Dressed in Yellow: BBW Contemporary Romance (3 page)

“Nothing is perfect,” Aiva said.

She reached for another piece of homemade shortbread when the doorbell rang.

Rising, she brushed crumbs off her lap and approached the door, opening it after peeking through the hole.

“Yes?”

A liveried deliveryman stood with a white garment box, holding an electronic clipboard.

“Aiviana Losito?”

“Yes, that’s me. I’m not expecting-”

He shoved the clipboard under her nose. She signed, taking the box and closing her door.

“What is it?” Mandira asked. “A present? Oooohhh.”

“Who would send me a present? It’s not my birthday or anything.”

Aiva sat on the couch, pushing bright yellow and blue accent pillows out of the way, balancing the box on her lap, peeling the little bits of clear tape from the edges. When she opened the box and pushed aside plain white tissue paper, for a moment she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Then she drew the carefully folded yards of silky shimmery sari fabric from the box, Mandira silently helping her to drape the entire length across the couch so they could examine the colors and patterns.

“It’s vintage, isn’t it?” Mandira asked.

“Yes.” And expensive. The kind of fabric she spent months sourcing to make the little purses and pillows she sold in the shop- and the kind of fabric she used to make clothing for herself when she had time to indulge in her hobby. People often asked where she bought her dresses and skirts- and she never answered. Because she didn’t buy them anywhere. She made them from old patterns she purchased from eBay and other antique shops.

“Look in the box. There might be a card.”

Aiva picked the tissue out of the box and shook it. A small envelope fell out. Scooping it off the floor, she pulled out the square card and read the brief message.

Waiting on the offer I can’t refuse.

She tossed the card in the box, examining the sari fabric once again. Aiva’s lips curved in spite of herself. It would have been silly to send her flowers, and chocolates were too...pedestrian. The gift he had sent her showed he’d done his homework. He’d sent her a gift that would mean something to her- something she could use, cherish, and create beautiful things with.

“Very clever,” she said aloud.

Mandira looked at her curiously, shifting between feet. “Come on, who sent it.”

“Leon Sudano.”

“Who’s that?”

“A...business man. A very wealthy, successful businessman.”

“Why is he-” Mandira’s hazel eyes widened. “Is he hitting on you?”

“Honorable men from the old country don’t ‘hit’ on women.”

Mandira rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Has he asked you out? Of course he did, and you said no, or he wouldn’t be trying to bribe you with presents.” Mandira sighed. “Oh, Aiva. How long has it been since you went on a date. Is he ugly?”

“Hardly.” Aiva began to fold the fabric carefully. “I shouldn’t accept this, but damn the man, he knew exactly what to tempt me with.”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?” Mandira grinned, a tinge of glee in her face and darted off to the kitchen table where their laptops were sitting. “I’m going Google him. Rich, huh? We’ll see in just a minute.”

Aiva sighed.

Chapter

3

Daniel continued to harass her throughout the week. Aiva barely tolerated his presence, and only because she was contractually obligated. His fixation on the increasing media coverage due to the shutdown of the main street by who were now dubbed the “BeeKeepers” had him breathing down her neck to do something.

“What do you want me to do, Daniel?” Aiva asked, patience gone. They stood in the stock room, arguing as loudly as they dared. “I brought them here for this exact purpose. To create a storm of traffic and publicity so Mandira can stand outside and direct traffic right into my business. We’ve expanded our product line to include gardening supplies, organic seeds, purses made from hemp. It’s good for business. You should get that.”

“It ain’t good for business when this place is being ousted as one of my ventures. If I wanted my enemies to know where they can hit me, I’d just put up a big flashy sign that said, ‘Yo, Danny’s money lives here. Come take it.’“

Aiva rolled her eyes. “Come on. No one is going to mess with a flower shop.”

“Oh yeah?” He glared at her. “And I got a visit from the Fed’s today. They sniffing around tryin’ to figure out if this is a front.”

Aiva folded her arms. No gal worth her salt in this particular community got nervous at the mention of the law. “They can sniff around all they want. This is my business, and I run it clean. There is nothing for them to sniff.”

Daniel took a step closer to her, leaning into her in a way that made her skin crawl. When Leon had closed space, her body had felt light, tingling with anticipation. She’d anticipated the challenge of dealing with him. But Daniel- she felt sorry for whoever his woman was.

Because her cousin wouldn’t leave her alone to run her business, she decided to take the matter above his head.

***

“Ms. Losito,” the grandfatherly looking man emerged from his office door, approaching her with hands out. Iron-grey hair and fit form, Daniel’s superior- the many her cousin reported to- was the epitome of a well ageing high-ranking soldier. Fit, calm, and competent.

