Quarantined: Book 1 of The Quarantine Series Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Drethi Anis

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  Dedication

  This book is for my friends who found themselves out of work, just like I did, due to COVID-19. Let's make something better during times of desperation. A portion of the proceedings will go to them.

  Also dedicated to:

  My amazing husband.

  My insightful friend Candy.

  And my wonderful friend Bunny, who was the namesake.

  PROLOGUE

  March 13th, 2020

  -----------

  Raven

  I can feel Milo's eyes on me before I even see him. I glance through the living room window, and sure enough, there he is, all six feet of him. He is standing right outside of the brownstone, his gaze transfixed on me. I hope he is stunned. I can use the element of surprise to my advantage.

  I knew this day would come, but it doesn't make it easier. At least I have a leg up. I have been practicing my demeanor and my confident stance. I want the upper hand.

  Milo grins and lazily struts to the front door of the house. From the window, I can see that he still dresses well.

  He is in a black suit that hug him at all the right places, with a white dress shirt, no tie. His suit jacket is unbuttoned. So it's easy to make out his defined body under the thin scrap of the shirt's material. His shoulders are broader than I remember, indicative of the strict gym routine he probably still follows. Experience tells me that his clothes are expensive.

  He always had an air about him. One that screams, "I barely put any effort into looking this good." All the girls ate it up.

  When we were younger, all my friends swooned over his tall, athletic physique, rigid jawlines, dark brown hair and green eyes. I was hoping that he had aged horribly into his twenties. Maybe developed a bald spot or became fat. No such luck. The asshole is still the epitome of male beauty. I bet his popularity with the female demographic has not changed. They probably still fall at his heels.

  All but me.

  It doesn't work on me because I know better. He might be enveloped with an angel's face, but he is darkness, and he made my life dark. He is Lucifer, the devil himself, disguised beautifully to trick mortal women. He is my worst nightmare.

  None of my mental preparations are enough to overcome the siege panic that suddenly engulfs me, as he turns the lock. I am standing in the living room of his beautiful Upper West Side brownstone. I stay frozen in front of the large floor to ceiling window, as Milo opens the door. My first instinct is to run upstairs and lock myself in my childhood room. My second is to take off my red bottom shoes, and hit his cocky face with the pencil sharp heel. Or maybe puncture one of his eyes with it. He will be one-eyed and scarred, just like he scarred me. The thought alone brings a smile to my face. But I suppress it.

  Instead, I focus on the game plan. I will freeze him out and act nonchalant. My apathy always wounded him, more than my rage or sorrow. Anger, fear, trepidation, tears are all results of some form of emotion. And he got off on my emotions, any of them. It's my apathy that he couldn't control or tolerate.

  I plan to throw him off by consistently dismissing him. I want him to feel belittled, without me having to actually belittle him. I want to show him that he has no influence or hold on me. He can exist or not exist. He is just part of this environment, like furniture.

  I understand it's not the most creative game plan, but it's the best I got. Well, the best is telling Reid or our parents what he did, but that would cost me more than I can bear.

  With my thoughts rampant, I lose sight of the fact that the devil has officially flung open the doors and is headed right to me. He stops to look at me with an unreadable expression. I stare back blankly, hoping to give nothing away.

  I just finished my last day at work. I am in a black cocktail dress, with some nude pumps on. The dress is conservative enough with a jacket on. But since I took the jacket off, the halter dress is exposing a bit more skin than I planned to show. I feel exposed but I don’t let it show.

  Milo looks at me for what seems like an eternity. There is an intensity in his gaze that makes even the most confident people squirm. But not me, not today.

  "Rave."

  I don't respond and just level him with an "oh it's you" stare. As he walks towards me, my whole body tenses and I shake a little. I can be mentally apathetic, but physical reactions are a whole different ball game.

  "How have you been?" he says warmly as if we are some sort of old talking pals, who are catching up.

  My mind goes blank, as he reaches close enough for me to smell that familiar musk scent. A scent that used to bring me comfort. Now it is only a reminder of my horrors. Instead of answering, I throw him off.

  "Milo," I say cooly. "Come in. Would you like a drink?"

  "You are inviting me to my own home and offering me a drink? Shouldn't I be the one offering you a drink?" He raises an eyebrow.

  "Okay. Get me a drink."

  He starts to grin at my attempt to turn the tables. I want to slap that cocky grin off his face. Instead, I give him my drink order. "I will take a dry martini, with orange bitters and a lemon twist. Olives will do if you don't have a lemon. I prefer it in a chilled glass. You can probably chill the glass in the ice bucket."

