You Are Mine

Chef Nic

Nicole

My eyes fluttered open the next morning and, I closed one hand over my mouth to stifle the yawn as I looked up at the clock on the other wall. It was a few minutes past 10. I sighed, sitting up, and pushed the covers off my body. 

My whole body ached, and my eyes felt swollen, maybe because of my weird sleeping position, or the fact that I barely even had enough sleep. I could not blame myself though, I would like to see anyone try to sleep under the watchful and creepy eye of an overbearing husband. 

My eyes roamed the room, and I breathed a small sigh of relief at the silence and emptiness that they met. Adrian must have gone out, thankfully, which would mean that I could get a few hours of some much-needed peace before he came back. I climbed off the bed and slipped on the mickey mouse flip-flops Adrian seemed to hate maybe, that was the exact reason I loved them. 

With Adrian gone, I had no problem taking off the PJs I had on right there in the room. I dumped them on the bed and strolled to the bathroom to get ready for another day of drama.

After a warm bath, I slipped on a pair of comfy sweats and a large black t-shirt that said 'rock me' and packed my hair in a ponytail. I stood at the closet vanity and looked at myself in the mirror. I could almost recognize the girl in the mirror—almost. I raised my fingers, looking at the ring Adrian had given me for our very romantic wedding.  

Having seen enough diamonds on my mom, I could tell it was real diamond. For some reason, it fit my finger perfectly, which only made me wonder how Anderson knew my size so easily. That did not matter though, what mattered was that it was the only thing that separated me from who I was a few days ago. Very small and almost unnoticeable, yet it had made such a big impact on my life. Hell, it had turned my life upside down.

I shook my head, refusing to think of what would upset me. I decided to shower my mind with positive thoughts, like the fact that I had a friggin art room all to myself to decorate however I wished and do whatever I chose to do in there, at least with that consolation, I would survive the next few months. 

I finished up quickly and rushed out of the bedroom. I quickly fixed up the bed and put every other thing in its right place. The room was not in a major mess, just a few things here and there, and it only took me 10 minutes to get it done. The dark colors all around still made me edgy, but if Adrian and I ever went one week with no fights or without him being an asshole, I could attempt to ask him if we could make the room a little brighter. Not like I cared though, I was only going to be here for a few months. 

As I walked past the table heading for the door, I noticed my phone, still lying on the table where Adrian had dropped it last night. I was on top of a small note, and I was sure the note was Adrian's. I leaned down and took my phone, grabbing the note along. 

"You can have your phone, I meant it when I said I will not take it anymore. You can call the cops or lead them here—your mom said hi." 

"What an asshole," I scoffed and continued reading. 

"Don't forget to tell the chef to tone down the spice when she's making your breakfast, she's a bit of a spicy cooker. And make sure you eat. If you don't, I'll find out, and you know what would follow. With love from you dear husband. Kisses." 

My face was a full frown when I finished reading the note, such a control freak. I had almost made up my mind not to eat any food just to dare him, but my stomach had other plans as it groaned in hunger. I squeezed the paper angrily and tossed it into the bin, then shoved my phone into my pocket, continuing on my way out of the room. 

"Good morning Mrs. Davonte," an older woman that looked like the head chef greeted me with a smile and a thick Italian accent as I entered the downstairs kitchen after almost losing my way. Thankfully there were so many staff and helpers to help me find my way. Apart from the fact that they kept using a formal tone and name on me, I had no other issue with them.  

"Good morning..." I squinted, trying to read her name tag, 

"Chessa," she completed. 

"Good morning Chessa," I walked into the kitchen and reached for a bottle of water in the fridge. 

"So what can I make you Mrs. Davonte?" 

"Please, Chessa," I said, taking a big gulp of water. "You're probably older than my mom, please, just call me Nicole or Nic. I really don't mind."

"You are the boss's wife, I would never," she said, almost shocked. 

"Please, I insist. It's already a ton uncomfortable here. I would have thought you would want to make it less so for me." I pouted. 

"I would, but..."

"Then I insist, Nicole." I dropped the bottle on the counter and walked to her, "also it's what are we making?"

"What?" 

I tied the lower hem of the t-shirt, and turned to her with a smile, "I want to help make breakfast for myself." 

She muttered a few words in Italian nervously and looked at me with a pleading expression, "child, I am going to get into so much trouble if you do that, please just tell me what you want to eat." 

"Too late," I said, making my way to the fridge to get some eggs. She looked at me bewildered, as I gathered all the ingredients I needed for breakfast on the counter. 

"Do we have flour?" I asked, searching the lower cabinet. 

"Please child, will you at least look at me." she pleaded. 

I got to my feet and stepped closer to her. She looked genuinely scared, and I could not help but wonder why she would be so terrified over such a simple matter. "I promise Chessa, I will not let you get into any trouble because of me, just please let me do this."  

After a beat of silence, she released a tired sigh and nodded. "Thank you. Now please show me where the flour is." 

"Hello, mama," a familiar feminine voice called from the doorway. 

"Hello, my daughter," Chessa answered. 

I turned to see Marie, the maid I had met the day I got here. "It's you," I said with a smile, happy to see a familiar face. 

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Davonte," she responded with a smile too, holding a basket of tomatoes. 

"What is up with everyone and that name? It's Nicole, I told you before." 

"I'm sorry, Nicole, we're just used to it since you're the boss's wife." she dropped the tomatoes in the sink. "What are you doing here?" she looked at her mother, confused. 

Chessa said something in Italian to her, and she turned back to me. "Oh, you really do not have to help out Nicole, there are dozens of maids here."

