Loss Is Loss
1144 Words
"Who could have possibly left this" Dora's concerned voice asked as the stared at the ring on the bed.
"It could be anyone" Aanya said as she twisted the fine piece of art between her fingers. Things like this were not rare in her part of the world. Someone was sending a message — one that could mean anything.
Was it one of their enemy camps?
Had her father pissed of someone.
She had a feeling there was more to this than what met the eye and a part of her didn't want to find out — though she could never deny the tiny excited whisper in her head.
**************
Dora hated grocery shopping. Crowds. Slow walkers. Men who thought “excuse me” was optional.
After last night's gift from their uninvited guest, they badly needed an escape from their thoughts. Aanya didn't seem perturbed about it though Dora was rattled. So they headed to a bar and Aanya was having the worst hangover.
Aanya was on the couch nursing a hangover, and they were out of milk and ice cream—the essentials of survival.
She balanced her basket on one hip and reached for the last pint of pistachio gelato.
So did someone else.
Their hands collided.
“Seriously?” she snapped, looking up.
The man beside her was tall—dark hair, sharp jaw, and a face carved like he knew it was worth more than hers. He arched a brow, clearly unimpressed by her tone.
“I saw it first,” he said coolly, not moving his hand.
Dora scoffed. “Your hand was half an inch slower.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is today.”
She yanked the pint free with a smirk and tossed it into her basket.
He watched her with an expression that hovered somewhere between amused and annoyed. “You’re the kind of person who takes the last slice of cake at a funeral, aren’t you?”
She blinked. “Are you comparing gelato to grief?”
“Loss is loss.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “Get a therapist.”
He followed a few steps behind—just enough to annoy her. “You always this annoying in public?”
“No,” she said without turning around. “I’m usually worse.”
“I can tell.”
She stopped short at the self-checkout, spinning on him. “Why are you still talking to me?”
“Why are you still responding?”
Dora scoffed. Arrogant bastard.
Their eyes locked again, and for a heartbeat the air felt… heavy. Not romantic. Just hot with irritation and pride.
Dora forced a laugh and scanned the gelato with a theatrical beep. “You’ll live without the ice cream. Probably.”
He gave a tight smile, like he’d just added her to a list.
And walked away.
Dora watched him go, muttering under her breath. “Asshole.”
She didn’t know it yet—but that was the man her parents were arranging her future with.
And the worst part?
He hated pistachio.
******
“Men are officially the worst breeds alive,” Dora’s voice echoed through the apartment as she kicked the door shut with her foot.
Aanya, curled up under a blanket on the couch, didn’t even lift her head. “You hate every man, Dora. I bet this one didn’t even have to try hard to get into your Book of All Men Are Annoying.”
“This one really is annoying.”
“Yeah, I bet. That’s the same thing you’ve said about every guy who’s breathed in your direction.” Aanya yawned. “What happened?”
Dora dropped the grocery bag with dramatic flair and flopped onto the armchair. “I had a full-blown argument in the middle of the frozen aisle with some smug, entitled—ugh—Gelato Grinch.”
Aanya peeked out from under the blanket, one brow raised. “Gelato Grinch?”
“Don’t ask.” Dora waved a hand. “He tried to take the last pistachio gelato.”
“So you fought him for it?”
“I won, obviously.”
“Of course.”
“But that’s not even the worst part. He compared ice cream to grief, Aanya. GRIEF. He said—and I quote—‘loss is loss.’ Over gelato.”
Aanya burst out laughing. “What kind of emotionally repressed ice cream philosopher did you run into?”
“The worst kind. Tall. Rich-looking. That face that screams ‘I get away with everything.’”
“Mm.” Aanya pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “Sounds like your type.”
“Don’t disrespect me like that.”
Aanya laughed again.
“No, I’m serious. He had the nerve to follow me through the aisle like some passive-aggressive gelato ghost. And then he had the audacity to smile like he’d just added me to his little ‘to destroy’ list.”
“You mean like you do when someone steals your charger?”
Dora pointed a finger at her. “Exactly.”
Aanya grinned. “Well, cheers to the Gelato Grinch. May your next encounter be just as traumatizing.”
“Oh, if I ever see him again, I’m throwing a frozen pizza at him.”
Little did she know, she wouldn’t just see him again—she’d be expected to marry him.
***********
The folder sat unopened on the table now. He didn’t need to look at it again.
Sebastian leaned back in the leather chair, his expression unreadable as Atticus waited across from him, still standing. The silence stretched. Tension pooled in the room like smoke—thick, slow, deliberate.
“Set up eyes on her,” Sebastian said finally.
Atticus blinked. “Aanya Darlington?”
Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver. “I want location, routine, contacts. Nothing sloppy. She’s not to know.”
“She’s been off the radar for years. You think she’s involved in something again?”
“No,” he said, quiet. “I think she’s about to be.”
Atticus hesitated. “The Darlington family’s our oldest enemy. Watching their heir might start a war we’re not ready to finish.”
“Then we don’t get caught.” Sebastian stood, smoothing his sleeves. “I want a full report by the end of the week. And Atticus—”
“Yes, boss?”
“Don’t assign anyone who talks too much. If she even senses someone’s tailing her, I’ll know who to bleed first.”
Atticus gave a small nod and disappeared out the door.
Sebastian turned back to the city lights outside his window. His reflection stared back at him—hard lines, harder eyes.
He wasn’t interested in the girl.
Just the threat she might pose.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
- Writer
