“You need to relax Nastaya. Stop stressing. It was only a dream,” says Weston. My fiancé sits behind me as he massages my shoulders. He always does this to calm me down or at least to stop me from freaking out.
I turn to look him in his eyes. His eyes changed color. His eyes are usually gold and the color of honey suckles, but when he gets worried they turn a greyish green. Don’t ask me I have no clue. I let my eyes wonder down his Greek sculpted face and down to his muscular and lean chest. I let out a breath and look back into his eyes, the eyes that see everything, even if I don’t want them to.
“I... I can’t,” I say shakily. I really. really can’t. I sob and reluctantly let the tears fall down my face. God, I hate this. He hushes me and kisses my tears away. “It’s every night Wes. Every night I have this dream. I’m alive yet, they think I’m dead,” I whimper, tear after tear running down my face. He pulls me to him, my back against his chest. He places his chin on my shoulder and kisses the side of my neck. “They can’t hear me or see my movements, but I can hear and see them. My eyelids are closed and I can see them. They can’t see me,” I sob. “Oh god. Maybe I’m really going to die,” I whisper.
At that Weston pulls away from me and looks me harshly in the eyes. His greyish green eyes churning to a darker depth. “Damn it Nastaya, don’t you ever f***ing say that,” he chokes on his words. “Don’t you ever say that! You’re here to stay and I will make sure of that,” he whispers. He shakes me as he always does when he is overly concerned. “Do you understand me?” he asks I nod my head and he lays me down on the bed covering my mouth with sweet kisses and his spoken promise.
…
I wake up, wrapped in my fiancé’s arms. His arm is surrounding my waist and his leg draped over mine. I press a swift kiss to his forehead and sigh. Tears pool in my eyes, ready to cascade down my face. I squeeze my eyes trying to prevent them from pouring out from my eyes like the Niagara Falls. I sniffle and try to remove my fiancé’s limbs from mine. He shifts in his sleep and I hiss through my teeth. He. Cannot. Wake. Up.
It takes two minutes, but I finally get out of bed, clear of any unwanted attention. I slip my newly manicured toes in my leopard slippers and pad over to the mirror. I look into the mirror and sigh. Once again, I look like the walking dead. Yay, that’s what I get for not getting enough sleep.
My normally ash brown hair is plastered to my face from nightmares sweat and my face looks sunk in. My lips are pale pink and sculpted into a heart. My eyes are painted with purple from my lack of sleep, accentuating my greyish blue eyes. I keep my arms by my side and sigh. I pick up the brush on the side table by the mirror, and start combing my hair out. With each tug of the comb I feel the stress it puts on my hair and I wince.
As soon as I am done, I go to the walk in closet to pick out my outfit. “Nastaya, come back to bed. You know we don’t have to be up for an hour yet,” says Weston in his early morning, groggy voice. I can’t tell him that the reason I am getting up is to get room. I feel suffocated. I mean it isn’t him, but that dream. I got to figure out what it is and how to stop it.
…
“Hi!” chirps my assistant. I jump in my seat and swivel my chair to face her. “Good Morning Nastaya! You seem Jumpy,” she squeaks. I eye her and sigh. I rub my palm down my thighs and lay them in my lap. I am not ready for her chipper mood. I’m not ready to face anything today.
“What the hell do you want Candy?” I ask with venom. Ok, maybe I am being a bit harsh, but I am not in the mood for my mouse-like assistant. I look at my assistant as she cowers back. Just like a mouse. She stands there petrified to the spot in her regular name brand dress and shoes. “I’m sorry,” I apologize.
She nods her head. “Your meeting is in five ma’am,” she says shyly. I nod and show her the way out with my hand out to the side.
 