  I hold my facial expression, as Milo gives me another amused look. Milo has always been polite, so I know he will comply and play host. I was never going to make that motherfucker a drink. I need him to be aware that this is a power struggle, and I am forcing him to cater to me.

  He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it on the back of one of the living room chairs. His body looks even more defined and stronger than I assumed. I am instantly aware that he can overcome me, even faster than before.

  He waives an arm out. "After you," he says, motioning me towards the kitchen.

  We strut over to the large island, that has a liquor shelf built to the side. I keep a safe distance, with eyes in the back of my head, as he follows me. The pepper spray in my back pocket is a straining reminder that I am not so trustworthy or naive anymore. I refuse to underestimate the risks of the predicament I am in.

  I have thought this through. This is the only logical solution, but I am still uncomfortable with the conclusion. Staying at this house is far from ideal. In fact, it's my last resort.

  Rent in New York City is absurd, even with roommates. And due to my full-time unpaid internship, the only jobs I could do was bartending or waitressing, after work and on weekends.

  So I shared a shitty basement, with two other girls. I worked at my internship from Monday through Friday, and then as a bartender after work, from Thursday through Saturday. I was exhausted by my seventy hour work weeks. And I could still barely scrape up enough cash for food and rent.

  That was my level of commitment, rather than coming back to live in this hell hole. And for a little while, my plan was working.

  What I didn't account for is COVID-19.

  A few months ago, we heard an inkling of something called coronavirus, discovered in the Wuhan district of China. Apparently, it was spreading very quickly.

  The problem with humans is, we believe what we see. At that time, it seemed like it was a problem for the other end of the world.

  In less than two months, the first case of COVID-19 was reported in the USA, on the west coast. Still, those
of us on the east coast skated away, not worried about what will happen.

  Within a few weeks, COVID-19 was all over the USA. Currently, all states have it, except for West Virginia for some God damn reason. In fact, most of the world is reporting cases in their countries. It's a pandemic of a proportion we have never seen in our lifetimes.

  The government immediately set in protocols. Social distancing. Complete shutdown. Isolation. Stay indoors. Today was my last day at my internship. The company decided to close down till April, or until the situation progresses for the better. And a few days ago, I lost my job as a bartender. All part-time servers were laid off, as the government is encouraging people to stay indoors.

  Loss of job, loss of hope, complete isolation. I had no idea what to do.

  Reid, along with the rest of our family members, twisted my arm into moving back to the Sinclair home. I couldn't find a suitable explanation that will satiate Reid and them, about why I couldn't live with my family during these desperate times.

  I have been laid off from my bartending gig. My internship is unpaid, so I have no other income coming in. The government is telling us to stay indoors, and it's much better to share a household with your loved ones, than two girls I barely know. I had a month to month lease with the landlord, which was easy to break due to this epidemic.

  As free food and accommodation are readily available at my childhood home, at a time where it seems like the world is ending, what excuse can I possibly provide to decline this offer?

  It was checkmate. They had me.

  I took comfort in the fact that the whole family will also be staying here, as we are all going into isolation for a minimum of two weeks, maybe more. Not that their presence ever stopped Milo before, but at least I have them to rely on. This time I will be more vocal, stand my ground, and stand up to him.

  I bring my attention back to the situation at hand. He is still watching me as he starts looking through the liquor shelf. He pulls out a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses.

  He shrugs, "We don't have any gin for the martini. I hope you still like Malbec."

  "That's fine!" I love Malbec. I still grind my teeth. He does have gin. He knows that I spat out a complicated drink, knowing full well that Reid stocks all the ingredients for martinis.

  He is forcing me to acknowledge that he won't bend over backward for me. I bite down the inside of my cheeks. That fucker!

  I graciously accept the glass of wine. I have to establish a polite, ladylike, and aloof nature, creating a distance between us. Familiarity breeds contempt. If I act childish or chide him like he is a close friend, he won't take me seriously and might try to manipulate me further.

  No, I need to act refined, mature, and well put together, while I give him the cold shoulder. He has to know I am untouchable and confident. I won't take his shit anymore. Milo should tense before making any demands. I am not a little girl anymore, who is consistently seeking his approval. I will not be bullied into unacceptable behavior or be taken advantage of.

  I focus on staying distant and take a small sip of the red wine.

  "When did you get back to New York?" His eyes are glued to me.

  "A week ago." I lie smoothly. I have been dodging him for years. If he knows I have been living in New York for months, it's going to start an argument off the bat.

  "Are you working?"

  "I am doing an internship at Karen's company." I clear my throat. I am already uncomfortable.

