Author's Note:
I was initially planning for this to be sorta light-hearted/slice of life-ish, but too many good plots popped out and I just had to convert to the dark side. For now I still have a large amount of loose ends but be ready for a pretty long and hopefully amusing/interesting story.
Enjoy.
Prologue
There was always something you forgot before you left the house. Usually, you found that the keys were missing from your pockets or that you heard your phone call in the distance, leading you to hurry back inside and grab it before also shutting the window you had forgotten to close. But today—having checked all your pockets and bags for surely the hundredth time—you were saying goodbye to the sad, dilapidating hovel of a house. You were leaving what had been your beloved home for the last couple of years, your private sanctuary away from the world's cruelty, to spend your summer in hell. Just the thought of it made you feel bile rise in the back of your throat, threatening to make you hurl even before the torturous five-hour drive that was awaiting you. The whole thing sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but a promise was a promise and you really, really needed the money.
After a quick detour to your favorite coffeehouse, you were on the road again. The needlessly expensive drink pumped your veins with its addicting caffeine and suddenly, you weren't as sullen as before. You turned on your ancient radio and hummed the lyrics to a song you vaguely recognized before the singer's soothing tone was replaced with an annoying advertisement about dating online. Wearily, you switched between channels, more out of idleness than that you were searching for something interesting to hear, until a strict, professional voice caught your attention and you turned up the volume.
"...more and more rumors surface that Garrison Global's operating system 'Maria' carries the virus T1T4N, commonly known as 'Titan'. Investigations led by the Survey Corporation have revealed several faults in the system, all supposedly caused by the virus, and their spokesperson confirm that they suspect this years unusually high amount of stolen identities and personal data is due to Titans in Maria. Garrison Global has yet to make a public statement and the Central Military Brigade refused to comment on the situation."
You were suddenly happy you had spent a fortune on upgrading your laptop to the latest edition of Rose and kept listening intently, almost missing a critical turn to the right. A car behind you honked disapprovingly.
"...Maria became a world phenomena a decade ago year with its clean and easy design, cheap price and worldwide availability. Survey Corporation claimed already at the developing stage of the project that its firewall and anti-virus software were too weak to stand against Titan, but as they were unable to prove it, they were forced to retract their statement. It was still enough to make some people doubtful but after a weak initial launch week, it broke countless of past records and put Garrison Global on the top with Reiss International. That is all for now, Jill. We'll be discussing about Maria, Titan and more at seven o'clock tonight with our expert, Tom."
"Thank you, Michael. Moving on to the weather…"
You returned to a music broadcaster. The news about Maria were troubling and you didn't like the fact that the government still hadn't found whoever was behind Titan yet. That virus had caused your father trouble for far too long, being one of the main developers of Maria and an extremely high-ranking employee at Garrison Global. It had been months since you'd last heard of him and even though he'd almost always call during the weekends, you knew that he was busier with work than ever before and didn't bother calling him first.
As the hours dragged by, the scenery vastly changed. The dirt and the grime of the city was replaced with green, lush woods and endless fields of grass and wheat. The large cement buildings, the boutiques and the shopping centers, the suburban areas and the worn schools gave away for the nature and an occasional village or two. The flat landscape stretched as far as your sight could reach; tiny gatherings of trees surrounded farms with long intervals, their branches swaying gently with the wind; the clouds and the sky were kissed with the color of dawn: tender orange, fresh blue and soft cotton candy white. You recalled the many times you had traveled this exact road when you were younger—for more than a decade ago to be exact—when your parents were still married and your mother fervently insisted on visiting your current destination.
Sunshine Haven.
The word was a curse in your mouth. The foulest word you knew. Still, you, who had thought you would never have to see the place again, were currently in a car and rushing towards the fancy resort as if someone close to you and lived there were dying. And that was certainly not the case.
Your mother owned a bistro there, a very fine establishment with a successful history and influential customers. But now that she had married a Gary, they were heading away to some exotic place to spend their honeymoon while you had shouldered the duty to keep your mother's business going during her absence. The question had been asked during her wedding and since you could impossibly say no in front of everyone there, you had simply smiled like an idiot as you said: "Of course, mom!"
