Zemira

"Is this what you need?" Kiera asked, strapping my baggage in place, but I knew she wasn't talking about packing. Her stare made me drop my gaze at my suitcases.

"No. You know what I needed was..." The statement dried up in my mouth.

How was I supposed to tell a woman struggling with her own identity that my own was collapsing as well. 

My dream of a marriage - a content life with Tag - would remain a dream. So when the wants of my life disappeared along with Tag, I focused on the needs. Securing my company in these tremulous times was my only remaining aspiration.

"What is it? Tell me." Kiera probed me to divulge further. Her smile diminished and so did the color of her tanned skin.

I shrugged, my mouth flinching in response. "What I need from you is help in packing, not chatting."

"Fine. Keep your secrets." Kiera rolled her eyes and tossed me a look. "But at least tell me how he was the first time?"

There wasn't much I hid from Kiera. For her, my life was an open book, the pages of which she loved flipping through.

Had we been gabbing about our lives over brunch, I would have narrated everything. That night that reduced Leo and me to nothing more than tangled limbs and freed souls, or the after when we silently drowned in each other's eyes till sleep took over.

A younger version of me had the option of dreaming but my grown-up version had a mission to accomplish. Gulping water to ease my dry mouth, I pointed at my clothes.

"Grrr, why am I helping you for free?" Kiera muttered under her breath, annoyed at my non-disclosure.

"Because you love me and want me to be happy."

I dropped beside her on my bed, holding onto her tight. My bedroom held so many of our happy memories right from the time we were kids, to grown up who talked about boys was also the same room where Kiera first told me about her sexuality.

Today, this room stood a testament to how I tried hiding what I felt. A part of me tried convincing me I was doing it right, that my business needed this. Another scared part of me felt guilty, that I was betraying Tag by moving into a man's apartment.

"That's always been my problem, Goldilocks," Kiera huffed, tossing more clothes into the suitcase. "I think I should stop playing your mother."

"Don't even try." I pouted dramatically before helping her with the task.

By mid-morning, my belongings were all packed. Kiera drove me after I lost a debate with her regarding the question of whether I required a bodyguard.

I picked up my phone, clicking open the news app. The week since Leo's declaration had passed in a blur. Having spent the entire week avoiding the gossip, I decided it was time to check up.

"Don't read that." Kiera snatched the phone and tossed it into the back of the car.

"Hey..." I turned to her, unbuckling my seatbelt while she parked in the designated spot for Leo's visitors. "How bad could it be?"

Kiera's silence answered.

The rest of the drive, Kiera told me about how her father was pissing her off by forcing her to sign up for deals she didn't agree to. Her only solace was her husband Jake who always looked out for her. Sadly, while Jake loved her, poor Kiera could only treat him as a friend.

When we parked in the basement of Leo's apartment, Kiera pulled out her phone and texted someone. I sat inside, watching the rows of luxury cars around me, depicting the status of the residents who would live here.

"We can go in now," Kiera said, sliding her phone into her pocket and moving out of the car. "There's no one outside. The press is taken care of."

I followed Kiera as she checked the directions leading to the elevator to the lobby of the building.

Our stealthy entrance into the grand, gold and black aesthetic lobby was unsuccessful. The atrium brimmed with people and shimmered brighter with camera flashes.

A smile, a hand wave, and a few selfies—I followed the protocol.

"I have the elevator pass to Leo's apartment. Use it." Kiera eyes the crown standing in front of us, slipping the card into my palm. "I'll get someone for the luggage and someone else..." She checked her phone. "...To manage the crowd."

"Don't leave me," I whispered but it was already too late.

Kiera slipped into the crowd and moved with such speed, it would have put comic superheroes to shame.

Aware that some local cable must have released my move-in news, I found myself swiping the card near the elevator slot in panic, trying to cut off the ear-shattering screams of my name.

The elevator rose with a quiet rumble, the doors opening up into the interior of a well-lit penthouse.

With nobody to welcome me at the entrance, I walked in.

My eyes absorbed the view, from the floors and walls to the far end of a long hallway. The marble floors were pristine white, as were the walls. A few gray seaters went well with a simple glass tabletop. A couple of minimalist paintings with bold strokes of gold and red hung near the kitchen area opposite to where I stood.

The long glass panes held the scenic view of the serene, turquoise ocean, stretching across an infinite distance.

"Hello."

I turned to the voice.

A lady in a gray dress and bobbed hair walked over. I recollected her image from the back of my mind, having seen her at a few Brenton family interviews. Rachel Brenton—the kindest of all.

"Hello, ma'am."

I extended my hand, the gesture invoking a frown. After a second of apparent apprehension, she threw out her arms, inviting me into her hold.

Ahh, a hugger.

"You can call me Rachel or Mama if Leo puts you up to it. But no ma'am. Never ma'am." The vehemence of her command made me wonder why she detested that reference. but her lingering embrace made me forget my curiosity.

Something about the warmth of her embrace and the way she patted the back of my head like she already knew I needed comfort made me not want to leave her hold.

She reminded me of my mother. With this small gesture, she embodied my mother's way of comforting me whenever I felt overwhelmed.