Aiva placed her hands in his and he raised her knuckles to his lips, chuckling. “Ah, the benefit of advanced age,” he said. “I can kiss the hand of a beautiful woman, and her brothers won’t come after me with a shot gun.”

Aiva smiled despite herself. Paulo’s charm was legendary. “You, they should come after,” she said. “You’re a charming bastard.”

He laughed. “Still blunt. Come, come. Let’s sit in the office. I was surprised to hear you wanted to speak with me.”

He led her into his office, shutting the door behind him and giving them the illusion of privacy. Soldiers sat in the lobby, and patrolled the grounds. She was certain there were microphones which could be turned on or off at Paulo’s will.

Aiva sat in the chair in front of him, smoothing her full yellow and blue flowered skirt underneath her, crossing her feet at the ankles.

“Paulo, you know I have a contract with my cousin Daniel.”

He frowned at her. “I do. I don’t approve of it. The terms are not appropriate for a cousin.”

She lowered her eyes. She knew he referred to the terms that...could...imply that if she defaulted that the service she was to provide him in lieu of payment be of a more personal nature. Usually, between relatives, these things were no more than cooking, cleaning, and running errands. Many a woman signed contracts like these when they found themselves in hard straits, basically putting themselves in the protection of a male of sufficient rank to support and protect her in return.

“I’m confident I can meet my obligations. But I need time for the strategy I’ve chosen to work.”

“Hmm.” He sat back in his chair. “The media ruckus. Clever, that. Though not what I might have done in your place. But effective. It shows some thinking.” He tapped his temple. “I like thinking in a young person. Gives me hope we’re not leaving things behind to morons.”

“Yes, well, Danny has been pressuring me to get rid of the BeeKeepers, rather than ride it out naturally. His insistence is interfering with me running the business.”

“And you want me to muffle him, eh?”

“Well... maybe if you suggested he lay off and let me do my job...”

“I’ll talk with him. But what will you give an old man in return?”

She rose, smiling, and rounded the desk. “You are not an old man. Don’t shame me.”

His eyes twinkled in delight as she lowered her face and gave him a proper kiss. A gentlemen, he didn’t press for more, or take advantage and slap her ass. She appreciated his class.

“Ah, if I were just ten years younger,” Paulo said with a sigh. “Then your brothers might have to come after me with a shotgun.”

***

Because it was Sunday, and Aiva didn’t feel like cooking- again- she went to her childhood home for dinner after leaving Paulo. Most of the clan was gathered. Her brothers and their wives, the ones who were married. Her mother, father, and grandmother. Assorted cousins who lived in the area and her parent’s siblings. A small house in her youth, the success f her parents’ restaurant had allowed them to build up, and out to accommodate the multitude of relatives.

“It’s the Bee Girl!” her father shouted when she entered the front door.

She stopped short. “Really, Pa?”

Her mother approached, enveloping her in a hug and kiss. “We saw you speak to the news people on the television, dear. Those brave folks- lying in the street like that because of bees.”

“It’s important, Ma. The bees are dying because of global warming. IF they die it will interrupt the food chain.”

Her mother’s forehead wrinkled.

“No more wheat crops to make pasta, Ma.”

The older woman’s expression cleared and she smacked Aiva on the arm. “Don’t sass me, girl. I’m not stupid.”

Aiva voided rolling her eyes and dived into the crowd of family, friends, and neighbors who’d all wandered in for a plate and conversation. The noise would have frightened the faint of heart. Aiva sat at the table in the midst of it, enjoying homemade ravioli stuffed with lamb and feta- her mother experimenting with Mediterranean-Italian fusion. Usually, she tried new dishes out on the family before bringing them to the restaurant.

Daniel slid into the seat next to her, having been recently vacated by a cousin who came to eat, and run.

“How’s the ravioli?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s good. Not traditional.”

His eyebrow rose. “You ain’t much of a traditional gal, yourself, cousin.”

Aiva said nothing, pointedly looking at his full plate. He smiled, continuing to stare at her, and took a bite of his lasagna.

“So, I’m curious, and I thought maybe you could enlighten me a little. Why are both Leon Sudano and Paulo so interested in you?”

Aiva wasn’t quite silly enough to choke n her pasta, though the fork did pause on its way to her mouth.

“I wasn’t aware either was...interested in me.”

Danny’s eyes glinted. “Come on, Aiva. You have a better poker face than that. So what’s up? Leon Sudano. Start with him. We’ll get to you going over my head in a minute.”

She pushed pasta around her plate. “There is nothing to get to. You know more about Sudano than I do.”

“Then why’s he sweating me about buying out your contract?”

She shrugged. “He likes flowers? Or the color yellow?”

Her cousin leaned towards her, lowering his voice. “Don’t make me smack you around, Aiva.”