"Well, I want to help out. Are those freshly picked?" I pointed to the tomatoes. 

"They are. The garden in the back has any vegetable you may need for cooking."

"That's wonderful." I grinned, could this place get any better? "I was just asking Chessa here to show me the flour."

"It's on the top cabinet." she pointed. 

"Thank you." I grabbed a stool and pushed it to the cabinet she showed me. 

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Marie looked at me in horror.

"I am," I climbed up the chair smoothly thanks to my small body, and balanced myself on, before stretching out to take the large jar of flour. 

"See," I held the jar out for mother and daughter who stared at me like I would fall and break any moment.

"Oh my god," Anderson called, as he sauntered into the kitchen in quick steps. "What the f**k are you doing up there?" his voice was frantic, and he looked almost upset. 

"Can you all chill?" I passed the jar into Marie's waiting hands and made my way down. "I am not a fragile egg, and I will not break if I just climb up a stool." I pushed the strands of my hair from my face. 

"Why was she up there?" he looked at Chessa, but I could see that he was making a conscious effort to avoid Marie's eyes. 

"She can make her choices for herself," Marie retorted her expression had changed from terrified to annoyed or maybe pissed. 

Anderson shook his head and looked back at me, "What were you doing up there?" 

"Anderson, I was just getting some flour to make breakfast." 

"You were making breakfast?" his head snapped back to Chessa. 

"Yes, I was. I think I can choose to make breakfast for myself." I frowned.

"Unlike some people I know," Marie muttered, and I could swear she almost rolled her eyes at Anderson. 

Anderson heaved an exasperated sigh and walked to Chessa. There were a few word exchanges between them in Italian, and Anderson was doing his best to keep his cool. Finally, he spoke to me, "You know my brother will not be happy about this."

"I'll deal with that later," I took out a bowl and started breaking the eggs. "For now, tell me why you're here." 

He took a seat at the counter next to where Marie was standing with the Jar of flour, and she immediately shifted. It was almost unnoticeable, and I would not have noticed if I did not raise my head to ask for the jar. "I went to your room to check on you, but you weren't there, so I came here instead."

"Do you and your brother expect to have me locked up in the bedroom till I finally go crazy?" I snapped at him. 

"Easy...easy," he lifted his hands in defeat. "it was just a friendly gesture," 

I just made a small "hmm" and continued making the waffle mix. Marie walked over to the sink to wash the tomatoes, and Anderson got to his feet too. "So I heard you love to paint," he said, stretching out. 

"I do," my eyes widened, and I looked up at him, "Adrian said the art gallery was your idea." 

"It was mine, but he made it happen." he shrugged.

"God, I could hug you right now." 

"Please don't," he said sharply, and Marie laughed nervously from the sink. 

I chuckled and took the bowl of fruits from Chessa, who was helping me with breakfast but had not said a word since. "Well, I wasn't going to. But I do need a ride to the store to pick up some paint for the walls." 

"I would love to, but Adrian has to give his approval first..."

"As always," Marie snorted and turned back to us with a smile. 

Anderson looked at her, almost annoyed, but continued, "we need his approval because you're his wife," he said through gritted teeth, "and I'm sure we all know how Adrian is about you." 

"Well, I'm sure he would not be the same with someone else," Marie hissed without looking back at us. 

"If Adrian gives his permission, I'll take you there later today or tomorrow." Anderson continued, ignoring Marie. 

"Where is he, by the way?" I asked.

"Out making rounds. He should be back real soon, so you better not let him find you here." 

"Why are all so afraid of him?"

"I'm not." 

"That sounds so convincing," Marie taunted, and I was sure at this point they had a beef going on with each other, but I could not figure why. 

"Marie," Anderson warned, and I could see a vein in his jaw tick. 

She picked up another basket and turned to us. It felt like she was holding a sob as she spoke. "Please excuse me, everyone. I still have a few vegetables back at the garden." she did a small bow to Anderson, who just turned his face away and stormed out almost running. 

Anderson was with us for the next few minutes, but I could tell his attention was divided, as he kept missing what I was saying. He was also putting up a good effort not to keep flicking his eyes to the door. 

"Are you okay?" I asked as I put the waffle mix in the iron. 

"Oh, I'm great why?" 

"You kinda missed the third question." I half-smiled. 

"I'm sorry. I just remembered Adrian gave me some work to do. I have to get it done." he got to his feet. 

"That's fine, I just really wished you would have stayed to have a taste of what I made." I pouted. 

"I think I might already be in hot water for watching you even cook." he chuckled, "but leave them here," he looked at Chessa, "please send them up when I ask for breakfast." 

"Yes, sir." she nodded. 

He turned around the counter and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead. "Try to finish up before he gets back," he said, before heading out too. 

"What's with them?" I turned to Chessa, as our last company left. 

"Kids issues, I guess," she shrugged with a smile that did not reach her eyes. 

"Hmm," I nodded, unconvinced, but I did not press the issue any further. If there was really something up, I would find out and maybe resolve it if I could. Anderson and Marie were the two closest things to friends I had here, and the last thing I needed was to have them fighting too. 

A few minutes later, I finished with breakfast and cleared out everything on the counter, against Chessa's wishes of course. I took the jar of flour and asked for her help to hold it for me while I climbed up the stool again. She did so reluctantly and kept doing the cross on her chest as I climbed up. 

I chuckled and put the jar back up. She heaved a sigh of relief but took it back almost immediately, as a familiar deep voice boomed through the kitchen angrily. 

"What the hell is my wife doing on a stool?"