Rachel Brenton had never been a face for the news channels.

She was a homely woman who kept to herself and her children. In an attention-whoring world, if a celebrity didn't churn up gossip, they would die from people's memory. Mrs. Brenton met the same fate.

"Stop hogging my mother." A husky voice echoed from the corner before Leo made his appearance. I had to reluctantly part from the hug—an oasis of calm and peace.

"Is this the way to talk to your guest, Leo?"

Rachel's words were a slap of reality. I was a guest, waiting for the accord to be fulfilled.

Why was I getting carried away by sentiments?

The elevator chimed open behind me. Kiera appeared with my suitcases. Quickly dragging it inside, she heaved as if she carried them over her shoulders.

"Those people outside are crazy. The security I called wasn't helpful," she said, wiping her forehead. "A man was taking my photos. I'd have shoved his phone up his–"

"Everyone, this is my friend, Kiera." I grabbed her elbow, pulling her closer.

Every eye remained glued to her while Kiera realized that we were not alone in the room.

"Best friend," she added.

"Hello, dear." Rachel moved forward, welcoming her with a handshake. "It's so nice of you to come. I'm sure Zemira is grateful for the help getting settled in, and I just hope everything is in accordance with her liking." She turned, eying Leo before facing us. "If there's anything else that's needed, you tell me, okay?"

We both nodded, watching Rachel stare a hole in the wall as if she was trying to recall something important. She clicked her fingers and pointed at her son.

"Oh, Leo, please introduce Zemira to the house staff."

With a soft pat on my cheek, Rachel squeezed my hand and walked me to the entrance of the elevator. After pressing the light encircled button, she cupped my face in her palms, sighing.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, worried that I'd failed to make a good impression, but her kind smile told me that wasn't the issue. "You want to tell me something?"

"Take care," she said, her lips remaining part for the next set of words that never emerged.

"I will..."

She entered the elevator, offering a soft smiled farewell that knotted my stomach. The steel doors closed on that sight.

After Rachel left, I walked back inside and sat near the kitchen counter while Kiera explored every corner of the place.

Leo, who sat at the opposite end of the counter, leaned over to whisper.

"What's she doing?" His narrowed gaze stalked her, brows furrowed.

"Scoping the area, I guess, to see if you've got something nasty going on in here," I said. Leo placed his elbows on the counter, propping his chin on a fist.

"So Kiera's your sniffer dog?"

"Oh, she is a lethal bloodhound."

"Hmm." He slipped off his stool. "I better go hide my porn stash before she gets to it."

My teeth dug into my lower lip, and I suppressed a peal of laughter as he tiptoed behind Kiera.

After a while, both reemerged from a room at the farthest end, giggling like teenagers. Since the time I'd told her about Leo, hiding the truth about our first night, she'd always favored him over Antonio.

That was till the press conference debacle. Since then, Kiera was hungry for Leonardo Brenton's blood.

Though I didn't know what exactly had transpired between them inside the room, it wasn't hard to figure out that Leo had won over my friend.

With her purse slung over the crook of her arm, Kiera placed kisses on Leonardo's cheeks and they both walked towards the elevator.

I walked behind them, unaware if they were intentionally ignoring me or if it was a part of their plan.

"I'll see you soon," she said and pressed the button to call the elevator.

"Not if I see you first," he said in a retort that made her roll her eyes.

"Helloooo..." I called out, annoyed. Kiera smacked her forehead and walked back, kissing my face wet. "Really?" I swiped at my cheek with my sleeve. "One minute with him and you forgot about me?"

"I'm quite charming," Leo countered, shrugging and sliding his hands inside his jeans pockets.

"He is," Kiera agreed, grinning at him. "Very charming, indeed."

"Traitor," I whispered, wrinkling my nose at her.

After the elevator closed behind Kiera, Leo turned to me.

"You sure she's a lesbian?" With a crooked smile, he walked back inside to the kitchen island. "It seemed like she was into me."

"Oh, according to you, the whole world is into you," I stood on the opposite side, tossing some almonds at him from a bowl.

The décor of the place and the small snack servings all hinted at Rachel. She must have primped the place before I came.

"Trust me on this, Zem Zem." Leo slid the bowl out of my reach. When I twisted my mouth, he straightened. "Are you seriously mocking me in my own house?

"I thought this was our house." Batting my eyelids and deliberately widening my eyes, I walked closer. "Isn't it so?"

"Anime eyes don't work with me."

"Well then, good for you..." I said, hearing a rumbling noise emerging from the back of his throat as he wiped his red face. "Tour of the place?"

"Yes," Leo cleared his throat and straightened his back. "That's my bedroom," he pointed towards a door that stood ajar, closer to the kitchen. "That's yours." His head tilted towards the room where Leo and Kiera went a while ago. "Then there is the open terrace upstairs and this is the hall." He rushed through the place, his steps speeding up with his words. Looking around the whole area, he nodded to himself like he was ticking off a mental checklist.

"Oh, and that's the ocean view," he said, pointing towards the long row of windowpanes.

"So kind of you, sir."

I walked back to my luggage. When I tried pulling them, Leo's calloused hands slid over mine.

