was creeping up on me like a lost lover, stroking down my back. "I don't need a bodyguard, Daddy." My voice was small to my ears, weak, feeble. Damsel in distress at her finest.
"Katima, after losing your mother, you know I need eyes on you at all times."
Ugh, it was always the same guilt trip. My mother died when I was a baby, and it's always been just Dad and me.
"You're just being overprotective again, Daddy." If I could get him to see that there was no threat, then surely, he'd call off his hound.
"If I say you need it, then you need it, Katima. No more arguments."
I shut my mouth at his gruff bark. It wasn't like I even tried to really argue with him, but Daddy has always been a bulldog.
His tone softened. "Anyway, he'll be showing up at the lab to introduce himself. He'll have access to the company, and to make his job easier, he'll be staying at the house with you. Whatever he needs to make security better, give it to him."
I closed my eyes, letting out a deep, slow breath. I could already feel the migraine brewing. My hands were shaking. I hated meeting new people. Daddy knew this and chose to have me do it anyway. If I was normal, lived on my own, and didn't have these problems, I wouldn't have to deal with this.
"All right, Daddy." In the end, it's just easier to give him what he wants.
He tenderly said, "Love you, pumpkin."
"Love you too, Daddy." I really did. I just wished things were different, that I was different. A daughter he didn't need to watch out for, a daughter who was strong, resilient, a warrior, but I'm none of those things.
I gave myself some time to calm down after hanging up with my dad. No way did I want to face Rebecca in the middle of a panic attack. She would just make it worse. If she wasn't such a good personal assistant and sometimes research assistant, I would have replaced her years ago.
A short while later, I was back under control and in my element. Today, I was working on a few recipes with our crystallization method. I was my own taste tester, so I always used fudge as my base. If I was honest, I was addicted to our fudge. I couldn't get enough. Just as I was adding the first drops of liquified cayenne pepper and Gochujang, a Korean pepper paste I used to heighten spiciness, a tap sounded on the door. It swung open before I could say anything.
I snapped at the intruder, "Did you not see the freaking testing light flashing?" What was standing in front of me made the rest of my rant dry up in my throat. A tall man, dressed from head to toe in black, darkened the doorway. His bulging arms were lined with tattoos and I could see a few peeking out the top of his shirt collar. His combat boots were muddy. I already knew I was going to have to decontaminate my laboratory just from his mere presence. His dark fauxhawk had tapered sides and the top looked wet like he'd just stepped out of the shower. His dark tattoos were illuminated by his tanned skin, but it was his piercing green gaze that stopped me in my tracks. His eyes were hauntingly cold. My body started to shiver from their penetration.
I stuttered, "Wh-who a-are y-you?" My face scrunched up in a grimace upon hearing my own voice. I waited for his condescending attitude, or worse, his laughter. I could feel my face growing hot, waiting for his answer.
His voice was deep, with hints of an accent as he said, "Excuse me?"
My belly fluttered in excitement. I'm sure my face showed my confusion. I choked out, "N-no one is s-supposed to enter the l-lab while I'm t-t-testing." My embarrassment was plain as day now. The more I stuttered, the harder I shook, anxiety riding my body hard. I was panting, and pieces of my curly bun had fallen around my face from being distracted by the new recipe. Now they stuck to my face with sweat as I spiraled downward inwardly. My humiliation complete, I wished the floor would open and swallow me whole.
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