𝐋𝐢𝐚

Everyone has a story to tell. Whether privileged or not. Everyone born under the sun will have a story. The family in which I was born was no different. Today we will hold our first meeting as children of men whose legacy we are meant to carry.

If I could avoid it, I would have, but I was one of the eldest, it was my duty to be there.

I watched the moon shine brightly, its lights emitting into the room with a glare that lit the room; I walked around without switching the lights. I couldn't sleep because I kept thinking of how Luca would finally come into this house—my sanctuary—a place with no memories of his, no ghost of his presence to chase me. After three years of dodging him, it was time.

It was not easy, mainly because we would both be home for the holidays. But if he could do it for six years, I figured I could try it too. It had worked, not without him bombarding me for meetings and alone time, which I had either turned down or picked up the phone and spoke like a family member instead of the girl who'd been in love with him almost ten years ago.

Now we were twenty-three. I can believe it; time indeed flies. I still haven't come to terms with Luca coming into this house even though he has a bedroom. It's one of the many reasons why I cannot stop completely loving him, his respect for me. This was a family house, everyone had a room, but Luc wouldn't force himself in my space without my consent.

Damn Zion, if it weren't for him, Luca wouldn't have had a reason for this meeting. I thought, walking down the stairs with an afghan wrapped around me. It was a chilly night, but I didn't feel like closing the binds; my house was secluded, so I did not have neighbors within a few miles radius. My father said it was a security measure.

Standing by the window, I watched as the night slowly died away, the first sign of light appearing from the beautiful blue sky, yet I stood still, unable to walk away until my legs started cramping. The unease surrounding my heart grew; the butterflies in my stomach refused to settle and kept moving around as if in fright.

I left the window to go back to the bedroom to try to get at least a few hours of sleep until my family descended on me like a bad case of flu. I loved them, immensely so. However, this felt like it would open another chapter in my life, one I was beginning to feel I couldn't run from anymore. I thought the same when he had an accident, yet this was different.

It was time to have it out.

Entering my bedroom, I was struck by the golden glow of the sun emerging from the horizon, the beauty calling upon me with a promise of a great day.

Putting the afghan on a small bedroom chair near the window, I slid off the black satin nightgown I wore, threw it on the same chair, and slid under the comforter, cussing loudly when my brain started imagining fake scenarios instead of sleeping.

It has been years since Luc, and I had a thing, yet my mind always goes back to when we were fourteen, young, in love, and in friendship, if that was a thing; now we were more strangers than friends, except every time we were in the same room, a shimmering buzz pulled us together, but we have managed, albeit barely, to resist it.

Damn and double damn! I shouted when I still couldn't shut my brain long enough to fall asleep. Throwing my comforter off my body, I got off the bed with annoyance, picked up my robe again, and walked out. The devil must be sitting somewhere in that room clapping his evil hands, celebrating the fact that I was so burdened I couldn't sleep.

I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of ginger tea; if I was to stay awake waiting for them, I needed my favorite morning drink. Once I was done cooking, I poured it into a big grey mug and carried it to the balcony. There, I sat down, raising my head to feel the glint of sunlight.

Sitting in silence, with both hands grasping the cup of tea, I heard a noise, Serena's voice breaking through my brain. Wasn't it too early for her to be here at this hour from london? I asked myself, standing up to run to her.

"Lia," she shouted, her tone filled with playfulness, having succeeded in surprising me.

"Yes," I shouted back as I passed the kitchen, down the hall leading to the entrance. The platter of my slippers-fitted feet sounded louder than they should have.

There she was, my favorite girl in the world, bathed in the morning sunshine, looking like a runway model in blue jeans, a white shirt, a slim brown wool coat, and brown stiletto heels.

I run into her arms, the impact of my body almost stumbling both of us right there at the entrance.

"You're early," I said, laughing, kissing her on the cheeks. She smelled of lavender and mint.

"I know. Zion picked me up," she said as I pulled her further into the house.

"Zion is here? Where?" I could feel anger rising from my throat, craning my neck to see whether he was hiding somewhere by the door.

"He is not here. He left with Russo after dropping me off."

Russo was Serena's bodyguard. He was a big man with tattoos all over his body, a heart of gold, and a mean streak. A bodyguard was a requirement once we moved out of home, a non-negotiable with our parents, especially our mothers. They kept panicking that our father's past and present might come back and do more than bite us, but their husbands, our fathers, said they had everything under control. It was a way to assure them, but behind our mother's backs, they had a tight security on us. Those we could see and were familiar with and those we couldn't.

Serena was currently based in London pursuing fashion design. She had that sophisticated, chic fashion sense, just like mom.

"Is he remorseful?" Serena shrugged, squeezing my hand and looking at me with sympathy. She knew why I was dreading this meeting, and I would have plotted Zion's murder by now if I didn't love him so much.

"I didn't ask. I'm angry with him as you are." I didn't ask why she was mad, but I promised myself I would ask later. Serena dropped my hand when we reached the stairs, carrying her leather Christian Dior traveling bag to her bedroom—another of our parent's plans. This house was big enough to accommodate all of us, just as Serena's London house was.

It was as if we would never be free from our parent's control, not that it was a bad thing; we are not regular folks. We are heirs to secrets, a legacy built on blood, and an inexhaustible amount of money people would kill to get.  Luckily, or perhaps by design, we are each other's best friends. Our parents must have planned this to a t when they decided to build our home. It was a calculated move because they must have factored in we would grow up to want friends. How much more convenient would it be to give birth to children of the same age bracket?