You couldn't believe how cruel she was to you. You were going to live in Sunshine Haven—probably every rich celebrity bastard's favorite and most wanted spot in the world—and three months at that! Three freaking months! And to make things worse, you had employees, economy and whatnot to take care of during the time.
The thought made you grumble with annoyance. How had your mother been able to miss the obvious error with having her little girl taking care of her posh cafe?
You didn't know anything about how to manage a business. You didn't even make your own coffee—you always bought it. And you weren't the sharpest tool in the shed regarding numbers and investments. You were neither stupid nor dumb, but there was a reason to why you kept to your books and paintings: numbers made your head spin in the strangest ways and instead of seeing them stacked up neatly on the paper, they would move and change places. Of course, nobody knew about this except you; your parents simply thought you weren't made for math and so did you.
The familiar silhouette of the lighthouse and the gray ribbon of sea could be seen by now and abruptly reminded you of the few good days there had been during your childhood. The times you and your parents had visited the beach, eaten picnic on the flat cliffs and strolled around amongst the shops. Your parents had never had any issue with money, especially not as of late, but you had never liked the way they obsessed and fought over economic welfare. You had never wanted them to buy you anything even as a child and the reluctance had grown when you had, making you suffer terribly at pathetic jobs in an effort to make it on your own. You felt uncomfortable with their preaching about your future and how important money was and you never kept much in the bank, afraid to someday become like your parents. There was actually nothing more you dreaded than that.
Your grip around the wheel had tightened until you no longer could feel your fingers. You relaxed and exhaled loudly, steering your car off the highway and into the urban area. Pondering at the past always led to the lump in your throat, an increasing heart rate and sweaty palms. You turned off the radio and tried to concentrate on driving as you maneuvered through the almost empty streets. You lost count of how many fancy bakeries, cafes and restaurants you passed and the large, exclusive shops with famous names made you feel awkward in your regular jeans and t-shirt. Your car wasn't especially old but it still looked extremely outdated compared to the slick sports cars and humongous jeeps you saw and some of the buildings were mad beautiful.
Distracted by all the waste of money, it took you quite a while before you remembered the way to your mother's combined home and business. The bistro was closed during weekends, so you'd have enough time to move in all your stuff and get comfortable before the real torment would begin. The thought of meeting your employees made you shudder.
Curving to the left at an intersection, you spotted the peach-colored, two-story building and approached it. The outer side was just as you remembered from the opening day; the windows to the bottom floor were large and welcoming, and tinier and covered with blinds at the second floor; a low metal fence without gate surrounded the chairs and tables at the front and framed the entrance together with tall plants you didn't know the names of. A sign hung above the double oak doors and you grimaced as you read "Sweet Eclipse" in black, squiggly letters. Something that cheesy was just like your mother.
It was obscure inside and you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you had held. Somehow you'd been afraid that your mother would be there but of course, she would never have chosen a later flight to be able to meet the daughter she hadn't seen in six months.
As you parked your car in the garage in the back, your phone buzzed twice. Confused, you rummaged through your handbag and read the message:
*The meeting's in five if you haven't forgotten. /Your manager*
You paled. You had forgotten. And you had also forgotten the most critical issue with your staying: your mother had a manager who would keep you from completely ruining your mother's name and a creepy one at that—how had the person even gotten your number?
Your mother's smiling face flashed before your eyes. Of course.
You got out of the car and sprinted in through the backdoor with your bags in tow. If you'd hurry, you would maybe be able to freshen up and get into something slightly more flattering than your current outfit. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt a suffocating pressure to look extra decent in front of this stranger that would be your manager.
When the automatic lights flickered on, you saw that the inside decor was as impeccable and typical your mother as the exterior. There were slender furniture in wood and velvet, a brown and black bar table in front of a large shelf stacked with alcohol and a long counter in marble. You saw shiny coffee machines in various sizes, empty glass counters where the cakes and pastries usually were and doors leading to the kitchen, the toilets and upstairs. You found and unlocked the door to the second floor with the keys your mother had sent you a week before and hurried up the tiny staircase. The apartment was exactly what you expected from your mother: modern, clean and unnecessarily expensive.
You hated it.
