trouble

task un - character intro 

tw: parental death

Micayla Harris ( Candice Patton ) was born into a family of enormous wealth and power. But with a father convinced his youngest child would never be able to carry the family name, Micayla determined to make her own dynasty. After her parents were killed, she took her inheritance and eventually settled in Paris, France, where she opened up an illegal fight club, in an effort to keep herself so enmeshed in the criminal world, that she would never be taken off guard by it again.

stats - connections - pinterest - le rouge

He elicited a laugh from her swat at him, though noted that Micayla seemed entirely lost in thought while continuing to browse the various books. “Sounds like a best-seller. I get what you mean about them mainly being in French though…” Lincoln nodded. As proud as he was at how much his skills in the language had drastically improved over time with continued practice, it still likely wasn’t to the point of being able to understand a full-length novel, such as the one she was intently on the search for. His eyes widened, looking at her in a puzzled manner at her following remark about him. “What are you getting at with ‘one of those’, Harris?” He grinned. “I don’t know about the whole ‘ville de l’amour’ thing, but the food? Oui, I do very much enjoy those vibes here.” 

—

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed at his answer. “Sure, sure. So you’re not getting caught up in cupid’s holiday in the city of love?” One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose as she looked over at him, a smirk tugging at her lips. She was teasing of course, in the years they had known each other, Lincoln had never really struck her as the kind of person to get caught up in all those cliches. But then again, you never knew with people. They could always surprise you. 

The physical effect his stare had on her was noticeable and when he saw her fold her arms defensively, his smirk grew. Tiago still didn’t know why she resisted him so hard. They had shared that night together in Madrid and she had gave herself over to him so openly, but since coming to Paris and returning to her, he found a different woman before him. It didn’t stop him from wanting to try as he longed to see that side of her again but he also knew that in this city she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, there was too much at stake. 

Dark eyes glinted with excitement when he thought she was returning his attention but then she continued and her words brought a flare to his nostrils, not impressed by the teasing. The male prided himself on his appearance and hygiene, especially being a doctor, he knew the germs that existed. “You could eat your dinner off me, bello, I’m that clean,” he argued back with a slight glare. He run his fingers through his hair, a sign of frustration, and inhaled deeply as the exchange frustrated him. 

“Fine,” he replied, tone stern. Dark eyes locked on to hers, meeting the challenge she presented. He pulled out his phone and typed quickly, then before he clicked send he turned to her. “I guess I’ll agree to this date at Le Meurice on Friday night, si?” Then he clicked send and grinned at her, waiting for the reaction. Tiago knew she too had a date on Friday at Le Meurice and he purposely arranged his to piss her off. If she wanted to toy with him, then he would toy back. 

—

She raised a brow, noting the frustration evident on his features. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt like she could read Tiago fairly well. Like that night in Madrid had somehow opened a door between them into each other that to this day, kept them connected. And she knew he was growing tired of her games. Part of her was relieved, maybe if she pushed him enough, he’d give up on her, on them. And therefore, pose less of a threat to the control she sought to keep of her life. But another part of her, a deeper part that she hoped no one ever knew about, was afraid of that happening. That tiny part of her was afraid he would stop. 

With a smirk tugging on her lips, she took a step forward, finally closing the distance between them, even if only just a bit. “Aw, did I hit a sore spot?” she asked, her voice clearly teasing as she offered him a sympathetic look. But then he was pulling out his phone and typing away. When he finally explained what he was doing, her eyes narrowed in frustration. “No you will fucking not, Torres!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest again, all of her playful attitude gone. But he had already pressed send, she heard the phone’s notification that the message had been sent. In an uncharacteristic display, Micayla stomped her foot in frustration. Why did he have to do this to her?! She hadn’t been on a date in years. Sure, she’d had the occasional friends with benefits arrangement to let off some steam, but not an actual date. The fact she was willing to do so, proved how desperate she was to get Tiago out of her head. She needed something, someone to distract her from the annoyingly beautiful man who patched up everyone at her club. 