All the kids apart from Luc and I, since I was a surprise to my parents, were born strategically within the same age gap. The universe must have aligned this perfectly to suit us while our parents leaned back, smirked, and said checkmate.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart; how about we nap until everyone gets here?" That was a good idea, maybe sharing a bed with Serena might help me get that fucking melatonin I need to sleep.

"That's a good idea," I told her, feeling better that she was here first. I needed her to help me rehash how to behave around Luca.

"I know we have gone through this speech multiple times, but I need a reminder," I said, pushing her luggage inside the room, the fragrance of softener and clean linen stopping me temporarily to soak it in. The cleaning company had done fantastic with the whole house; the caterers were expected to be coming at around 10 am to cook both dinner and lunch, and then all of us will cook from tomorrow onwards.

"I know," Serena said, putting her tote bag on top of the bed and then taking the suitcase and the duffle bag from where I had placed them and then disappeared through the walk-in closet to hang her clothes. She hated leaving clothes in the suitcase in case they got wrinkles.

"Are those the only clothes you carried?" I shouted from the bed, getting under the blankets. Serena was a typical fashionista; she had more clothes than her mother, and that was saying something.

"No. I have another suitcase in the truck. Zion was to drag it because it's too heavy for me, but he had somewhere to go ."

Or he was avoiding me. The more he delayed our confrontation, the better, or so he thought.

"What for? You're only here for two weeks.

"Actually..., she paused. I can't do two weeks; I must return in one." I could hear the regret in her voice.

"Why?...oh, why? I thought we had time to hang out before you went back. I feel like I barely see you." I complained, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I know. But Lia, I have an appointment with Clèment Dubois on Thursday," her eyes lip up, her voice breaking with excitement and nervousness. Her hands around her stomach as if she was holding her breath.

Dubois was a fashion designer for Gucci. Although the top three brands she wanted to work for were; Chanel, Dior, and Valentino, Gucci was still one of the biggest brands in the world. This was a win.

I have known Serena since she was born. Never have ever seen her this anxious. Her dream was to be a fashion designer since she was old enough to recognize color; her almost getting to have that dream made me happy.

"Wow! Come here," I said, standing on my knees with my arms open up for a hug. She rushed into my arms like she needed affirmation.

"Congratulations. I'm so proud of you. You know you're going to wow him, don't you?"

"Thank you," she sniffed. And I knew she was crying.

"Don't worry. You'll be okay. " I held her for quite some time until we heard someone clear their throat.

It was Nicolo. Beside him were Sienna and Alessa.

"Are you okay?" Sienna and Alessa asked in unison; Nicolo stood like an army Sergeant waiting for instructions.

"Yes," Serena said, wiping tears off her face, "I was telling Lia some very good news."

"Really? What news?" Nicolo sounded suspicious, as if he thought we were lying.

The girls came around for a hug while Nicolo stood by the door, waiting for an answer.

"What news?" He insisted, his voice sounding grim like he would fight for us even though he was sixteen years, seven years younger than me, and Serena's younger brother.

"Don't be so suspicious, Nic. I got a meeting with a Gucci designer on Thursday." His sister said, walking to the door to hug him.

"Congratulations," they said, and the girls ran to her to embrace her again, exultantly wrapping their arms around Serena and Nic.

"Did you come alone?" Nicolo threw me an irritated glance before he answered, "of course not. Dad flew us, and Manuel drove us here."

"Where is Manuel now?"

"Outside, talking with Dev." Manuel was one our security guys. He was witty and stout, but he could run a marathon without stopping to rest.

"Oh," I said. Nodding, I got up to walk out to my room. Since they were here, Serena and I didn't have time to sleep; however, we got time to shower before Luc and Zion arrived.

"Everyone out," I heard Serena say when I reached the top of the stairs, "come on, guy, I need to shower off jet sweat." she almost sounded desperate.

"Didn't you shower in the jet?" Nic asked, getting suspicious again. That boy was becoming too much of a doubting Thomas for his own good. I thought, opening the door of my room.

Going through my closet to choose something to wear, I noticed a big box sitting at the bottom corner, still in good condition. My heart constricted with the memory of Luc handing it to me at our birthday party last year. Pulling it out, I stared at it for a second or so, my hand trembling when I reached out to pull the red silk strap wrapped around it.

'Oh, my God!' I gasped at the beautiful gold pleated strapless Dior gown with a plunging neckline and backless. He knew me so well that I realized it might have been why I hid the gift at the bottom of my closet to prevent me from opening it. It was so beautiful I clenched it against my chest, tears streaming down my face.

Why can't I get over this clogging, hurt feeling? Why can't I let him be?  Just as I was trying to control my emotions, I  heard laughter and sequels, feet thudding on the floor, running outside. I knew he was here.

I dressed slowly in a floral print romper and sandals, delaying the inevitable. When I couldn't stall anymore, I took my phone from the nightstand, glanced at my image in the vanity table mirror, and left.

Although my relationship with Luca had changed dramatically since we were fourteen, we still sat down with family every time we met. I still hugged him, kissed his cheeks, laughed with him, and three years ago, when he was hurt, he came to my bed just like old times.

Thank you for reading. Please vote, comment, and share