The Story of Blood and Roses

"So, we're going to her apartment, then?" I was a bit too excited for my own good.

"Yes. I'm pretty sure that it's in the same ransacked state as we had left it in."

"Do you think the doorman won't notice that we're carrying a half-dead woman up to her apartment?"

"How many times do you think he has seen her doing that?"

"Still..."

"He has been on my payroll for quite some time now. Don't worry; he will not say a word about anything to anyone." He strode away, leaving us to device a method to carry Cienna out of the basement to the car.

Ethan and I stared at Cienna for a moment before getting into action.

"Get the tapes out... we need the blood to rush back into place. I hope the adhesive doesn't stick to her skin," I grumbled. Ethan nodded as he started ripping the tape off her skin.

It was fun.

.

The doorman had promptly nodded when Michael passed him. Michael didn't acknowledge him. He concentrated on helping Ethan carry Cienna to the elevator. I was happy to open doors and listen to them grunting and groaning about how heavy Cienna had become.

"So, she was trying to help the love of her life..." Ethan scoffed.

"The only time she had tried to contact Luke was when she had run from the mansion..." Michael injected.

"And Luke wants me." I helped to end the list of things that Cienna had confessed to.

"Everyone wants you," Michael rolled his eyes.

"Here we go again..." Ethan sighed as he quickened his pace.

"No, they don't!" I retorted.

"You just don't know yet," he said as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Cut it out, guys. Keep the romance at bay, until Ethan is away..."

We chuckled as we followed him inside the minivan.

.

This was it; our little piece of heaven, or hell. I couldn't say that we were always happy because we were bickering more often than not. We found ourselves constantly arguing about things: sometimes it was about how peculiar his table manners were or how defensive I was when he asked me questions about myself. It always ended with the two of us sitting on either side of Sean and silently watch him glare at his computer screen in concentration.

He had fidgeted in the beginning, but then got used to the pattern. The boy was constantly working, building new software that would make him rich someday, or strengthening Michael's system. He kept an impeccable record of invoices and reprieves and had a chart of every penny that anyone spent. I supposed that being a tech genius had its own perks. The finance team usually fell to his feet and took information from him. As it turned out, Michael kept the loyalty of his employees in check by keeping their economic transactions under surveillance. Once he became suspicious of someone, he could dig out the intricacies of their spending and question their loyalty.

"I think you should take some rest," I advised.

"No!" Michael barked.

"You don't want to run him down."

"He knows when to stop."

"Look at him! Of course, he doesn't know when to pause."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I am the one being ridiculous?" my voice rose.

"Yes!" he hissed.

"Could you guys keep it down? I'm trying to work here," scolded the small voice from between us. We looked down to see that Sean was staring at us with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Oh, sorry," we apologized at once.

"I'll work for a few more minutes before going back to my place to crash. I haven't seen mom in a while." A smile spread over my face as I nodded. "Thanks for the idea, Mia," he smiled back as he spoke. He then went back to stare at his computer and proceeded to write out codes for the next half an hour.

"Continue with your bickering," he said in a muffled voice as he wrapped up. He covered all the computers and shut them off manually.

"What are you snickering about?" Michael growled. The snickers became louder until it turned into a full blown giggle.

"Nothing," he snorted.

He walked out with his hands covering his mouth and errand snickers escaping every now and then.

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