Cruel Heart

PART 4

Holy shit, Mia thought as she pulled into the front driveway of Harlan's mansion. The house made the Playboy mansion look like a dollhouse. The towering steeples mounted on the roof disappeared into the dark shadows of night above, ending in gleaming points of onyx.

It made her current living situation seem rather pathetic. Although that was already pretty sad to begin with. Not that Ruth's couch was bad--but come on; it wasn't exactly the Ritz.

The echoing of her heels clacking against the cobbles of the driveway was swallowed by the blasting bass that poured from the house, the loud music reverberating along the walls of her chest.

Cars flooded the drive way; a half a mile long walkway of paved cement lined in black stones. Who needed a drive way in Manhattan anyways?

Mia sunk deeper into her coat as the cold seeped through her gloves.

Jeez, she thought as the thumping music grew louder. You'd think an angst-filled teen was throwing a house party while their parents were away. Not a 20 something CEO.

As per Harlan's request, Mia had bought twelve bags of chips and dip. Six salt and vinegar, and six original. Along with the twelve tubs of frozen guacamole.

She'd asked about alcohol and had been greeted with no response other than the sound of Harlan's sharp laughter.

But now, feet away from the door, Mia was hit in the face with a wall of musky air; the smell of whiskey and beer coupled with cigarette smoke.

Okay, she thought, definitely did not need to buy any liquor.

Mia walked through the double doors and wanted to roll her eyes. Who the hell needed double doors made of mahogany and a mansion made of stone and onyx? Aside from a Disney villain, it wasn't necessary.

But the again, a lot about Harlan Veers was out of the ordinary. Everything from the galaxy in his eyes to the husky drawl of his voice was over the top. He would stick out of any crowd like an all black-clad sore thumb. 

So she supposed it made sense he lived in a mansion like a Victorian King.  

She pushed through the crowd, praying for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

Yep.

She definitely did not belong here. For starters; she had all of her ribs, Mia thought as she eyed the sea of double zero women dancing, twerking their bony asses in time with the pounding music.

Mia had half a mind to offer them a cheeseburger. Yikes, just looking at then made her want a McDonald's double cheeseburger. Yeah, that sounded soooo good right now.

Mia's stomach grumbled at the thought.

She passed by dark alcove after dark alcove and turned down the endless halls of the mansion, walking by couples who clearly had no problem with PDA. Limbs tangled together like knots, couples falling into couples in an endless wave of passion. 

The beads of sweat along their skin pulsed under the neon strobe lights. Blue shifted to purple only to morph into a lime green on repeat, painting the entire house to resemble a kaleidoscope. 

Yep, Mia definitely did not belong here. She belonged...Okay, so she didn't exactly know where she belonged--but she knew it wasn't here.

Just find Harlan and you can leave, she told herself.

"Speak of the devil," Mia mumbled as she carved her way through the sweaty crowd. 

Lounging against the marble counter top of the kitchen was Harlan, arms folded over his lithe torso. He wore black skinny jeans and a black skin tight T shirt. The cotton of his shirt clung to his muscles, perfectly outlining his sculpture-like torso.