Taking in a deep breath, Micayla reminded herself that this was exactly what Tiago wanted. To get a reaction out of her. “Fine, have your little date.” she again closed the distance, this time moving forward until their toes almost touched. Looking up at him, her gaze met his with a challenging glare. “Let’s see who can have the most fun.” She held his gaze for a moment longer before finally moving to brush past him. She needed to get as far away as possible from Tiago Torres. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’d just be eating alone if you hadn’t needed a seat.” He genuinely doesn’t mind, company is almost always welcome. Plus, it helps that this person isn’t a complete stranger, they recognize her from Le Rouge. Considering how often she’s there, he’d guess that she’s the owner or something like that. “Yeah, I like going there to get some drinks sometimes. It’s a pretty nice atmosphere.”

—

Micayla tilted her head a bit, almost nodding as if to agree with their statement as she took a sip of her tea, eyes closing a bit as the warm liquid did its’ job of warming her up. “Well, that’s good to hear.” she replied, as she turned her attention back to her companion, though her head tilted to side a bit at the last sentence, a chuckle escaping her lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard it described as ‘nice’ before.” she admitted. Enjoyable? Yes. The place to have the best time on a night out in Paris? Definitely. But also seemed to draw a rough crowd? For sure. 

“Merde!” Normally, Micayla simply liked how the french swear word sounded better than the english one, but in this moment, it wasn’t even a conscious choice. It was simply the only reaction she could come up with as she attempted to keep her car from sliding off the side of the road in these freakish, snowy conditions. She had gone to the salon to have her hair done this morning and after hours of her hair being pulled and twisted into the perfect faux locs, all she wanted to do was get home as fast as possible, put her feet up, and enjoy a good book. Hence why she had insisted on driving home despite the snow storm that had all of a sudden struck Paris. Micayla hated driving in inclement weather. But she hated feeling stuck somewhere even more. 

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭: Yolotl’s home

𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲: Closed starter for @micaylaharris​

There weren’t many people in Yolotl’s life that she could blindly trust in. One of the many downsides of growing up the way she had was that many people tried to take advantage of the name and privileges that came with being a Córcega. More often times than she cared to admit, the Mexican heiress had had to terminate significant relationships upon realizing her trust had been granted to the wrong type of people who only saw her as nothing more than a brand, a trophy they could parade with, something they could possess. Finding real friends in a world as competitive as the one she had been breed into was, for he most part, one of the biggest challenges the businesswoman had had to endure in her rather privileged, lonely life. However, instead of dwelling on those wasted opportunities, the brunette always chose to use them as a learning opportunity, a step to become a better version of herself that could learn to appreciate the people in her life that chose to become a part of it for reasons beyond what her family could offer. People like Micayla Harris. The two businesswomen had enough in common to connect upon sight; the owner of Le Rouge had, on the time of their friendship, not only gain Yolo’s trust, but her respect and ultimately, her affection; two features not many others had earned on her twenty-five years of life. 

That trust was palpable for anyone who knew the two friends, by the way the youngest carried herself around her friend. It was easy to let her guard down, let herself simply exist without the constant self-doubt and self-built wall keeping her at a safe distance from any form of real connection. Her friendship with Micayla had become the one place where she could sit in the comfort of her own home, no shoes on, drinking wine out of the shared bottle in complete silence, simply enjoying eachother’s company; just like the two were at that same exact moment after allowing themselves a night off from work to catch up. “My father wants me to come home for the summer and he knows just the way to lure me in, he mentioned needing help with the launch of the next hotel— we are going for Puerto Vallarta again” she counts. It’s yet another token of trust; telling her friend about her family’s business. “My point is, mon coeur, that if you feel like taking a week away from the enchanting and magical streets of Élyseé and the parisians” she smirked. “I have a Villa with your name on it. It occurred to me that you have never been to my hometown and I would love to have you there. Puerto Vallarta is only a few hours away from where I grew up— have you ever been to an agave field?”

