The Heir's Secret Obsession

◇ KEL ◇ His phone wasn't on loudspeaker, but I could hear enough. His dad just had this deep, clear-cut, and usually authoritative voice. I grabbed my satchel and pretended not to listen in as I unbuckled my seat belt. Ignoring Miles and his glances took some acting skills. I just didn't want him to think I was eavesdropping. He reclined beside me, frowning behind the wheel, his attention held by a phone call from his parents. An unexpected one, it seemed. Mr. Falco asked Miles another question while Miles parked in front of the house. "Sì, Pappa." Miles pulled the car keys out of the ignition before I stepped out of the passenger seat. "Er... Sì. Aspetti, forse verrò." His voice thinned. With his phone on his ear, Miles responded with more Italian phrases and hastily stepped out of his car, with a mild frown he often tried to hide every time he talked to his parents. Consistent and quite curiosity-piquing, but definitely none of my beeswax. Miles didn't talk to his family ofte

◇ KEL ◇"How's he doing?""Worse, of course," my sister muttered on the other line.I shut up after Jill's reply."Just hop on a flight. Say it's an emergency leave.""Would be nice if I had the option," I sighed as I furiously rubbed a soap-drenched sponge onto the floor tiles. I cursed myself in my head, well aware of the three things Miles hated about having a roommate.Number one on the list?Sharing.Being an only child—for 27 years and counting—"sharing" wasn't particularly present in his vocabulary. All of his friends knew Miles only took me in and let me cohabit with him in his uber-expensive property out of pure pity (my parents weren't filthy rich like his), and for that one time I helped him get rid of an apparently obsessive ex.Number two?Sharing a kitchen.And third on the list:Sharing a kitchen and having a roommate who didn't appreciate kitchen hygiene as much as he did. Yep. He could be such a neat freak, too.Raspberry syrup. It used to be my favorite—like, two hour

◇ KEL ◇My  mother's tone was not in distress, d

◇ KEL ◇The late dinner with Miles and his family had been fine and pleasant, but something in my chest just didn't feel right after overhearing his entire family talking to him about me.Every now and then I also thought of my father being stuck in Intensive Care again. Was he doing better? Unlikely, but I still hoped and prayed. Was there any chance he would recover from this long and depressing

◇ KEL ◇ It took me a while, but, finally! I figured it out. I let out a sigh, white mists coming out of my nose and mouth.The dimness only amplified my dark imagination. My skin just hated the bitingly cold horror-movie ambience of this place. "Miles?" I wrapped my arms around myself. I peered around the grass-covered space. To my utter confusion and horror, the paths diverged into more mazes. "Shit." This thing didn't end! Did anyone see me walking into this labyrinth? Anyone from the Falcos' security staff? Or one of the maids could've seen me. Moonlight was sparse in this side of the lot. Shadowed hedges towered over me by at least four feet. How did I even end up trapped in this creepy old maze? Ugh. I was just trying to find him. Perhaps Miles and his older cousin were hanging out somewhere in this impressive garden. This backyard could be the size of an entire football field, if I wasn't overcalculating. "Miles?" I called out. An old sweater covered half of my poor excu