Fleur Di Lis

Chapter Nine

Michaela guided me down a honey-hued corridor to the back where a huge country-house kitchen was situated, the walls painted a warm red colour. An island counter stood in the middle, with two black-leather bar stools placed at one side. I sat down in one of them, and stared out to the patio doors that showed the endless span of forest. As it was dark outside, everything was doused in pitch darkness. The quiet, though, was positively blissful. 

Perfect after the day -- and night -- I'd had.

"Pretty great, huh?"

I looked up just as Michaela set a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of me, alongside a small milk pot and a bowl of sugar cubes, before leaning against the counter, arms folded beneath her.  I thanked her, dunked two cubes in the dark brown liquid alongside some milk, and took a cautious sip.  It was heaven; the sweet, heady liquid burned a path down my throat and into my stomach, creating a peaceful warmth that was welcomed.

Michaela smiled at me.  I guess my expression said it all, really.  "Good, huh?"

"Amazing.  Better than Starbucks."

"Now, that's a compliment!"  She giggled.

A smile crept on my face.  Despite everything, Michaela's cheeriness was contagious.  It was the same as this house.  It made me feel like nothing could touch me here; like I was safe.  Protected.

"This place," I began.  "It's so..."

"Peaceful?"

"Safe," I finished.  "I feel like nothing could get me here."

"Good," Michaela straightened, her palms resting on the smooth granite work surface.  "That's what Nate wanted for you, especially after tonight."

I glanced down into my mug.  "I take it you heard?"

"Nate called me whilst he was on his way here," Michaela explained softly.  A hand covered my own, and I noticed a beautiful lapis lazuli ring on her pinkie finger, with white flower cameo designs along the front.  I looked up, and saw a look of sympathy on her face.  "He was pretty damn worried about you, honey."

"He knew his brother was behind the murders," I said, removing my hand from underneath hers.  "Yet, he still protected him.  I say he's got every right to be worried, but not about me."

"That's what family does, Nicki," Michaela reasoned gently.  "Especially when all you have left is each other.  Bax and Nate -- it's them against the world, whether they like it or not. Nate, being the big brother, takes responsibilty for Bax."

"Even if it ruins him?"

"Especially if it ruins him," a forlorn look appeared on her face. "If only you knew what those boys went through--"

"Tell me," I interjected, leaning forward. "Nate's not coming back for a while."

She hesitated, then let out a long slow breath. "You remind me so much of her, it's scary."

"Who?"

Her expression darkened. "The girl who started everything. Her name was Anastasia Rodriguez, but the brothers knew her as Anastasia Robertson."

Michaela straightened up and made her way over to a white writing table, where she opened a drawer and pulled out a small wooden box, painted with intricate flower designs and locked together with a golden-plated clip.  Cupping it in her hands, she handed it to me.  It felt so light, so smooth...  I unclipped the lock and opened it to see an oil painting of a beautiful young woman.  She was dressed in an 18-century-styled emerald gown that contrasted well with her ivory skin,  her bottle-green eyes and bright red hair that was pinned behind her head.  But, it wasn't the detailing of her eyes, or the beauty that made me freeze in my seat.