—

Like Yolotl, Micayla didn’t have many in her life she could let herself be truly free with. She knew exactly what people thought they could get from her because of her name, because of her successful night club, and because of the business she had entered into in general. There was always a motive, an ulterior reason people wanted to be around the club owner. But with Yolotl, Micayla had found the exact opposite. The pair enjoyed each other’s company and that was it. They could relate to each other on such a deep level, the friendship had quickly become anything but surface level. She was grateful to have someone in her life, other than Finn, who she could truly just be herself with. She didn’t have to think about what they were thinking they could get from her. It was a wonderful relief and allowed her so much freedom.

Making herself comfortable on Yolo’s couch, she turned her body so that her back was leaning against the arm of the chair and she could face her friend, listening intently. With a thinly veiled sigh - Yolotl knew full well how Micayla felt about the woman’s father - she shook her head. “Of course he wants you home.” she replied with a chuckle. “You’re obviously an incredible asset to the business... and to the family in general.” She reached for the bottle of wine, taking a sip as well, before placing it back on the coffee table beside them. “You know I would love to get to see where you grew up, even without the villa.” she replied, her mind already spinning as she thought about what would be necessary for her to take a vacation. But in the eight years since she had started Le Rouge, she couldn’t remember a single time she’d left the country. It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in her staff, especially now that Caoimhín had accepted the position as manager. It was more so that the brunette had an extremely relinquishing control, especially over something she held as dear as Le Rouge. Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she imagined getting to visit a beautiful agave field. “Yolo, I haven’t even left France in the last eight years.” she answered, reaching up to touch her forehead with a sigh, a little embarrassed to admit how much the club had consumed her life since starting it. 

          For a moment all the brunette could do in response was stammer and chuckle uncomfortably. The last thing she had expected was a tease like that coming from Micayla. Despite knowing how closely her friend watched the movements of her nightclub, Lena was curious of what she had picked up on when it came to the name dropped Irishman. “Uhh, yeah —” Too obvious at this point, she didn’t hide pulling in a breath and the work it took to steady herself from the surprise. “Let me know what he says.” It was her attempt to play it off, and dark eyes caught her friend with the tease still laying think in the Valentine’s Day air between them leaving Lena to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. They were friends, she and Caoimhín, so what was Micayla getting at?

          “You know you’re going to be slammed.” The brunette commented, picking up a chocolate sample and slipping it into her mouth. “I just hope you have enough alcohol.” Some amusement bubbled up and Lena chuckled quietly to herself. “You’ll get couples wanting to party, those that managed to snag a hot date, and then all the singles hoping to find each other.” Considering the holiday, it was assumed that most just wanted to have something of a memorable night and get laid. The quiet confession had nearly been missed as the brunette perused a few other samples somewhat wishing she had someone to buy them for. Her head bobbed in response, finding familiarity in the statement. “Have you ever considered a partner?”

—

“Uh huh...” Micayla replied, noting the brunette’s very visible response to her line of questioning. "As much as you know I love seeing you at Le Rouge more, I can’t help but wonder if it’s not because you think my club is the best in the city.” She decided in that moment to leave it at that, Lena could give her as much or as little as she wanted in response, but Micayla wasn’t going to push it. It wasn’t her business who the brunette spent her time with. Even if her friendship with Caoimhín had her dying to know more. 

As her gaze returned to the chocolates before them, she selected a few pieces of salted caramel chocolate, placing them on the plate she had been given. She chuckled at Lena’s prediction for the night. “Funny how even at an anti-Valentine’s day party everyone is still only looking for a Valentine.” Shaking her head, she continued her perusal of the chocolates, until Lena’s question slammed her to a halt. While she knew something had to change, Micayla couldn’t imagine ever  giving someone else that much control over Le Rouge. It was probably an unhealthy attitude, but she was a firm believer of the old adage, ‘If you want something done right, do it yourself.’ And with something she was as passionate about as Le Rouge, Micayla couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else taking control in any way. “I don’t think a partner would ever be able to handle me.” she replied with a sigh. It was more or less true. She was too controlling, too obsessive, and never had a good work-life balance. “Have you?” she asked, wondering Lena’s opinion on the matter. If anyone would understand her hesitation, the owner of Le Comptoir probably would. 