Chapter two

“As Jack said, we are a high end corporation. Couture Home Design is a Company that has been around for several years. We have designed homes for many and even the Mayor of Baltimore,” I say and smile. “We are currently doing business with Mrs. Davethfort. She has quite a….” I pause thinking of the right word to describe her remarkable tastes. “Interesting and exquisite taste,” I finish.
I look around at the people around me. I hate board meetings. Blah. Blah this. Blah. Blah. Blah that. How can we fix this? How can fix that? Men and women in horrid attire. Tann walls and black rolling chairs. Can it get any more boring?
Celeste, my second boss speaks up, “Mrs. Davethfort is quite the lady. So we have asked for Ms. Hart to tend to her tasteful needs. Please tell us Mrs. Nustaya,” she pauses and looks at me, drawing the eyes of the other sharks to me. She spreads her hands wide and leans back in her black chair, her hair cascading down the half of it. “How do you plan to design her deck?” She looks deep into my eyes and smirks. I. Hate. Her. She is the only one that hates me. For what, I have no clue.
I nod and all eyes stay glued to me, immune to Celeste’s glares. “So, Mrs. Amy or Daventhfort has what I mentioned before as exquisite tastes.” I sit up straighter in my chair. “I was thinking of a stone pathway leading from her patio door and winding around her pool. We can easily line three chaise lounges at the four sides of the pools. Beside each lounge chair we can have a small black side table. There are many things that we plan to do to accommodate Mrs. Amy. If it will please you, I have pictures to show what we shall do to redesign her back yard. These pictures can speak much more volume than my words,” I finish.
I look through my business portfolio and get out the pictures.

I lift up the pictures to give the sharks a better view and smile at my second boss, Celeste’s obvious hatred for its beauty. I turn to look at Jack who has a smile plastered to his face. He winks and I roll my eyes.
…

My secretary walks in and struts up to Jack. She bends down, exposing her cleavage and whispers in his ears. He tenses and turns to look at me. I shrink inside as my stomach plummets. I cross my legs and shift in my boss’s chair. He shoos Candy and his Adam’s apple bobs.
“I have some news for you that I feel will be unpleasant,” his face is set into a grim line and he sighs. He rubs his thumb and forefinger down his nose. “Your brother…. Kyler I believe it is, he is in Jail. It was said that he had set fire to his boss’s estate,” he says.
Heat boils within me and I scream inwardly. I. Am. Going. To kill him. He’s a dead man. I knew he was having issues, but this? This has gone too far. He’s twenty one NOT two.  I try to keep my composure and look at my boss. He looks at me with compassion for the situation.
He brings me out of my heated reverie. “The best thing I can think of to do is to give you the rest of today and half of tomorrow off. Go see him and see what is going on. Then you can go home and relax.”

Chapter three

Weston lays his hand down on my knee and continues driving, listening to me complain about my ignorant brother. “I just can believe he did that! What was he thinking? God, if mom and dad weren’t in the Caribbean they would have his ass. Really?!!! His boss’s house? How stupid could he be? I mean I know he had a rough childhood, we both did. It wasn’t like we weren’t both adopted. Anyway, that doesn’t give him and excuse,” I growl. He sighs and I let the side of my head fall against the car’s tinted window.
“It’s going to be okay. He just needs help. You know that. Your parents know that. He’s in a place that can help him,” he says looking through the windshield and at the road.
“Jail is NOT going to help him damn it. My brother…” I choke. “Oh my god, he was a good child…. What happened to him,” I whisper. We pull in the jail’s visitor parking lot and I let out a long breath that I didn’t know I held in.
He shuts off the ignition and we just sit there for several minutes. I rather sit here then go inside. I hug myself and look out the window and at the Jail. A cold shiver runs up my spine, sending a tremor down my body.
He gets out of the car and comes over to my side. He opens the door, takes my hand and shuts the door with his foot. “He can’t hurt anyone if he is surrounded by guard’s baby. He is going to be okay. I know you’re concerned and pissed at your brother but try to stay calm for me and him will you?” He asks. He turns me to face him and looks me in the eyes. “Nastaya, did you hear me?”
I nod and look into his deep and calculating eyes. He knows that I will fly off the hinge if I get a chance. I hate how he knows everything. “Yes,” I swallow hard and tears form in my eyes. “I will try,” I finish, trying to hold back the waterfall forming in my eyes.
He presses his lips to mine and then to my temple. My sweet fiancé, always looking out for me.
…