  "What about Paris? And your mom?"

  "It didn't work out." I hate this conversation. I don't want him to know about my failures.

  "And now you plan to branch out on your own?"

  I nod and take a sip of wine. Much needed.

  "I am guessing it's a non-paying internship since Karen thinks gracing interns with her presence is the same as paying them an actual salary."

  I nod again, truly hating this conversation. Loathing every admission.

  Realization dawns on him as he cautiously continues, "With the COVID outbreak, you can't possibly work a part-time job now. So you will stay here. We are all camping out in here as well."

  I don't respond. I don't have to. He made a statement that I am staying here. He didn't phrase it as a question.

  Milo knows about my pride. He knows I'd never be here unless I was desperate. It literally took a pandemic, an apocalypse, end of the world, to get me back here.

  From what Reid told me, Milo’s business has become a huge success. He created an app when he was in college. It took off, and it landed him on Forbes’ list of 30 Under 30 brightest entrepreneurs. As a result, he stays quite busy. He often travels for work. Whenever he comes back, he stays at the brownstone more than his condo in Soho. It's not a surprise that he chose to come back to the brownstone to stay here during the quarantine. He always liked being around his family.

  Of course, it’s not enough to be rich and handsome. He also has to act like the prodigal son, which annoys the shit out of me. He'd rather hang out with his siblings, than party like a regular twenty-five old single man on the prowl. As a result, both of our families love him. Everyone loves him. Again, everyone but me. I know better.

  A chill runs through me, as I remember why and how I know better. I am suddenly unnerved and claustrophobic. I feel lightheaded and I'm in need to compose myself. I am not in complete control and need to find an exit strategy quickly.

  This run-in served its purpose. He knows I am back. He knows I will be living here while the government shuts everything down. Years have passed since I last saw him. By this point, I have to believe he has grown up and become a better man. Everything will be different this time around. It has to be, for my sanity.

  With that resolution, I make up my mind to leave him be. I will only be around him once Reid gets back home from campus. All universities have already shut down due to the COVID-19 panic. Reid had to tie up some loose ends and is coming home later tonight.

  I will avoid being alone in the house with Milo for the duration, as well as in the future. As far as I am concerned, this conversation is over.

  "I am glad that's settled. I wish I could stay and catch up but I have to unpack. Thank you for the drink." I am shocked that my words came out coherently. I am almost shaking now, and my legs are about to give out under me.

  Milo is still eyeing me as he takes a sip of his wine. I don't wait for his response or permission. I don't need it.

  I put my wine glass down and turn on my heels. Without glancing back, I walk towards the stairs. My goal resides on the top of those stairs, my room, my sweet escape away from him. I have already installed a lock, in case he gets any funny ideas in the middle of the night.

  As I am walking up the stairs, I feel a gust of air move behind me. Before I can turn, two freakishly strong hands come around my waist, hoisting me up the stairs. It all happens so fast, I don't even have a chance to scream. It registers with me that Milo moved from the island and followed me. He now has me in a hold, with my back held to his front.

  I find my voice, and I let out a bloody murder scream at the top of my lungs. Milo is faster. By the time I am screaming, we have already reached the top of the staircases.

  "You think you can waltz in here after four years, and give me the fucking cold shoulder," Milo growls as he walks with me in his arms. "You didn't think I'd know you moved back months ago and have been avoiding me. What the fuck, Raven!"

  I freeze, momentarily forgetting to struggle against his arms around my waist. Of course, he knew I moved back. He played along to fuck with me. To humor me, so I'd think I am in control, till he can catch me off guard and get what he wants.

  As Milo walks up the stairs, some of my shock subsides. I scream back at him, "What the fuck are you doing? I swear to God, you so much as touch me and I will go to the police. I will tell our families. I will tell everybody. I am not letting you get away with this shit anymore."

  "Do it."

  "What?"

  Pure shock overco
mes me. He wants me to go to the police and embarrass our families.

  "Do. It." Milo enunciates each word through clenched teeth. "Do all of those things. When will you understand? I don't fucking care."

  Before I can respond, he is already opening the door to his room and walks us inside, as I am still struggling and trying to hit him. Then I hear the familiar snick of lock sound, indicating that the doors have been sealed, and so has my fate.

  I can feel a new wave of panic overcome me, as my whole body betrays me. I am shaking, but I refuse to go down. I reach for my back pocket, but the pepper spray is not there. I am mortified to realize that it dropped out, probably while he was manhandling me.

  Fuck! Fuck!

  I have to think on my feet. I try a last-ditch effort, appealing to his rational side.