Where: Le Rouge 

Time: 9:45PM 

@paristarters​

Bloodied, bruised and utterly spent, all Jean wanted was a drink. His ribs twinged every time he moved and his head spun with each new step to the bar but still he persisted. He wondered, in his state of bloodied pulp, if they’d sell to him but it was a risk he was willing to take. Finally, he made it to the bar and gingerly took a seat and ordered his favorite. “Old Fashioned, please.” 

—

Naturally, the state he was in caught her staff’s attention immediately. Within seconds of Jean Luc’s arrival at Le Rouge, Micayla was aware and making her way quickly from the lounge upstairs down to the bar where he was already trying to place an order. “Amelia, you can bring that drink down to my office, please.” she requested of her bartender just as she reached out to Jean and grabbed his arm. More gingerly than she normally would have, but from the sight of him, Micayla wasn’t sure where she could touch him without causing more pain. As gently as she possibly could, she lead him towards her office, shutting the door behind them as she lead him towards the couch in the corner. “What on earth are you doing here??” she asked, her voice clouded with disbelief. “You should be at a hospital.” Just then, there was a knock at the door and Micayla went to accept the drink from Amelia. “Can you get us some warm water and a clean towel?” she asked, before turning back to Jean. “What the hell happened?” There was genuine concern in her gaze as she made her way back to sit on the couch beside him, beyond simply the appearances she had to maintain for her club. 

“And yet, you still somehow manage to get a spot in my classes which are always booked out days in advance,” she started, eyes flickering upward in a show of consideration, before dropping and returning to Micayla with a nod, “Convenient, huh? Must be a glitch in the system.” The all-too subtle, almost imperceptible appearance of a smirk came to rest upon peach-hued lips. Was she messing with the woman? Oh, most definitely. And was she having a little too much fun doing it? Well… could you blame her? Many newcomers held certain skepticisms about the effectiveness of yoga, and Keziah made it her mission to prove them wrong. Micayla, especially.

Coming into an upright position across from Micayla, Keziah’s hands moved to rest against her thighs, the attempts to hydrate drowning out her poor attempt to deny she might actually enjoy the classes; that, after several weeks of it, she was beginning to see the benefits of connecting mind, body and soul. It was a triple threat, and as an instructor, she’d begun to see the minute changes in her client as well. Fingers danced along the paneled flooring, dragging them back until she balanced her weight onto the balls of her hands. “C’mon, just give me something… give me something, and I’ll let you poor me something strong at your club.”

Le Rouge had probably been the one spot in town she avoided, not for any particular reason: it just wasn’t her scene, and despite her making a very weak sell, she brought her hands together as the last of her clients poured from the studio, whilst her hands formed a slight prayer stance, “Just a tiny sign that I’m doing my job well, and I’m not some horrible yoga instructor… you know you want to.”

—

Micayla rolled her eyes again. “Apparently the system seems to want me to come to your classes.” she replied easily dismissing any possibility that she had reserved her spot in Keziah’s classes for the next several weeks. Which she had. Brown eyes followed Keziah’s movements as she moved into position across from her, as if to show just how smooth and graceful yoga could be. Micayla definitely hadn’t reached that level yet. But she had attended enough classes now to recognize how difficult the position the instructor was currently holding was despite how easy she made it look. 

Her brow cocked a bit at Keziah’s offer though. Micayla could never back down from a challenge. It was like some part of her had to prove the world wrong after her father had misjudged her all those years ago. It was like each challenge was to prove that she could prove her father wrong. A mischievous glint came to her hey eyes as she tilted her head to the side a bit, considering Keziah. “You mean, if I tell you I’m actually getting something from your classes, you’ll come to Le Rouge?” Micayla didn’t know the instructor that well, but she knew enough to know her club wasn’t exactly Keziah’s scene. 