You threw your bags on the floor and found a not too wrinkled dress you change into. After quickly brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, you heard the entrance door unlock. Alarmed, you pulled on your favorite shoes, a thin cardigan and went downstairs. A slender guy in a dark suit closed the double doors after him and turned towards you, his penetrating, bright blue gaze almost making you stagger. His black hair was neatly parted and made in an old-fashioned undercut and his face was a symmetrical perfection of angles and lines, making your fingers itch for a pen and paper. You couldn't judge his exact age but he was definitely your senior.
"Hello?" you asked warily. "And who are you?"
"Levi Ackerman," he replied in a formal, curt tone and bowed. "I'm the executive director for Sweet Eclipse and your mother's business partner. Yours now, rather," he added.
So this was the creepy manager. He was pretty damn good-looking.
"Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Ackerman." You swallowed nervously and raked a hand through your hair. You vaguely recalled your mother telling you about him but couldn't come up with anything on the spot. "If you've worked with my mother, I presume you already know my name, age and life story?"
His thin lips curved into the slightest smile. "Most likely, yes," he replied and gestured towards a table. "Shall we?"
You nodded and seated opposite to him, placing your elbows on the table. "So what's this about, Mr. Ackerman?" you asked uncomfortably, suddenly worried if your breath still smelled like coffee.
"A simple 'sir' will suffice," he said as he picked up a file from his briefcase. You waited while he organized the papers in your direction. "We're here to discuss your temporary position as owner here at Sweet Eclipse. Ninety days." A pale, bony finger tapped on a sheet and another three handed you a pen. "I would like you to sign here for your confirmation, your mother's recommendation. It'll make you the official owner of this establishment so that for an example, all deliveries can be signed with your name."
"Okay," you replied quietly as you hastily scribbled down your name and returned his pen. Inwardly you were roaring in anger and frustration. You were stuck here for ninety days. Could there be anything worse in life?
Levi immediately took it and the contract, quickly putting the latter into its file. "Is there anything else I need to sign?" you wondered as your eyes scanned the rest of the papers, simply seeing black, tiny-sized text fill up a lot of white.
He seemed to have noticed the source for your confusion because he quickly answered, "No, that's just the rest of the contract. I thought you might want to read everything so I brought it all."
Furrowing your brows, you raised your gaze to see if he was being sarcastic, but his cerulean eyes were solemn. You scratched the back of your head as you straightened. "Oh. Thanks. But I think I want to keep my current eyesight."
"Fine by me," he answered and gathered all the papers into the file. You couldn't tell if he was smirking again or not. "Do you have any questions?"
You had a million but knew that he probably wouldn't have time for it; people in Sunshine Haven rarely had. So instead of assaulting him with your pettiest inquiries, you sorted through them and picked some you deemed absolutely necessary.
"What's my job?" you wondered hesitantly, afraid that Levi would either laugh or reprimand you. Maybe even both. But he didn't seem too surprised with your words and you guessed that your mother really had rambled everything about you. If it was a blessing or curse, you could only wait and see but so far, Levi Ackerman didn't seem too bad.
"Standing as a face for the company," he began as he closed his briefcase and settled a skinny leg over the other. "I can and would prefer to handle economics and the like, but I can't really arrange any parties or important business meetings without you there. It also helps if you help serve your guests."
"Doesn't this place hire some kind of staff?" you asked and raised an eyebrow. "Or are they too few or unskilled?"
"Of course you have employees," he said and frowned at your skeptical tone. "And although they're all very hard-working brats, it's a different and more pleasant experience for the customers if they meet the owner. That's why your mother's bistro is going so well compared to all the others in Sunshine Haven—she appeals with her authenticity."
You sighed. "Fine, I'll do it." A flashback of your short time in the restaurant business made you shudder in fear although you did your best not to show it. "When can I meet the rest of the workers?"
The raven-haired man shrugged. "Whenever you want," he responded and held up the latest phone on the market. "Do you have a date?"
The lazier part of you longed for a cozy corner to read a book while the reasonable part told you that it was best to meet your mother's employees as soon as possible, especially since you had time to spare. After a brief struggle with yourself, you decided of an answer.
"I want to meet them now."
