Dark Love

Chapter Thirty-One

A few weeks have gone by and Mia had gotten closer to the new replacement. Flávio Benigni was a very interesting person, and Mia has grown fond of him.

All she knew was that he was single, and nothing more. She didn't like questioning people's personal lives. She was not a nosy person, although she was slightly relieved when he said that, as no jealous girlfriends would be knocking on her door.

It was their lunch break, and they headed to an Italian restaurant. Sitting down, she sighed.

"I cannot wait to order." she said, scanning the menu.

"True, and don't worry. It's all on me." Flávio announced.

"No. I can't allow that."

"I insist."

She blushed. She had to admit, he was definitely a romantic. He always had a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, bit his lip every once in a while, said the most beautiful things. Mia knew she had to watch out, or else she would fall for him...hard.

Not uttering another sound, she ordered and sipped on the wine one of the waiters placed in front of her. He gazed at her as he too, sipped on his wine. A shiver ran down her spine. She knew that look...

"What?" she said, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh, nothing," he placed his glass on the table, "just stunned at how gorgeous you are."

Her face was beet red by now. He smiled at her, and her insides melted. Flávio reached out and cupped her hand in his. Their faces were inches apart now. She was breathing heavily, panting really.

"You know, Mia...these past few days have made me realize how much I need a woman in my life." he bit his lip, "And...I think I want you to be that woman."

If she weren't sitting, she would have fallen, because she felt her knees wobble She let out an aboriginal laugh.

"Flávio, I - I don't know what to say."

"Time." he smiled, "All we need is some time. All I can tell you is, I never felt this way with any woman. Ever."

She gulped her wine down in one swift swig. Her hands were trembling slightly. The way he looked at her, the way he held her hand made her think of someone. One person. One man.

Todd.

She hadn't allowed herself to think of him in a long, long time. She liked that. Todd had made her life a living nightmare.

Flávio was a good man, but she felt like he was rushing into things a bit. She wasn't ready for a new relationship. Definitely not.

She wouldn't be able to swallow her food now.

No words were said after his little confession. She wouldn't break the silence either. She was too uncomfortable, and couldn't bring herself to eat any more. She played around with her food, her fork swirling around the plate.

When it was time to leave, she was relieved. What was supposed to be an amicable lunch turned out to be a horrendous nightmare. She could still feel her hand cupped in his. The palm of her hand was tingling slightly.

The day passed by quickly, and before she knew it she was home. Tired and exhausted, she hit the shower. It wasn't as relaxing and as expected it to be, but it helped. A lot of thoughts resurfaced, which forced her to think of her family. Her mother. She hadn't spoken to her in a while. Greta understood, she knew Mia needed some time and space to think about everything that had happened.

It was too much. She went through so much, she's still skinny. She lost her appetite, food was as appetizing anymore. She could live without it, as long as she took her supplements.

Wrapping a towel around her now slim body, she tip-toed from the bathroom to the corridor, where she came face to face with Donald. Her eyes briefly scanned his face, and she soon noticed how moody he was. He didn't have that flush in his cheeks, or the sparkle in his eyes, something she had grown fond of. Instead, he was pale, and frowning.

“What's wrong?" she said.

“Nothing," he briefly said, turning away from her, heading to the kitchen. She frowned, and stared back at him. Before she could stop herself, she was marching up to him and said in a demanding tone, “I asked you what's wrong, and I expect an answer."

“Expect?" Donald scoffed, “Expect? Mia, you can't expect shit from me."

“Yes I can," she firmly stated, “As your guardian—"

“That doesn't fucking matter!" he bellowed, “You're not my fucking mom."

“Donald," Mia gasped, “you can't say those things to me, you're being incredibly disrespectful!"

“Damn right I am." Donald boomed, “And I will continue being, whenever you piss me off."

“Piss you off? I haven't done anything to you!" Mia was throwing her arms in the air now.

“Fuck off." he said, and walked past her, bumping his shoulder against her as he did. Mia scoffed. She stormed back to her room. She couldn't believe she argued with a teenager, while she was wrapped in a towel and barefoot. Mumbling to herself, she slammed her bedroom door behind her.

She groaned in frustration, throwing her pillows at her bedroom door. She was beyond frustrated now. She didn't understand why he was acting like such a dick, when she was nothing but nice to him. She treated him like his own son.

She didn't leave her bedroom after that. She called her mother, and spent hours on the phone with her. Her mother told her Donald was going through a teenage crisis, which was caused by most probably sexual frustration. Mia doubted it. Donald was no innocent adolescent. He didn't even have pimples.

Mia fell asleep at about three a.m, completely aware that she had work in the morning. She didn't even fall asleep. She had so much in her mind, she spent most of the time trying to figure out what had caused Donald to react that way. She knew for sure that she wouldn't bother asking. No way.

A little part of her wondered whether it had something to do with his father, but she quickly brushed the thought away.

Impossible, she told herself.

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~Stephanie