———

Gabriel regarded his friend a little more closely, an eyebrow arched in nothing short of amusement. His hesitation over the information Micayla withheld was the only thing keeping her from being one of his closest friends; secrets made Gabriel uneasy. It was an insecurity he probably should’ve sought more therapy for, but that was a contemplation for another time. Surely, he should’ve just been happy to have someone besides Camille willing to put up with his clumsy French and his, admittedly, at times standoffish demeanor. Perhaps that was why he was so eager to learn Micayla’s secrets — so that the subject of his own wouldn’t ever come up.

“Ah, I had the booth for the whole day, but I should be wrapping up soon. We had a bit of a rush earlier, but it’s been slow over here for hours, I doubt anyone would notice my absence.” The man lifted a shoulder in a light shrug, then offering a hint of a chuckle. Gabriel noticed Micayla’s brief hesitation, over revealing just where she was headed, but decided to let the slip up go for now. “Oh yeah? No lover, waiting in the wings, on the day of love?” He had no idea why he’d asked the question; it wasn’t like anyone was waiting up for him, either. 

—

"So they wouldn’t mind if I stole you away to come with me to get some hot chocolate and some actual chocolates?” she asked, a mischievous glint to her eyes. Dragging Gabriel around the festival with her would make things a lot more bearable. Despite appearances, the two were similar in a lot of ways. And Micayla felt like she wouldn’t have to pretend to be enjoying herself with Gabriel. 

But she nearly snorted at his next question. “Hell no!” she countered, looking up at him with a roll of her eyes, swatting at his arm playfully as if he should know better. “You’ll just have to be my fill in Valentine for the day.” Her statement was laced with a teasing lilt that showed just how much stock she put into having a valentine for the day. But hey, if she got to hang out with him for a few hours before having to head off to work she wasn’t complaining. 

“Veuillez excuser mon retard. I had to run a last-minute errand for milk at the cafe.” The apology was more of a formality than anything, as Maeva knew that Micayla knew exactly what running a business was like. They may have found different niches, but the responsibility of ownership was all the same. Kissing her cousin on both cheeks in return, the younger woman sat as her brown eyes scanned the wine list. “I did, I’m sorry I left early. I guess I was just a little exhausted, but I feel much better now.” A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she reminisced her enjoyable but short-lived appearance at Le Rouge during the festival. Maybe she should let Luca know that she needed some extra help for the time being - not that they weren’t the dream team, but Maeva was at the point where she might need a little break to collect herself where business projects were concerned. 

“I was, you know Finn’s a personal favorite of mine - always makes my drinks the way I like them. He was just telling me about his weekend, I think he was disappointed I didn’t have any juicy stories to share in exchange. He and Maman have that in common,” Maeva chuckled, shaking her head. If anyone aside from her knew how overbearing yet well-intentioned Audrey Cartier could be, it was Micayla. “I know she just wants me to be happy, it’s just a lot sometimes,” the woman confessed, swirling the Bordeaux in her wine glass. “What about you, did you meet anyone worth mentioning at the party?” she asked her cousin with a coy smirk, knowing that there must have been some interesting conversations taking place within the walls of the club.

—

Micayla waved away Maeva’s apologies, a smile coming to her lips. She completely understood. Both the responsibilities that came with owning a business and sometimes interfered with your personal life and being worn out enough to need to leave social engagements early. Le Rouge was the one true love of her life and yet, it could be extremely exhausting. At this point, the brunette felt like she had little if nothing going on outside of her club. “Desiree keeping you busy?” she asked wondering if she already knew the answer.

Warmth spread through her at her cousin’s opinion of Finn. “He’s a fave of mine too.” she agreed. Finn was more than just her favorite bartender or employee, he was her person. And she was so glad that two such important people in her life got along as well. She chuckled at Maeva’s comparison to her aunt. “Auntie also wants to vicariously live through you and your escapades.” she teased, knowing full well her aunt, Maeva’s mother, wanted no such thing. But they all adored Maeva and wanted nothing but good things for her. She absolutely couldn’t blame Auntie Audrey for wanting that for her daughter. 

