The Good Mistress: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (23 page)

Running away or however it was considered, she had to leave them in her wake. But…

“Is that why Veronica broke up with you?” The question flew out of Mila’s mouth.

Lido continued to type on her cell phone. Now her left foot fidgeted incessantly.

“Veronica seemed to be trying to tell me something for a while… Was it because of… Lido, do not ignore me!” Mila started for her, but Yasmin blocked her path. Mila held up her hands in surrender, then when her eldest sister’s guard was down, she reached around and snatched up the cell phone. It went somersaulting toward the sliding glass door.

“Hey, I was scheduling a facial!” Lido shouted.

Like a blowfish, Yasmin’s cheeks puffed up as she took a deep breath. The two eldest always went toe-to-toe. She wasn’t even versed on Lido’s latest misdeeds, but she held in a plethora of disappointment, anger, and more. “A
facial
,
really
, Lido? Mila’s visibly shaken. There was some sort of altercation by the front door. You’ve been living in her home for a while now. Can we support her?”

“Hell yes.” Lido nodded, fluffing her pillow. “I’ll support her by using
her
iPhone to call AT&T! I’ll sit on the line for God knows how long so that bitch can buy me a new phone!”

Mila took out her phone. “Okay, you know what. Allow me to do everything. But by the end of the week, you need to have your bags packed. I am leaving you for good, Lido.”

“But … I’ve … ju… just tried to leave.” Her bottom lip puckered out.

Mila rubbed the tension at the back of her neck. “I’m guessing that’s all you have to say. But don’t worry, I forgive you, Lido. So don’t go into a nosedive believing everyone is out to hate on you. You’ve dug this grave. When you’re ready to get out…” Mila held out a hand.

Her sister vehemently stared at the show of clemency, tears trickling down dewy skin. “I don’t need your help, Mila. You’re my fucking
walaashay yar
, I’m not your little ass sister! I’ll never have regrets.”

Mila’s eyes squeezed shut.  Spine rigid, she started out of the bedroom with Yasmin at her heels.

“What did she do?”

“Slept with Blake.”

Her eldest sister’s warm brown skin tone paled as her eyes widened. “Oh, Mila…. I… So you’re returning home, then? You’re
moving
back to Ethiopia? I feel like this decision was made too quickly.”

“Not really, Yasmin. It’s been a long time coming…”

Chapter 37

Mila

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia,
One week later

THE RICH SOIL
sifted into her nostrils, sending feel-good hormones to a heart that had all but stopped beating. If she closed her eyes, this was really home. Somalia, the place where her family moved from when Mila was only eight.

At the piazza
she hailed a taxi, right across from Emperor Benedict’s statue on his horse. Her father’s practice was closer but she went to the
merkato
first. She walked down the streets lined with stores, blending in with the people. The ambience, character, and rich aromas settled her emotions. Mila negotiated for the price of a silk shawl while walking through.

The blistering sun had begun to set by the time Mila stepped into the doctor’s office of general practitioner Ali MD. She smiled at the few families who still sat in the lobby. Memories of being a youngster and playing with other youth at her father’s medical office helped settle the worry in her gut.

“
Salam Alechem, Woizrity
Mila,” a soft voice greeted her.

She turned, eyes wide, to see one of her oldest Ethiopian friends, Dinha, dressed with a hijab covering her hair. It was safe to say her friend had gotten married, though Mila didn’t keep up with anyone after she moved. The two bestowed three kisses to each other’s cheek, and just as Mila pulled away, she tensed.

Dinha’s smile began to fade. They both turned to see Doctor Ali standing at the entrance of the lobby. A mother and child were walking out with him. The woman seemed to be thanking him, yet his response faltered as he saw Mila.

