Michele

In general, I hate Monday’s. It’s like mornings, I’m not big on those either. Until I have managed to choke down my first Diet Coke, there is no talking to me. My mind goes back to a time before my addiction to my fizzy beverage wasn’t so strong. More so because I was addicted to love at the time.

“Sugar,” I feel him tease my skin with his fingers. “Michele, need you to wake up.” Jackson says peppering kisses over my face.

“No!”

He laughs. “It’s Monday, I gotta get ready for work.”

Popping one eye open, I attempt a glare at him. “Fuck Monday’s.”

Flopping back in the bed beside me, he howls in a deep baritone laugh. It’s heaven to my ears. “Your man’s gotta work baby. It’s called being an adult.”

“Adulting sucks.”

“I know what you need,” he smirks and I reach out to pull him to me.

“Do ya now?”

“I’ll show you the good parts to bein’ an adult. Let me start your Monday right.”

He did. He started my day off with a sated body, mind, and spirit full of love. There is a pounding on my door reminding me why I’m awake before eleven on a weekday. Rolling out of bed on a huff, I snag my oversized t-shirt from the floor and toss it on. Since I married Jackson right out of school and he preferred me to sleep in just panties I got used to it and continue to do so now.

Looking through the peep hole, I see it’s my landlord, Mr. Roper. Rushing back to my bed, I snatch sweatpants off the floor and slip them on.

Opening the door, I automatically start rambling. “I have an order; I’ll have my rent caught up. I just need -,” he throws his hand up silencing me.

“You really are a piece of work.”

I step back at his verbal assault.

“You sign a lease with a bullshit name like Peony Michele. I ignore that because you got this sad doe look to you. Then you don’t pay on time. Now, I get some wire transfer to my account paying your bill and an email stating you are moving out today! No warning and you don’t even finish your renewed lease agreement.”

He is furious. This man has been kind, gentle, and left me alone in the midst of my personal hell. There is no kindness left. No he is enraged, rightfully so.

“I, I,” I stumble over my words just as a shadow moves from behind Mr. Roper and steps into my apartment.

Antonio Almanza is in a pair of worn jeans and a skin tight white V-neck shirt showing his muscles and ink. Before I can register what’s going on, he wraps me up in his big arms and presses his plump lips to mine.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” He whispers against my lips before backing away and turning to Mr. Roper. “Hello, I assume you’re the owner. You will find her bill paid in full and we are moving today.” Extending a hand in greeting to Mr. Roper, Antonio continues, “I am Antonio Almanza, Peony’s man.”

The air in the space changes. Tension fills the area and my skin prickles.

“Almanza, you say?”

“That is mi familia,” Antonio stares Mr. Roper down in a silent exchange.

“Just call when you’re out so I can put the loft on the market.” Mr. Roper says before turning and walking out without another word.

Antonio doesn’t speak but instead goes to my full size bed that sits on the floor because a bed frame was an unnecessary expense. He lays back crossing his legs at the ankle and lifting his phone to type something.

“The boys are on their way up to pack you.”

“I never agreed.” I counter back as my mind races.

“Did you not use the connection we shared with Lee Bates to get out of your home? Did you not get set up with safety here?”

I say nothing because there is nothing I can say.

“You, Hermosa, sought our aid. We did not seek you out. You are Almanza now and have been for quite some time. We appreciate your loyalty. Consider this an upgrade. Now you won’t struggle to pay your way because we will pay it for you.”

“I don’t want to be involved.”

He smiles showing his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Oh but you have been involved for far too long without being asked more.”

I pace the small space as men filter in. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to worry. It’s not like we’re asking you to kill your mother.” He drops his tone making sure I understand the warning.

“My mother didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, she didn’t. No worries, I called her personally to inform her of our new relationship.”

My chest tightens to the point that it is hard to breathe. “What relationship?”

“Our relationship,” he drags out the word. “Look I told you things were changing. For all intents and purposes we are in a relationship. This gives you protection and makes the move make sense.”

He pats the bed beside him. When I don’t move, he gets up and comes to stand face to face with me.

“This can be fun or it can be hell. The choice is yours.” He plants a chaste kiss to my lips before brushing past me and grabbing a box from one of his associates.

I stand in the middle of my loft stunned.

Antonio takes the box, setting it up and taping the bottom into place. From there he moves to my nightstand. I can’t register what’s happening as he opens my drawer and dumps the contents in one swift move.

He clicks his tongue before lifting my dildo high in the air, “oh yes, Peony this could be quite fun between us.”

Mortification sets in and I rush to the bathroom.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

**

The new space is not huge, but it’s not small either. The bottom floor, is the showcase room. According to Antonio, I will be seeing clients coming and going. They will be providing me with a secretary to handle the foot traffic. Someone, he says, with more experience in what they need from me.

What they need from me scares me.

I have only been here a week. Other than Antonio no one else has been by. He had someone check my post office box and the man with the order for buoys shipped them.

On a sigh, I leave the second floor apartment that feels stale and head down to the bottom floor to work. The only things I managed to unpack were my clothes and art supplies. Then again, other than one box of keepsakes, I don’t have anything else.

The second floor is my living space. The top floor, is supposed to be living space as well, but being I am alone, Antonio has put a lock on the door at the top of the stairs to the third floor explaining that the space above me is for his business.

I don’t ask questions.

Sometimes the less you know the better, and for me, this seems to be one of those situations.

Shaking off the thoughts of just how deep in shit I’m wading around, I get to work. Two hours pass without a bit of noise, activity, or anything to distract me from the bundles of peonies.

I hear the sound of keys clanking against the glass front door before the noise of the lock turning.

“Peony,” Antonio calls from the front as he saunters in with five men following close behind.

I stand not sure why he won’t use my name in front of others, but more importantly wondering why he is here with a group of men all dressed in business suits.

Antonio strolls straight to me and presses his lips to mine. I don’t react. I’m dumbfounded.

He breaks away and smiles. “Thank you for not getting paint on my suit, Hermosa.”

Reaching around he grabs my ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll have time for you later. My associates and I will be upstairs. Do not disturb us.”

The other men follow as Antonio passes by me to make his way upstairs to the living areas and not a single one speaks even though each one of them eyes me appraisingly.

It makes my anxiety go into overdrive. I have a group of men doing who knows what upstairs in my apartment.

I have no where to run, no where to hide, and no one to save me from the mess my life is in.

This is not what my life was supposed to become.

At thirty-seven, I planned to have three kids, two dogs, and a hamster with Jackson. Not be estranged from my husband who may or may not have murdered my brother and be tied up in some cartel craziness.

My head throbs and I pick up my Diet Coke needing more caffeine in my system if I’m going to make it through this day. I really should learn to like coffee.

So much for things going according to plan.