"Food's here," Jacobs commented as they emerged from the bath. "Zia, you're over here," he directed, pulling out a chair for her on the side of the small dining table closest to the sitting area and windows. She sat, figuring that the new guy wasn't just being chivalrous. Sure enough, he clipped the chain connecting her wrists to a bolt in the center of the table. She had enough mobility to eat her meal but was once again secured to the furniture.
Phil helped carry both his meal and drink and hers from the waiting tray to the table. The plates were covered, keeping hot things hot and cool things cool.
"I'll give you time to eat," Jacobs stated. "I know Miranda was planning to come talk to you, Zia."
Zia almost choked on the swig of drink she had just taken. "I don't want to have anything to do with her crazy!" she all but snapped.
Jacobs seemed a little taken aback by anyone speaking of the lady of the house that way, but swallowed, regaining his composure. "I don't think you have much choice in that."
Zia huffed.
"While you're eating, I'll go and bring back some board games. You know, give you something to do together."
Zia had to suppress a snarky remark. Jacobs seemed nice enough and that he was trying to make her more comfortable. She had to remember that she had been allowed a bathroom, a hot shower, clean, really nice clothes, and now a meal. It could always be worse.
Jacobs left and she pulled off the cover to her meal to investigate what she'd been offered. She found a delectable looking salad with crisp baby greens, strawberries, and blackberries, sprinkled with sharp cheddar cheese and sweet balsamic dressing. A bottle of water, a little bowl of candied cashews, a can of sparkling citrus soda and a gourmet cookie were served as accompaniments. She couldn't have ordered a better lunch for herself if she'd been asked. She looked up at Phil. "How do they know me so well?" she asked.
"No idea," he answered, shoving a fork full of perfectly prepared and seasoned steak tips into his mouth. "But this is really good." He chewed and swallowed. "Do you eat meat?" he asked, stabbing another bite.
"A little," she answered.
"Here, try this," he held out the fork to her.
She sucked the bite off the fork into her mouth and licked her lips. "Wow," she spoke with her mouth full. She closed her eyes, chewed, and swallowed, savoring. "That is incredible."
"Do you want another bite?" he offered.
"No, you enjoy, but if I get to put in any requests, I might ask for that for supper. I generally eat lighter at lunchtime."
Phil had also been given a small side salad with an apple vinaigrette dressing and a craft beer. They ate in mostly silence after that, enjoying good food and good company.
Phil had finished first and Zia was still nibbling on her cookie, when the outer door opened to Miranda peering into the room. "Hello," she greeted warmly as she entered the room and kicked the door with her heel to close it. She had a tall expensive looking pale-yellow bottle in one hand and two delicate gold rimmed drinking glasses, crossed at the stems upside down, in the other. Zia swallowed the bite in her mouth, placed the remaining half so of cookie on her napkin, wiped her hands off and steeled herself. She had been warned, but she was not looking forward to this.
Miranda crossed the room and placed the bottle and glasses on the edge of the table but clearly out of Zia's reach. She stood behind Phil and wrapped a delicate manicured hand over each shoulder, gently rubbing the muscles there as she spoke. She was pleased that Phil didn't tense or pull away. Good, she thought; he's comfortable with me and trusts me. Exactly what she wanted. She was even more pleased to see Zia's glare sharpen and to actually bite her lower lip. The woman was getting territorial, an even better sign.
"Phil, dear, have you finished? Do you think you could give Zia and I some girl time?"
"Sure, Miranda," he said as he stood, clearing dishes and bringing them back to the tray. He put what was in his hands down and crossed back over to Zia's side of the table. He picked up her empty dishes, leaving the remaining cookie she had clearly left on her napkin, and caught her eye. "I'll be back soon. Play nice." Zia lifted her eyes to his, annoyed, but not angry. "Please," he added. He heard her let out a breath. He'd take it.
"Why don't you go freshen up, dear," Miranda continued. "The bedroom three doors down on the right has been set up for your use."
"Ok," he consented, leaving with the tray. "But please let me know the second you need anything."
"We'll be fine, dear."
The door closed. Neither woman spoke. Miranda's countenance was clearly calmer. They studied each other for a minute. Zia might have decided she hated the woman before her, but she couldn't deny her sophistication. She was everything Zia never felt comfortable being. Gorgeous, statuesque and clearly more than confident in her realm. Realm was right. This woman was a queen.
Miranda broke the silence first. "So, dear, I'd ask you how you're doing but I think I already know."