I relinquished my hold and watched him carry them, one in each arm as if they were filled with feathers. I trotted behind, watching his muscles flex through his flimsy white shirt while he placed them in a corner.

"Anything else?" His voice drew my attention from his arms up to his face. I gulped down the warm sensation at the back of my throat, nodding.

"Nope. I can take care of the unpacking part."

With a nod, he walked away, leaving me stranded in the aftermath of his musky cologne. All I could do was smile, watching him walk away.

My designated room was fancier than I'd imagined. The shower to the left had a jacuzzi and a separate sauna room. The rest of the bathroom was large enough for me to play golf.

The walk-in closets adjacent to the washroom were huge. With a chandelier hanging in the middle of it, and glass panel closet doors with silent slide technology, the room felt more luxurious than the costliest hotel suit I have had the privilege to live in.

My peripheral vision saw a corner room too but the tiredness of the day was already convincing me to move back to the bedroom.

The queen size bed and the minimalist decors, small vases with white orchids and a large wall-mounted television were the last few things I saw before falling onto the comfort of the bed.

Sleep took over almost instantly. It wasn't until the evening that I woke to the serene surroundings of my new bedroom, gazing out the massive window at the lowering sunlight on the horizon.

I fetched my phone. Leo's message – Tell me when you are free – was at the top of my unread messages.

I texted him back – Now I'm free.

A knock on the door jolted me upright. Leo entered, a stack of paper in one hand and a weird greenish concoction in another.

Placing them on the table at the entrance of the room, he walked in.

"You didn't unpack?" His eyes narrowed to slits, staring at my bags. "Why?"

"I hate unpacking or packing, for that matter. I'll probably just live out of my bags for months."

Without wasting a second, he selected one of my bags, laying it down, clicking his tongue.

"Such an entitled child." His mock disapproval was soft, yet intimidating. "How can a grown woman still be dependent on others for something so simple?"

"It's not dependency. I can do it, I just detest it." I shrugged, ignoring the flutter of my internal organs every time I talked to him. "I'm procrastinating."

I knew I wasn't making a strong case for my laziness, but in my defense I had just awoken. Luckily, Leo didn't bother challenging me for a verbal spar. His attention was fixed on the task at hand.

Leo knelt, carefully opening several panels of the bag. His eyes scanned each item while his thumb tracked the corner of his jaw.

"Where do I even begin?" he asked himself, looking up at me for directions to navigate the labyrinth that was a woman's bag. "I don't understand... What are these tiny bottles for? Are you secretly into alchemy?"

Laughing, I peeled my body off the comfortable mattress, dipping my feet into the plush carpet. My packing was a two-person job. So was the unpacking.

"Oh god, don't tell me you'll be cooking meth in here," he said. "Or something worse."

"You got it right on the second attempt." I grabbed my vanity bag and my purses. "We are going to be Breaking Bad in here."

"Breaking what?" Leo turned around, scratching the back of his neck and reading the labels of my skincare. "You're talking in an alien language right now."

"It's a show, Leo," I said, handing him my stilettos for the shoe rack inside the walk-in closet. "A chemistry professor cooks up meth to help secure his family after being diagnosed with cancer, but—"

"Wow."

I heard Leo's subdued voice from inside the closet. Assuming he found the plot interesting, I decided to propose a binge night. Then he reemerged, still holding my footwear.

"How do you walk in these?"

Men and their endless fascination with a woman's ability to walk in heels...

"Hey, what're these papers?" I diverted the topic, pointing towards the fluttering sheets. My helper needed a distraction.

"Oh, I forgot." He picked them up, tossing them on the bed. "Sign it. I already have. It's pretty standard."

"What is it, though?" I scanned the bold words on the front page. "Shared publicity agreement between Leonardo B. and Zemira Ford."

Regardless of our deal, I wasn't made aware of any non-disclosure agreement that required signing.

Leonardo was being practical about it. He glanced at the stack like those inked words meant nothing to him. Like the arrangement was a covert operation, a mission to rescue my business under cover of darkness before the team was disbanded in the morning.

The man who, a week ago, had taken a bullet with my name upon himself, disappeared behind the stoic man who sat near my belongings.

Pretense. 

Finally, understanding struck me like lightning. While Antonio had never asked for my signature, he too expected me to abide by the unspoken rules. Leonardo Brenton wasn't any different from his brother.

I scribbled my signature on all documents, tossing them back to him. "Leave the rest," I said, suppressing the bitter taste of my words and averting my gaze. "I'll take it from here. Thank you for your help."

Leo stood and for a few moments didn't utter a word, like my acceptance of his terms was surprising.

Knocked back to my senses from the rosy cloudy I fluttered in, I accepted the reality of our deal. Ours wasn't a long-standing relationship. In one year, everything except our businesses would fall back into its previous state of affairs.

Though his mélange eyes surveyed every inch of my skin, I remained unstirred. It would be a dangerous path I would be heading down to care for Leo's feelings.

"Sure about that?" he asked, picking up the papers and checking my signature. I looked away, reminding myself of the arrangement.

"I'm sure."

~

Some unspoken words and some undone deeds rift lives.