There were two more families in the lobby. Her father told one they’d be next, then let Dinha know that her daughter would be seen shortly. Then he left.

~~~

She’d stayed for almost an hour waiting for her father to finish, knowing that Mr. Ali often stayed until the lobby cleared out. But jetlag had Mila deciding to head home once the sun started to go down. Her luggage was due to arrive at her parent’s place in a few minutes. She’d thought she’d timed it right, but wanted to make sure she was there to explain to her mother first.

Mila arrived at their family’s modest four-bedroom home just as the courier she paid to wait had arrived.

Her mother stood on the porch, face contorted in confusion, staring at the taxi and the man taking luggage from another car. Then their eyes locked onto each other. Again, Mila’s heart felt something it hadn’t in seven whole days. A heartbeat. A tiny sob broke from her mother’s mouth as she ran down the stairs. Mila hurried past the man up the porch steps.

They worked together, putting away Mila’s modest clothing. There was no talk of when father would get home or what he would say. She just spoke of good times with Yasmin, and her mother’s eyes widened at the mention of Lido’s name. The dinner table was set for three when the front door opened.

Her mother told her to stay put as she went to greet her husband. Arguing began to rise. Mila leaned against the wall, listening to the words. Hand to throat, Mila heard Mrs. Ali exclaiming an old proverb,
Dhiigaaga kuma dhaqaaqo—
Does your blood not move?

“Does your blood not move…”
it was a line for injustice, said on few occasions by her mom when she was but a child. Namely, the time when they fled Somalia. Mila had begun to scream for them to stop, tears streaming while watching the woman and child outside. That very moment, Mila’s mom whispered those words to her father.

As always, an anxiety of the unknown began to wash over her. Instead of succumbing, her feet began to move. She stepped back into the living room.

When Mila appeared, they stopped talking. Her mother walked away, leaving father and youngest daughter alone.

“
Aabbo
—father,” Mila asked her father to hear her out.

He consented on one condition…

Chapter 38

Blake

Six Months Later

HE WANTED TO
believe that he broke her heart to save her life…
Yeah, that’s fucking bullshit
, Blake thought. But it still hurt that Mila thought he’d even consider bedding Lido, her own sister. Less than three weeks prior to whatever transpired, he’d had the traveling itinerary for his and Mila’s anniversary scheduled. They were to finish off in Ethiopia. He’d meet with Mila’s father, chat man to man. Not even for the sake of his and Mila’s relationship; but to mend a broken father-daughter relationship.

Mila had become
his
world. Her happiness was his religion. It was time for Blake to do the right things, Mila at his side. Yet the stars hadn’t aligned. The love of his life hadn’t reciprocated the same beliefs.

Nope. Mila accused him of fucking her sister. The hurt in her eyes was so shocking, so vivid, even now. He took the easy way out by not telling her the truth. Now it was time to wrap up one chapter of his life.

He parallel parked off Wilshire Blvd, slammed the door, and pressed his hand against the buttons of his cream-colored suit. Then Blake conformed into the humdrum of businesspersons meandering toward the cement-gray Federal Bureau of Investigations building before him. Those purple eyes narrowed as Agent Cynthia Taylor started outside. She was dressed in a navy blue business suit, the skirt stopping at her shapely calves.

They met beneath a tree.

“Well, Mr. Baldwin, I am actually happy to see you.”

“Happy? You’ve been the prototype for the feds, rather saucy. I should have brought along Lamb.”

“Yeah, right. You keep that flashlight cop away from me.” She smiled, even though they both knew his right-hand man did a tad more than he should. “Let’s not get sentimental since I haven’t seen you in half a year. Of course, I am the stereotypical federal agent. But call me by my true name, I’m a fucking bitch. You don’t get to where I am with a fucking cat between your legs. Now you ready to get down to business?”

He rubbed the stubble of his jawline. “I stay ready.”

She scoffed. “That’s the understatement of the century. You’ve been the bane of my existence ever since I caught your rich keister and
Lamb
impeding on my investigation in Tokyo. Unlike the lovely mistress Lola, who had diamond like claws, I on the other hand, didn’t have time for your shenanigans.”

He chuckled. Lola was linked to Warren. She’d tried to blackmail Blake since Warren had visited her on his last business trip. Warren was going to break off the sexual relationship he had going on during travel, before marriage. Lola wasn’t one to be denied. However, she’d found out about the discrepancy in his business accounts, but didn’t know that the numbers had been fluffed on purpose, or that a hacker had tapped his one account that was supposedly linked to terrorist funding. And with the faulty jet going down, not to mention the life insurance company’s refusal to pay after the Feds got involved, Warren was murdered on purpose. Lamb had chatted Lola up… in so many different ways. Then a few months later she was murdered by one of her sugar daddies in a totally unrelated event.

“You’re in the clear,” Cynthia said. “Granted you’ve been stubborn through this entire ordeal, I even thwarted the IRS from taking a little looksee into your company, since those fuckers can get cozy.”

“Appreciated.” Blake began to take a step backwards, but felt like there was more between the two.

“For fuck sakes, are you going to get your lady back? Your mistress postponed most of this investigation anyway.” Cynthia shook her head. As a body analyst, she knew he was still considering it. “See, I think you were smarter when younger, as Mr. Walker. You went out on the limb, did a few illegal things as a hacker in order to commence your empire.”

“You know about that?” Blake chuckled remembering his college years. Though scholarships went far for prestigious universities, he had to survive. It was also how he figured out that Todd was a part of this attempt to fuck over his business, which was one of the reasons Cynthia tolerated his involvement in the federal investigation. Todd had been rotting in jail for a while now, until the head honcho had been apprehended.

“Mila has returned to Ethiopia.”

Cynthia didn’t seem convinced that this was the end of their chapter. “Well… yeah, but you’ll think it over for a while, don’t wait too late to go see her.”

Chapter 39

Mila

IT TOOK MILA
years to ask her father about the Somali mother and son. The boy had to be at least 10 at the time, because Mila had just turned 13. That is, if they’d made it. Mila had been helping sweep the office at his practice when she brought it up. It was the first time in her life that her father was at a lack for words. Mila, the one named after “People’s Love” had put more thought into her sisters, her family, and a mother and child she’d never see again, then her own chance at love. That had happened all of her life, even though the years had been good to her. Making the trek from Somalia to Ethiopia dissipate to the nether regions of her cognition. Only to be remembered during tragedy, such as the death of a man who’d promised to love her a lifetime.

For six months she’d gotten into the swing of things. Every penny from the home Mila once shared with Warren was being placed brick by brick into the resource center being built in Los Angeles, on Broadway and Manchester. It was a bittersweet time, returning to California for a few weeks in order to interview potential life coaches, part-time therapist, and other facilitators for the building.

Now, Mila’s bank account didn’t look too funny, but due to her father’s good standing, Mila received a job at Addis International Bank. She’d learned that Lido was the reason the two younger sisters were estranged from their father. He’d never refused to speak to them again. This disrespect had prompted their father to forbid their mother to even speak with the girls in his presence. Through all her sister’s treacheries, Mila kept in touch with Lido.

Then the first day of the rest of her life lingered just around the corner. Tomorrow, she’d meet the man who would be her husband. Her father’s only prerequisite was a pre-arranged marriage. Her heart was no longer numb. Her soul had blossomed, albeit not as in bloom as it once was, Mila lived. A marriage of convenience would be her saving grace.

