The Story of Blood and Roses

Anthony had been locked inside Poseidon's Realm for these days because Cienna was not in the scene and wouldn't be for a considerable amount of time. It was a wonder that she could manage to invade every thought that passed my mind. Exceedingly stupid and irritating, I concluded.

So, he had been scarce and had stumbled into the mansion or the kitchen while I was preparing something to eat. I would set up a plate for him or keep it aside so he could heat it and eat it. For someone who couldn't cook, I was getting good at cooking simple things. My sandwiches were suddenly that delicacy that was to die for. At least, that was what Anthony said while he chewed on the food on his plate and finished up every last crumb of bread. It was sort of cute. And we spoke little to each other, so there were no arguments. Out of the two of us, he was the only one who got a good night's sleep.

I snapped back to the present when I heard the clinking of the spoon against the plate. I focused on the person on the bed, who huffed and complained about how unhealthy the food was.

"That's as healthy as the food can get. At least you're getting some vegetables in that platter of noodles of yours," I reminded her as I left my seat on the couch and tried to take the plate from her.

"You're the worst cook on the planet," she complained as she pulled her hand back as if to keep the plate to herself, but immediately gave it to me when she was finished accusing me of horrible culinary skills.

"I might be the worst cook, but I keep you fed. Don't be such a pain in the ass and let me off the hook for not being able to cook like those Masterchef candidates." She rolled her eyes at me and stuck her tongue out.

"The least you could do is try to make a different meal for lunch and breakfast. Slurping on noodles isn't fun when you do it all the time," she grumbled.

"Get some rest."

"Leave the door open, please?" she pleaded in a soft voice. As Anthony had ordered, she was to be kept under lock and key until he saw her fit to leave the room or the mansion or talk to people. Apart from Anthony and me, no one was allowed to enter the room, not even Ethan. She refused to leave my room and go take up another room, and she refused to let me shift into another room as well. And then she was always asking me to do small favours for her. It was like trying to scold a whiney child—tedious.

"No."

"Please, Mia. I won't give you a hard time, I promise." I think she might have pouted, but I didn't spare her another glance. Her tactics wouldn't work on me. I didn't trust her in the least, and I was sure going to act on it until that feeling changed.

"Rest," I told her in that authoritative voice that made even Anthony sit down in a blink. She nodded solemnly and then eased back into the bed.

My bed.

I needed sleep... a lot of it.

I did lock the door and tried not to think about how it must have felt for Cienna to sit on the bed all day and do nothing but stare at the face of the woman she hated the most. Did I mention that she insisted that I remain with her? Could she get any more annoying? I had mentioned all of that, and the realisation made me grow more irritated with the woman for hogging my bed.

As I set up a plate of food for myself, I heard the light footsteps behind me and steadily started serving food on another plate. Without much acknowledgement, he seemed to have taken his seat and waited for his plate to arrive. Like the predictable person that I was, I placed the food in front of him and took a seat across from him.

"Cienna giving you a hard time?" he asked after he had finished chewing on the second bite of his noodles.

"No, she's no problem," I replied casually and went back to eating.

"Are you going to eat noodles tomorrow as well?" I heard him ask after a long pause. I hummed as I ate and tried not to reply to that particular comment. What was with everyone and their aversion to noodles? Noodles were utterly delicious meals that one could gorge on for every meal. Did these people not learn to appreciate the more beautiful things in life? Like packaged food!

"You don't like noodles?" I ask him after a while, uncannily curious about how he couldn't seem to appreciate the things I liked.

"I love noodles, just not the kind where you just boil it and go at it," he admitted sheepishly.

"I can't cook," I admitted.

"Neither can I," he winked as he replied.

"You're gonna starve if we don't order out," I warned him lightly as I twirled the noodles on my fork.

"I'll survive." He smirked and looked at me in a way that filled me with suspicion.

"What are you planning on doing?" I whispered harshly.

"Nothing. I wonder what Cienna will eat," he snickered. "I guess I'll have to ask someone to drop off some home cooked meal tomorrow. I don't think she can stand looking at noodles after the constant feeding."

"She'll have to manage, as well. She'll survive," I assured light-heartedly.

"I know, but we're gonna eat outside tomorrow. We have work to catch up to."

"You've been working non-stop. Take some rest."

"You need to rest as well. You should try sleeping alone tonight. Try leaving her alone in her room for the night; we'll always be in hearing range if she needs us. I want you to be alert and fresh tomorrow because we're going to investigate this Joe person and finish this job as fast as we can." He seemed so sure of himself as he said the words. The chair that he was sitting on made a sound as he got up. He then moved to the sink and began cleaning the dishes that had accumulated.

"I thought that was my job," I stressed, a bit offended.

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