Setting her fork down, she took a second to consider her response. “You could try to smack me around,” she replied, voice equally low. “I’m not sure if you would
survive
smacking me around.
Cousin.
”

Their eyes locked, mean dark on angry dark, the doorbell going off in the background. Aiva barely registered it, other than to wonder fleetingly why the person didn’t just come in. The door was never locked. When silence descended- relative silence, anyway- she tore herself away from the staring contest and twisted in her seat, looking past the open arch of the dining room into the entryway hall, and only then because of Danny’s sudden stiffness.

Leon stood inside the door, a brown bag in his arms, sheepish look on his face.

Aiva’s mother rushed towards him. “Mr. Sudano! This is a surprise.”

He smiled at the older woman. “I hope I’m not intruding. I was in the neighborhood speaking with a friend and asked about a good place to go for a plate of home cooked pasta and he swore the best was here on Sunday night.”

Lydia took his coat, ushering him through the entry way and into the dining room.

“Sit, sit,” she said. “Maury, get the boy a plate of the new raviolis. And some salad. You children don’t eat enough green stuff.”

Leon sat in a hastily vacated chair with an air of meekness. Right next to Aiva.

“Danny,” her mother called. “Go help Maury in the kitchen with the men’s sauce.”

Her cousin didn’t dare protest- especially not with her father eyeballing him to make sure his wife’s orders were obeyed in her own home. Danny placed a hand on Aiva’s briefly, pressing hard enough to make a point, then got up.

“The men’s sauce?” Leon asked.

“A secret recipe known only to the men of the family,” she replied evenly. “They make a pot of it every family meal. They make a big drama out of it.”

He lifted the brown bag in his arms. “I brought wine. And dessert.”

She turned her head, eyes narrowing. “I thought you said you just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

He blinked, expression innocent. “Did I? Hmm.” Leaning towards her, his lips almost touched her ear. “Whenever I’m in your presence, my dear, it is never by accident.”

Warm breath tickled the inside of her ear. Aiva stiffened, the sensation a new one, setting off a tingle that ran down her body to key parts in a way she hadn’t realized possible.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

Leon smiled. “Having dinner.”

They played cat and mouse for the next hour. Aiva rose on the auspices of having finished her meal. Another female cousin readily took her seat next to Leon. Aiva escaped into the living room and sandwiched herself between her brothers.

Saltano eyed her. “Hey, Pa, maybe we should start bringing home some decent guys for Aiva. She’s at that age, you know?”

Aiva glared at him. “What age? What age!”

Andrew snorted, sipping on a red wine. Saltano slung an arm around her. “The age for you to get married. A good girl, from a good family. Nice curves, a little business sense. I don’t think you cook much anymore, but no woman is perfect, eh?”

“Don’t you dare try to fix me up.”

Their father approached, taking a few minutes to cajole one of the toddlers out of his chair. When finally seated, he fixed his only daughter with a stern gaze.

“Your brother is right, Aiviana. It’s high time you started courting. If you get too much older-”

“I wouldn’t go
there
, Pa,” Saltano cut in hastily.

“You guys are going to make me have to ask for Protection,” she half joked.

“From who?” Saltano retorted. “Who would you rather have rights over you to guard you, act on your behalf? Your brothers, or some man in the community?”

Aiva rose, smoothing the skirt of her dress carefully, and stalked from the living room. It was
clearly
time for dessert.

Which she took and escaped out of the house and into the back yard with. There was a small gazebo tucked in a corner her father and brothers built years ago... that had been a long summer. She sat on the bench and dug her spoon into her first bite of sweetened cream and sponge cake, closing her eyes to enjoy the taste and the quiet.

As if she would ever ask any man for Protection. Something like that was a last resort, an appeal to a man of power in the community to guard you from someone who wanted to do you harm. But it meant that that Protector could do what he wanted with you in repayment. For as long as he wanted, until he considered the debt satisfied. Not quite like the contract she’d signed with Daniel- the contract had terms and parameters. Protection… for women that was usually more permanent than marriage.

“Did I pick the right dessert?” Leon asked.

She opened her eyes. “Homemade would have been better.”

He stepped into the gazebo, sitting next to her. “Not my homemade. I can’t cook. Horrible thing, isn’t it? I’m taking lessons, though.”

“Get a wife,” she said without thinking.

He smiled, and even in the darkness the flash of his teeth clearly shone. “I’ve been trying. I can’t quite find the right girl.”

“You’re probably too picky,” she replied. She could just imagine his wish list- some slim, sweet natured young thing who could make a perfect scratch noodle, pressed the sheets fresh out of the dryer, was waiting for him with a glass of wine at the end of the day. She suppressed a shudder, sitting her empty plate on the ground next to her.