Sanchit chuckled, they weren’t sure how to react to the obvious jab at their confidence, then again, directness was the type of Dutch trait that they liked about people. They had a hard time dealing with people who weren’t forward about things. People in Groningen were soft-spoken, held back, but also no-nonsense, they didn’t have the time to waste their time. Mostly they liked the ‘potential-lay’, something they had managed to live without for so long, being themselves. Being themselves and not being ashamed. “Then how do I make sure i”m not an immediate turn-off?” they asked, not too sure how to carry themselves differently. Yes, there was constant doubt, that they weren’t someone’s type, that they were too eager, too talkative, too difficult.

They sat down too, when Micayla gestured, still a smile on their face, enjoying the attention. Enjoying the help. They chuckled. “Strong suit? Uhm…” They scratched their head. “I’m… funny?” Were they funny? “I’m adorable?”

“You just have to remind yourself that you are that bitch and you bring a fucking hell of a lot to the table.” she replied, a bit of a gleam in her eye as she looked over at them, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

-

They had known each other long enough that Caoimhín could see the hint of nerves as she cradled the glass. It was so subtle but he noticed and he felt guilt for making her feel that way, but he also knew it was because of how much she cared. A feeling that was mutual, the irishman willing to go to battle for her. A fact she knew, which is why her nerves confused him, but he knew a thing or two about self doubt and insecurity, so he made a note to make sure he made up for that moment. Spend some extra time with his friend, so she never doubted again his loyalty to her. 

Her smiled was returned with one of his own and he gently pulled his hand back, knowing that anything longer than a friendly reassuring gesture might make her feel uneasy. Intimacy and vulnerability were aspects he struggled with too, but friendly intimacy with someone he trusted like her, that came naturally to him and he would have to remind himself it might not be so natural for her. 

“Yes, boss.” Caoimhín saluted as the words were spoke, smirking at her, knowing it was time to shift the tone back to something light. That was until he saw that look in her eyes and he narrowed pale blues at her, waiting for what was to come next. 

“Oh I see…” He leaned back with a sigh as he reddened and then reached over to steal her drink, sipping from it. That was her payment for this conversation. “Lena is a valued customer and I thought she deserved the best service, which we can both agree is me,” he chimed, glancing at her from the rim of the glass before he took another drink. “She is beautiful,” he then added, passing the glass back to her. 

—

She smirked, Micayla loved it when he called her that. Not because she wanted to lord it over him by any means. It just made her feel good, because, in a small way, it felt like reassurance from him that she was doing a good job. And because Caoimhín’s opinion was one of the only ones that actually mattered - well, let’s just say it meant a lot.  

Letting out a chuckle as she allowed him to steal her drink, she leaned back as well, surveying him and his reaction to her bringing up the brunette. “Oh, we can, can we?” she teased. Of course he spoke nothing but the truth. While asking him to be manager had so much more to do with the fact she could trust him and truly valued him as a friend than simple job performance, Micayla would never deny that Finn wasn’t amazing at his job. There was an ease with which he did his job, as if he didn’t even have to think about it, it all just came naturally. And with his charm & wit, he was easily a favorite with nearly all their clients... especially the ladies. 

“So what kind of service are we talking about exactly?” she asked, cocking a mischievous brow at him before shaking away the teasing lilt to her line of questioning. “She’s freaking gorgeous.” she agreed easily, hoping that just talking about her would get Finn to open up about his feelings. She was happy to give credit where credit was due. Lena was a beautiful woman, that was a fact. She just couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more beyond simple appreciation of the woman’s looks. 

The edge in Micayla’s voice wasn’t lost on Margo, and if she was being honest, she didn’t blame her sister for her feelings. Their father pushed the both of them in opposite directions in order to craft the future he so desperately wanted. Margo wondered, for a moment, if he knew just how much damage he would leave in his wake. She wondered if he knew that he was crumbling whatever relationship his daughters might have had with one another. If only Margo had the words to tell Micayla she wished things were different. That she wished she had never been the ‘golden child’, with all those expectations crushing down on her. 

