The Besotted

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Not me running into the Lana woman looking like she had one hell of a night outside Mr Sin's building.

She looks really good in a long navy coat with gold linings and buttons, nude coloured stilettos, and a golden slip dress. Brown hair, the right kind of messy. She has been put to that good use, I see.

There's a car waiting by curb with a driver opening the door and everything. Rich people things.

Now I know she knows but she passes me like I'm not even here so fuck her too then.

She slides in the back, driver closes the door and I see her head turning in my direction before she rolls the black windows shut.

I didn't slow down to look at her or anything, I'm so busy texting my mom so I keep my pace and walk to the big glass doors. Why everything needs to be glass these days is beyond me.

I stunt into the lobby and heels echoing in the morning silence.

The manager and his lackeys are already gathered around their large desk. They pauses and murmur some shit I can't hear when they see that it's me.

Not even sparing them a second glance, I throw my middle finger up and keep it there as I walk passed their glares.

Everything and everyone can suck it today.

I hate that I have to use the main elevator through the main floor but Zayn said that private one is locked, whatever that means so he called to give the pin that'll give this one access to the penthouse suite and that just means having to go through the foyer and the kitchen and a hallway to get to back to change when I finally make it up to the suite.

And that means I could run into the boss at any moment on the long journey. I haven't run into him in a couple of weeks but I know he's been around.

I hope he's not around today either, he puts me on edge and I already have enough going on in my head. I'm starting to feel the my stress down my neck, the tension is kind of painful.

But life once again clearly never seems care about my pain because here he is in his great expanse of a kitchen, coffeemug and iPad in hand.

The suite suddenly feels smaller.

Why on this one day I just want let my guard down and try to think clearly?

I still haven't seen my daughter, my soul is tearing apart. All I get are sporadic phone calls where I just listen to her get distracted by whatever's near her.

I can't even video call anymore, thanks to my wonderful brother.

I mumble a low, "Morning." To the Mr Sin as I pass through the kitchen. There's no precedence to how I'm supposed to deal with whatever the hell his problem is with me, I don't know how to exactly act around him.

It can't just be because I mildly let him infer that race thing, that was weeks ago. I got over the hooker thing, why can't he let shit go?

"Good morning," His is clear and strong.

But I think I might have made a break when I walk past the island, past him on the other side leaning against the counter.