I lean back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest. I’m pretty sure, Kyler is uncomfortable. Good, he deserves it. “Sooooo…..” he says.
I give him the evil eye and the silence continues. Weston wanted me to play nice. He didn’t say anything about staring him down. Weston is the first the break the silence. “Dude, you f***ed up you know that right? Your sister here,” he says patting my knee. “…Is royally ticked at you. What made you do what you did?” Weston asks. I suck in a breath. I was waiting for him to ask that.
My brother shrugs like it’s no big deal and anger bursts like an inferno inside of me. I start to get up so I can reach over and strangle the crap out of him, but Weston grabs me by the wrists. I turn to glare at him, but his eyes plead me to calm down. I sit down slowly and with reluctance. My brother is lucky Weston is with me.
“My boss raped one of my co-workers. He deserved a lot more than what I did,” he says with a laugh. I want to slap that idiotic sneer of his face.
“Damn it Kyler, they gave you a felony Arson charge and a five thousand dollar fine. What the hell were you thinking? Actually don’t tell me, I am disgusted with you. I do not want to know,” I say with malice.
He looks at me, shocked by my reaction. I don’t see why he is shocked. “You’re lucky; I am the first to get to you. Mom and dad would have killed you,” I whisper with quiet surrender. “What were you thinking,” I sob. Weston wraps his arm around my waist and kisses my temple. “I don’t know if your boss raped her or not, but that still doesn’t give you the right to burn his house down to ash and dust. You could have reported him and sent him to this hell hole you’re in. God, did you even think,” I say with horror. 
He sits there still stunned by my reaction. “I…wasn’t thinking. I am so sorry,” he pleads. I look into his eyes and see the guilt he carries. He serves the guilt, but another part of me says what he did was justice. Why am I so conflicted?
“Sorry isn’t going to get you out of here,” I say with hurt. I turn to the guard with a fake smile. “We are done here,” I tell him. I look at Weston. “Let’s go. Kyler needs to figure this out himself.” I look at my brother one last time before standing up, hand in hand with Wes and heading out the jail cell.
…

I get a call from me and Kyler’s adoptive parents. I ignore the call twice, but they continue to be persistent. I lift my head off of Wes’s chest and ask him with my eyes. He doesn’t care if I talk to my family, but I ask him anyway.
I sigh and hit talk. I lift the IPhone to my ear and say a cheery hello. Cheery my ass.
“Hey darling. We are back from Vacation,” she says with joy. That grabs my attention and my head snaps up from Wes’s chest. They can’t be home. Why would they come back early? They never have before. I sit up and sigh. Weston sits up beside me and rubs my back.
What’s wrong, he mouths. I whisper and tell him that my parents are back.
I look at the phone and place it back on my ear. “Oh that’s nice, you’re back early,” I say, trying to smooth out my uneven and shaky voice. Crap, they are going to come home and figure out Kyler got arrested. What do I do?
“Yeah,” she laughs and sighs. “We had a great time, but something popped up,” she says, he voice getting darker. S***. “Did you know your brother is in jail?” I gulp. No s***. She already knew. Now he’s screwed.
…
“She already knew?” Weston asks. I nod and watch as he pads across the room and gets his shirt on and a pair of pants.
I laugh somberly. “Yep. We don’t usually get anything past her. You should know that,” I say and laugh at the memory of my adoptive mother meeting Wes for the first time.
He fakes a shiver. “I still think she wants to hang me from that tree in her back yard. Sometimes I wonder if she is watching our every move. God…I love my soon to be mother in law, but we are going to have to move,” he says with a laugh.