The only thing she could do was blink at her sister. “Come on, Mic.” She said with a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes slightly in exasperation, instead of lamenting with her sister’s opinion like she should have. “Don’t be like that. Can we have one pleasant conversation, please? Maybe one where we don’t rag on Dad?” That was, perhaps, asking a lot, but perhaps she had something to do with that as well. Margo and pleasant weren’t exactly always synonymous.

Margo nodded encouragingly. “That’s good… I mean it, I’ve read about your place. Nothing but good things.” Had she just admitted that she had been watching her sister from afar? Constantly keeping her eyes on her, but never actually reaching out. She frowned at her words. “Hectic or not, we’re sisters. I should be better about checking in on you.“ Her phone buzzed loudly in her purse, probably a call from work, and as much as she itched to answer it, her eyes stayed glued to her little sister. “Look, I know this probably isn’t the best venue for this, but I’m… Here’s my business card.” She said, pulling it out and holding it for her to take. The nice stationary and deep embroidered gold ‘Harris Enterprises’ was bright as day. “Your business has been great, but if you need anything, just ask. Your last name is still Harris last I checked, so it’s yours anyway as far I’m concerned.” It was only after the words left her lips, that she had probably said the wrong thing. Again.

—

Years of feeling like her older sister chose their father over her came rushing past the barrier Micayla had worked so hard to put up just from a few sentences. It had been obvious early on that their father had chosen Margo over her, but Micayla had thought - well, hoped albeit naively - that her the bond they had shared in their childhood would cause Margo to even pretend to choose her. Clearly, she had been wrong. She knew she shouldn’t let their past affect her like this. Their father had been dead for ten years now. And yet, here she was still being caught up in the anger, hurt, and betrayal he left instilled in her. Her eyes flashed. “Still defending him, I see.” shaking her head just the tiniest bit. This. This was why she had felt so abandoned and forgotten by her big sister. Margo couldn’t ever just take her side. Even if it was something as small as this.

As Margo continued to speak, admitting she’d read articles and whatnot about Le Rouge, the anger that had been bubbling up inside of Micayla threatened to spill over. This was what she had always wanted. She had wanted that kind of relationship with her big sister where she kept tabs on her and read news articles about her and all of that crap. But she also wanted a big sister who was in her life. And the fact that Margo had been doing all this, but from afar... well, it still managed to hurt. She opened her mouth, about to let loose her feelings about it all exactly. The ringing of Margo’s phone cut her short, her gaze flitted down to Margo’s purse where the sound was coming from. The interruption was enough to reel her emotions back in. If only for a little bit. But then Margo was handing her her business card and as Micayla took it, looking down at the name Harris which seemed to grow every second till it was all she could see, she snapped. “I built this business, this life, by myself. Without his name. I didn’t need it then and I definitely don’t need it now.” Turning on her heel, she stormed off, cursing herself for letting her sister elicit this kind of public reaction.

As the mass of bodies that just moments before had been pulsing to the beat of the music on the dance floor now scrambled for the exits, the sprinklers continued soaking everything in the club in their wake. “Make sure he actually fucking leaves.” Micayla practically growled at her head of security. She wouldn’t put it past the police officer to use the opportunity, the chaos, that currently engulfed Le Rouge to his advantage and considering how close he had just come to unearthing everything, there was no way in hell Micayla wasn’t going to double check every single move the club made from this point on. With surprising clarity, she moved towards the fire alarm, pressing the lever back into place so that the piercing alarms finally stopped and the sprinklers let out their last trickles of water. But there was still a ringing in her ears. As she stood there, surveying her club, the mess left behind, the reality of what had almost happened closing in on her, Micayla found her chest heaving as her breaths became shorter and more ragged, panic threatening to consume her. She was overcome with an emotion she hadn’t felt in years - something her painstaking attention to detail and order had made unnecessary for a long time - she felt anger, and frustration, and worst of all, fear. 

“How the fuck did he know the password?!” she called out, to no one in particular and yet to every one of her employees who were still there.