~~~

In a gold maxi dress and navy tapered blazer, Mila watched from the back seat as the taxi passed the Lion of Juda that evening.
Who am I kidding, there’s no way in hell, I will be happy choosing my man. I’m wise enough to consent to my father’s wishes…

The car lurched to a stop in front of the restaurant where she’d be meeting with family and the chosen one. Staving off the slight shake of her fingers by continuously reminding herself of the mistakes in her life, Mila pulled out enough for fare. One bejeweled flat after the other, she got out.

Dancers moved to lively music on the stage as Mila went to sit with her parents. She was late. Mostly due to nerves about meeting her father’s chosen, as she’d been overzealous helping at work. Yasmin, Faaid and their children were at the table.

Everyone stood as she arrived. Colorful clay tea pots and cups were on the table, yet they’d waited for her. She apologized for her delay, sitting between her sister and mother. The sisters whispered to each other as food began to come.

“Any words of wisdom?” Mila asked under her breath as she sipped tea. Her mother rubbed her arm sympathetically. The men carried the conversation.

Before either one could speak, a warm feeling swept over Mila’s skin. Someone was staring at her. Someone as familiar as the refreshing scent of rain. Neck turning slowly, Mila scanned the crowded, festive restaurant. Tingles meandering down her spine, she hastily turned forward, causing the men’s conversation to hush. She stood, mumbling something along the lines of needing to be excused. Yasmin began to rise, but Mila stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

Mila stalked toward the exit. Right outside, Blake stood on the walkway. In an instant the plethora of emotions surging through her veins broke away. She curled her arms around her chest, then instantly let go.  The movement could be construed as weak. Her balled hands went back to her sides, while her gaze slithered across him. He wore a five o’clock shadow and a cream colored suit. His scent pervaded her nostrils, along with the taste of black maple bourbon.

Thick warm honey, spice and oak… his mouth was the crux of black maple bourbon; she desired the perplexity,
him,
to slide down her throat. Yet what once was mysteriously sexy now was evasive, cold. He wasn’t a dark angel of desire. This motherfucker, though sexy as sin, was the devil.

“Congratulations on breaking ground on your resource center, Mila. The People’s Love Project is…”

“Why are
you
here? The Simien Mountains? just passing through?” Mila slowed the rush of her words, taking on a more blasé manner. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you.”

One high heel behind the other, she backed toward the door, shaking her head.

His words were measured. “May I have a few minutes of your time?”

“Nope.” Mila moved to the side as the door opened and a couple came out. The festive music spilling from inside was all wrong for this moment. She turned around to step back inside, but the door swooshed close as Blake’s hands grabbed her shoulders.

“Please, Mila. Just a few minutes, for the man you fell in love with?”

“
The man I fell in love with?
Hell, no. You got questions? Hell, I got them too. Please or sorry, those aren’t a part of your vocabulary.”

“You asked me to apologize for Lido. I
never
touched
her
. Nor had I ever glanced at her in any suspect way, Mila.”

Again people passed by, this time from the parking lot. Instead of following the couple into the restaurant, Mila moved toward the side of the building with Blake.

“I know you didn’t sleep with Lido.” Mila sighed. “It took my sister a few months, but she came clean. She always does, eventually.” The snake came clean about everything. Lido had dropped her clothes in front of Blake one time when he came over during her stay. He’d been cooking dinner for Mila, unaware Lido had been home, when she entered the kitchen as naked as she was the day she was born. Lido told all, saying that Blake only told her to get dressed, and that she should tell Mila of her misdeeds. This had turned out to be the reason he started only coming late at night and leaving early in the morning. Lido had ended the conversation with “
I thought you and Blake would have talked by now. Or probably at an ob/gyn appointment. It isn’t my fault you weren’t smart enough to get pregnant, Mila.”

“So how can I help you, Blake? Am I to assume you craved your mistress?”

At that very moment, the dignity Mila clung to dashed away. He’d penetrated flesh and bone. Once more, her heart was in jeopardy of Blake’s manipulation.

“Mila,” he annunciated every syllable, green glare holding her body in a trance, “You were
never
my mistress!”