His Favorite Sin

2.1: TRUE FRIENDS

Nine Years Ago

There was very little information one could find on the internet about Mr. Ben Dvorak. And when one did find something, such as an article, they didn’t go into much detail.

One of the few things that could be found about the family was that they were farmers. This news made no sense at first to Dahlia because the house they lived in looked like it could pass as some modernized European castle. Further investigation, however, revealed they were a generational family of farmers. The whole town initially began as a farming community working under the Dvoraks. The rows of cornfields that ran for miles, which Dahlia had to pass by on her way to their home, were a very tiny fraction of the land they owned altogether. They didn’t just own crop farms but also poultries and other agribusinesses scattered around.

There was nothing about their net worth, just speculations of figures that left Dahlia’s jaw hanging. But overall, the family kept a very low profile.

One suitcase and a tote bag were enough for Dahlia to pack the essentials needed for her limited stay at Mr. Dvorak’s. She had informed her nana about her new living arrangements, and although her nana had been skeptical about it, asking never-ending questions, the elderly woman knew she couldn’t change her granddaughter’s already made-up mind. So she only pleaded with Dahlia to be extra cautious. She also planned on paying Mr. Dvorak a visit once her health allowed her. The old woman had a bad case of arthritis that made it difficult for her to even walk.

After accepting the job, Mr. Dvorak had gone over what was expected of Dahlia. Lance could fend for himself pretty well, she was told, even with his disability. He grew up and spent his whole life in that house, so he was familiar with its surroundings and could move around with ease, needing no help. He barely left the house anyway.

Previously, his mum had dedicated her time to assisting him, but she could no longer do so. No further explanation was given as to why that is, and even though Mr. Dvorak spoke cordially with her, Dahlia knew not to pry. The same way, she knew to be formal and still call him Mr. Dvorak, even though he once told her she could refer to him as Ben.

It was just something vague about the master of the house that she couldn’t quite put her finger on; the vibe he gave off.

Mr. Dvorak always spoke and acted pleasantly to everyone, or at least that’s how Dahlia had seen him act to her and his employees, since those were the only people she had seen him interact with during the short time she had known him. But no matter how warm his smiles seemed or how charming he spoke, there was a disconcerting way he could make those around him feel. He had an intimidating aura that surrounded him, making everyone else feel anxious.

For instance, when he told Dahlia she could feel at home, he followed with an advice for her to never leave the house late at night without supervision, which was understandable since she was now under his care. He wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to her under his watch. However, the way he phrased it made it seem more like an order than a suggestion.

It was on her first night in Mr. Dvorak's home when he had called her over to his study, which was dark and only lit up by a battery lamp on his desk. There was a blackout from the storm, and the generator hadn’t come on yet.

‘I know kids your age love to socialize till late at night. However, for your safety, I advise against leaving the house past ten. There are wild animals in those woods; we try to keep them out, but still. And we can’t exactly “hurt” them legally because we’re trying to “save the planet by preserving wildlife,” even though the wild wouldn’t think twice about killing us.’ He sounded sarcastic, so Dahlia smiled in return.

‘I will be careful, Mr. Dvorak,’ she promised.

He suddenly paused and tilted his head up at her from his seat at the desk. ‘I’m sure you will. But still, I will be more at ease if you don’t leave the house too late.’ The smile slowly left her face when she noticed all traces of amusement gone from his face.

‘Okay...’

His smile returned after a chilling, long pause. ‘Just for your safety,’ he added.

Maybe she was overthinking it, and he was genuinely only concerned for her safety. Perhaps it was just her, still overawed and unable to shake the fact that she was in the same space as such a wealthy figure, and was intimidated by his position. But still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off about that man.

It didn’t matter anyway. This was only a temporary job until they got a real, qualified assistant for Lance. For now, she would just follow the rules because the pay was too good to ignore.

Lance was a sweetheart, though. She was still unpacking, settling in, and arranging her stuff in her new room, which was close to his for ease of the job, when she noticed the lone figure standing in her doorway. She had left the door open while she unpacked.

‘Oh, hey.’ She was going to wave at him, but then halted her hand in midair as she recalled he couldn’t see that action.

In his hand, he was holding the stem of a white rose, and next to his leg was his dark cat that still loved to stare a lot. Noticing he remained at the doorway, Dahlia walked over. ‘You can come in, Lance.’ She touched his arm and guided him inside. His cat followed, too, instantly stalking and sniffing its way around while she led Lance to a chair in one corner, where he could sit.

Straightening up, she noticed his cat had found a spot on the windowsill to curl up with its yellow eyes settling back on her.

‘I was in the greenhouse and thought to bring something back to welcome you properly,’ said Lance, bringing her attention away from the cat as he handed her the rose stem. ‘I’d like us to be true friends.’ She instantly realized he was indirectly quoting from one of the poems that she had read to him the first time she was here, a verse from José Martí’s book.

‘I have a white rose to tend

...I give it to the true friend.’

‘Oh.’ She took the flower and observed that the prickles had been thoughtfully pruned. ‘Thank you. White roses are actually my favorite.’ She divulged, then leaned in and whispered, ‘Reds are overrated, I tell you.’ That caused a smile to break out on his lips.

Keeping the flower down on the bedside table, she made a mental note to get a small jar of water later to put it in. Once more, her eyes caught those of his cat’s by the window, which was freakishly still glued to her and her every movement. It irked her. ‘Hey, Lance? What’s your cat’s name?’

‘He doesn’t have one.’ Dahlia heard him shrug and spared him a glance.

‘Then how do you call it or get its attention?’

‘He knows when he’s needed.’ His answer caused her to raise an eyebrow, amused, and look away from the cat back to him. Surprisingly, he was serious.

Her eyebrows furrowed in question. Lance was sitting facing the bedroom door while she stood more to his side, by her bed.

How did a cat just know when it was needed?

Dahlia’s gaze flittered quietly between him and his ever-staring cat, and she, for some reason, got an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, especially when she held the cat’s gaze.

Turns out it wasn’t just his father who was the only odd one.