Zia all but sneered. "I am not your dear, and neither is Phil," she added, a little more quietly.
Miranda huffed softly. She didn't say it out loud, but a we'll see was definitely implied.
"You know, you're making this much harder on yourself than it needs to be…"
"How exactly is that?" Zia cut her off, her blood boiling hotter. "I'm not the one keeping me under lock and key."
"Actually, you are." It was Miranda's turn to cut her off. "What exactly do you think is going to happen if you agree to give in to my husband? Do you see anyone else around here under lock and key? Well, unless they've asked for it," she paused to smirk at her own apparent joke. Zia didn't quite get it, or at least she wasn't sure she wanted to get it. "Have you looked around? Our people are more than happy to be here. We're just trying to invite you to the party."
"Hell of an invitation," Zia snarked. "I'm not buying into whatever psycho rich bitch insanity you've all got going around here."
Miranda could count on one finger the times in the past ten years someone had spoken to her like that. However, she was expecting it, and chose to ignore it. Baiting Zia further was going to do nothing to win her case. She remained calm.
"You've been here, what seven? Eight years, dear?" she asked, well aware of her continued use of the pet name.
"So?"
Miranda didn't answer her, but instead opened the bottle she'd brought and poured two generous glasses. She stood to place one in Zia's reach, hoping that the other woman had at least enough proprietary to not throw the liquid back in her face, and returned to her own seat, lifting her own glass.
"You can be as angry at me as you'd like, Doc. But please don't take it out on the booze." She took a hearty sip, licked her lips and let out a soft moan of pleasure. "God that's heaven in a glass. Please," she gestured with the two bottom fingers on the stem of her glass.
Zia figured she could at least try it. After all, why deny herself the good stuff she been offered? Not to mention everything around here, one brown haired, hazel eyed hunk of a man included, had been phenomenal. As she lifted the glass to her lips, Miranda let out a "Cheers!" and took a corresponding sip of her own.
Oh…My God in heaven…creamy, lemony…goodness.
Zia couldn't help herself, she guzzled down half the glass before she spoke.
"What is this?"
"Cream limoncello," Miranda laughed, "and not the store-bought stuff. This is imported directly from Sorrento from private stocks. Figured you'd like it." She stood again and reached to top off the other woman's glass.
By the time Phil had attended to personal needs, showered, and changed his clothes, Miranda and Zia had managed to kick the bottle. He walked back into the room to both women laughing hysterically, over apparently nothing. Zia had tears of a different sort in her eyes and had literally just smacked the tabletop mid guffaw.
She stopped herself long enough to look up at him, letting out a "Phil! Hey baby, I misssed you!"
Yup, definitely drunk.
Miranda managed to stand, clearly tipsy herself. She wobbled dangerously on her high heels towards him. "Phil, darrlling. Glad you're back. I was just about to take my leave." Miranda put a steadying hand on his shoulder and swallowed, clearly trying to regain some of her trademark iron grace and control. When she lifted her eyes back up to his they were a bit clearer and her voice was mostly steady, but she left a hand on his arm to support herself.
"Get her back in bed. Make her drink some water and I'll have the guys grab you two aspirin for her." She moved towards the door. She paused and looked back at him. "Oh, and Phil? Control yourself. I'm sure she's going to be as horny as hell, but you don't want your first time to be when she's as drunk as a skunk."
"You're no fun!" Zia complained from her seat at the table, clearly having heard her.
"I think we've just established that I am," Miranda shot back, and took her leave. She managed to make it through the door with some grace intact, and then leaned against the outer doorframe as her head started to spin. Stevens and Malone jumped up out of their chairs in the hall, coming to her assistance. Ken had had everyone taking turns on guard duty.
"Ma'am?" Stevens asked as Malone wrapped an arm supportively under her and around her waist. "Fine, dear. Malone, can you call someone to come replace you and help me back to my rooms? Stevens, have whoever is coming bring Zia some aspirin. She's going to need it."
Miranda leaned gratefully into Malone as they moved down the hall. At the moment she was enjoying her wonderful floating drunken state, but she knew the let down headache was coming. She had at least gotten Zia to laugh and more than loosen up, but she also knew she hadn't really succeeded. If she were still in the situation like she had been in years ago with Malone, she would have kept going, but she also recognized when someone could do a better job. Nowadays she and Ken had lots of resources at their disposal. It was time to call in the big guns. It was time to get Claire and Owen.