Foolishly Falling for You

34

Anita

It seems I am dealing with Admiral Lance Mendoza, a sterner more demanding version of my husband. He speaks in clear, calm commands. I see why he's such an effective Admiral. I am somehow weak to it, perhaps I'm just used to following demands. However, my warden has gone to meet Michael for news about the front, and in time, I received an invitation from my father.

They only contact me when Lance is gone. I suspect one of the servants reports to the Duke. The thought is disturbing, and it breeds a need for...clarity. A clarity I cannot partake in, lest Warden Admiral Lance Mendoza finds me...well I'm unsure how intends to punish me but I don't want to find out.

The invitation is less of an invitation and more of a demand, something I seem to encounter more and more these days.

Lance is not much for appearances, but he does enjoy privacy. It's not like him to explain my new...situation to the maids. I dress and leave without question, heading toward the Duke's house. My old home. The shaking of the carriage does nothing for the nausea bubbling up. My knees knock. I wouldn't go, but he'll just come to me.

My marital home has become something of a safe haven. Imagining him contaminating that space...I fear I would never find peace again. I wouldn't be able to eat or sleep without seeing him. I can't let him ruin any more than he already has. I console myself with thoughts of the home on the corner. Ironically, these thoughts, even after Lance's new rules, now include visits from my ex-husband.

Though I still do not want to love him...he's become something akin to a friend. I can imagine him, stopping by, waving with a small smile, demanding of me to be well.

It's almost endearing. It is no longer a wish, that I am well. He demands it, rather than requesting it. I smile to myself, soothed for a moment.

And then the moment passes, and the carriage stops. I face my childhood home. I look away from it like I look away from my body, and anything else that holds my childhood. I swallow roughly, the footman helping me out of my carriage. I shake, losing my balance a bit, as I walk toward the entrance. The door opens, and there sits my father, a man I scarcely saw even in childhood.

I sit down across from him, shifting. "Hello, Duke Castillo."

My father's hair has gone grey, making him appear softer and kinder. I know neither is true. He is still a cruel and vicious man.

"I will grant you the divorce," He states. "And you will return home."

I look down. He doesn't provide me tea or refreshments, but he sips on his own. I am not a guest.

I am a prisoner here. I look unseeing at the wooden table between us. "I..."

"There is no discussion," he informs me. "So there is no need for you to return to the admiral's home. I will ensure the divorce goes smoothly. Go to your room."

I swallow. I'm frozen. If I get trapped here, I will die. I know that much is true.

"Do you understand me, girl?"
"Lance will never agree to that," I mutter.

He scoffs. "I am a Duke. He is a mere Admiral. I don't need his permission to take you. You belong to me."
I need to get away.

I stand, and carefully make my way to the door, opening it. He doesn't stand. Don't rebuke me, or hurt me. My carriage is gone. Tears well up in my eyes. I'm trapped.

I close the door, watching my freedom disappear. "I
cannot—"

"You will."

Maids appear on either side of me. I bite down on my lips tasting blood. I will be whipped again, I'm sure, for defying him. My life is over. My dream dies.

The door opens, announcing my savior with a creak.

"I challenged your son to a duel but he was not inclined to fight me. I suppose you will be even less inclined, old man."

I freeze. Lance.

Lance throws a young man on the floor at the feet of my father. "Curious, that your correspondence always occurs when I have plans to be gone. Now I know why. I am returning your spy."

"Go upstairs girl," My father demands.
Lance scoffed. "Come here, Anita."
I blink, shuffling toward him.

"I will not be divorcing her, and she will not be returning to this godforsaken estate until you die and it is transferred in her name," Lance informs him, stalking toward him. "Your correspondence will be thrown out upon arrival and so will you if you show up at my door."

My father smiles. "I will have you killed on the front boy,"

Lance nods and puts his hand on my Father's shoulder. "You shall certainly try. However, the King has fallen out of favor with you. You've grown cocky,"

Lance leans forward. "And it has been a long time since you've served nobility or anyone but yourself."
Lance steps back and takes my hand. "I am Admiral Lance Mendoza. She is no longer your daughter. She is not girl. She is not your property. Her name is Anita Mendoza, and she does not answer to your demands."

My father turns red, seething. I've seen that face. It ends in pain for me. Can Lance even stand against him? He meets my eye. "You know what I am going to do to you, don't you, girl?"

Lance stands between us. "Go to the carriage, Anita."
I swallow but stand still. He glances back at me and gives me an encouraging smile. "Now."

I take the out, hurrying toward the carriage, out of the reach of the monster I've been running from since I was born. Michael is there. I sit next to him and clear my throat. Michael smiles gently.

"Mrs. Mendoza," He nods softly. "It's good to see you doing well."

Is that how I look? Well?

"Michael," I greet him. "It's been a while since I've seen you."

Michael nods. "I have been busy. I am sorry that I haven't had time to call on you. You seem to be doing better."

I smile. "I think I am,"

Lance enters the carriage looking between the two of us. "I didn't know you two were on friendly terms," He grunts, getting into the seat next to me, putting his hand on my thigh and squeezing. My heart skips a beat or two. He taps the top of the carriage and we begin moving. Our shoulders touch, something zinging in every incidental brush as the carriage forces us other to touch.

"We met briefly when he delivered your letter a few weeks back. Had some tea," I smile.

Michael has smile lines, They crinkle as he grins, so often the opposite of my husband, who raises his brow inquisitively, his face otherwise even, as normal.

"You should've introduced your lovely wife to me earlier. I am your best friend."

Lance huffs. "Part of what makes her so lovely is her unwillingness to socialize. And we are not best friends. We are... acquaintances at best."

I press my lips in a thin line, holding back my laughter at Michael's offended expression. They are not just best friends, he happens to be Lance's only friend, a fact, I'm sure, that does not elude either of them. But his insistence on keeping Michael at a distance is almost cute. Even though it's so clear he's lying, he denies their friendship, like a child denying a crush with a red face. Ironic how I'm smiling even though I just barely escaped with my life.

"We are so very clearly best friends," Michael protests.

"Enough of this. Michael, I consider you very useful. Now be quiet."

Lance doesn't wait for him to answer instead turning to me. "You are well?"

I nod softly. He gives me a stiff nod back. "He is not to contact you and you are not to contact him. Do you understand?"

"Is that any way to speak to your wife," Michael complains. "Honestly, you're so callous—"

"I understand," I whisper. "You didn't bring your cane."

Lance squeezes my thigh and looks back at Michael, calmly chastising him. Michael argues back, reminding him of his cane, or lack of it. I look down at his hand, settling firmly on my thigh, grounding. I look out the window and say nothing else. I don't hate the ride back, even though it is bumpy.