Author's note:
I thought for a long time about whether I should post this side-story, but eventually decided to because it's important.
This side-story focuses on the relationship between Keary and Edith (read: boy X girl, or rather, boy X older woman). If it's not to your taste, this side story can be skipped, but it does hold some information about Keary's past and background.
The events of this story take place 1-2 years before the events of Vol.1.
...
From the moment she laid eyes on him, she knew. Everything about him, every move–the fall of his dark hair over marble features, the arch of his neck as he bent over the piano, the hands that flew over the ebony and ivory, sometimes caressing, sometimes swift and sure–all of it screamed a sensual, feral elegance.
She had to have him.
"Who's this now?" she asked.
Across the table, the lounge manager looked up from his drink and followed her gaze. "Oh, him? That's Keary. We scouted him from M— bar a couple of months back. Quite talented, isn't he?"
"Hmm…" She swirled the ice around in her glass, her eyes never leaving the dark-haired pianist. "Talented fingers indeed."
"Oi Edith. Stop it with that look." The manager clicked his tongue at her. "The kid is at least 10 years younger than you; leave him alone, you predator!"
But that's exactly it, she thought, lifting her glass to cover her smile and the signal she sent to her chauffeur. You can't stop natural instinct.
...
He kept her waiting for over thirty minutes from the time her driver handed him the note. She had watched from the backseat of her car as he took it, read it, then put it into his pocket. Instead of dropping everything and following after the chauffeur, as others before him had done, he instead continued leaning against the building wall, standing just out of the circle of light cast by the streetlamp, taking drag after slow drag from his cigarette, then lighting a fresh stick with the dying one and doing the same.
After some time had passed, her chauffeur, clearly irritated by his insolence, looked to her reflection in the rearview mirror for instruction.
"Ma'am? Should I hurry him up a bit?"
She held up a single finger to restrain him. She was quite certain that the boy would come, but the small bit of remaining doubt grew with each minute, a fertile playground for a feeling of suspense that made her tingle.
And they called him a kid. She smirked. The wait only made her want him more. Whatever he decided tonight, the hunt was on, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.
He might have kept this up for much longer if it hadn't begun to rain. A drop landed loudly on the roof of the car, and then another, and another, until a steady patter engulfed the vehicle. She sat up, attention fixed on the figure in the shadows.
What will you do now, young K?
Still holding his cigarette, he stood and started in their direction. For a moment, as he walked a couple of paces beyond the car, it seemed that he might actually blow off her invitation and simply leave. Then, discarding his cigarette with a careless flick, he turned back, casually crossing behind the vehicle and opening the door across from her, then slipped inside without looking at her as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, as if it was his ride. She watched him with delight as he undid the top button of his jacket with one hand, then ran his long fingers through his damp hair, smoothing it back from his face. Up close, he was even more beautiful than she had first thought.
And so the game begins. She signalled the driver with a look, and the car began to move.
He sat contemplating the rivulets streaming down the window for some time before speaking. "Where are we going?" His voice was low and velvety, and sent a delicious shiver running up her skin.
"North."
"I can see that." He didn't turn from the glass as he repeated, "Where are we going?"
Her lips twitched in amusement. Such a strong mind. Taming him is going to be fun. "Somewhere private so we can talk." She placed a delicate hand on his thigh. "Don't worry. Reeves can send you anywhere you need to be afterward."
He spared a fleeting glance down at her hand, then returned his gaze to the window, and maintained his silence for the rest of the journey.
The car eventually pulled into the grounds of the W–, a large, well-known hotel, but drove on past the main foyer to stop in front of the entrance for the serviced apartments. Reeves, the chauffeur, hurried out to open an umbrella for her and escort her up the steps. Once she was under shelter, he doubled back, only to find the young man already stepping out of the sheet of autumn rain, brushing droplets from his blazer jacket and dark hair. He stopped, hands in his pockets, and looked up at her, waiting.
Averting her face to hide her smile, she said, "Come. Let's get out of this wretched rain."
They took the elevator up to the 20th floor, and when the lift opened, she led him down a long, carpeted hallway before finally stepping through one of the doors along the dimly-lit corridor.
Key in hand, she waved to indicate the living room area and the bottles of alcohol that lined the marble kitchen countertop. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you in a moment." She vanished into a room around the corner.
Hands still in his pockets, Keary wandered slowly into the suite. The bottles had all been opened, and quite a few of them were whiskies, expensive ones. There were a few glasses on the rack by the sink: two wine glasses, of different sizes; a champagne flute; and a whisky tumbler. He picked up the tumbler and opened the refrigerator, which greeted him with stacks of wines. She had an exceptionally large collection of rosé wines which took up half of the chilled space, leaving none for any proper food except for a compartment for cheeses.
He gave a small snort as he reached for the icebox. What a bourgeois appetite.
In the living room, the only personal artefact she had added was a picture frame that stood under the large flat-screen television. It held three generations of a family: an elderly couple seated in front of three adults. On the leftmost, a man holding a little girl of about 3 or 4 in his arms leaned in close to two women: a lady who looked remarkably like the woman he had followed here, and then the lady herself, but much younger. There were also traces of a man who had occupied the rightmost side of the picture, but he had been cut out, leaving behind only a hand, which rested lightly on the waist of Keary's hostess.
He was seated cross-legged on the armchair when she emerged at last. Clad in a loosely-bound silk bathrobe that revealed her cleavage and showed off her curves, she had primed herself to be seductive, but was caught off-guard when she saw the glass of rosé he had prepared for her standing on the coffee table.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said as she bent forward to pick up the flute. "How did you know what I like?"
He swirled the ice in his glass. "Your collection was quite telling of your tastes," he looked directly at her, "Ms. Edith."
"Oh?" He's sharp. And what fascinating eyes! Grey? "I didn't introduce myself."
He took a sip from his drink, not bothering to remind her that the receptionists at the lobby had greeted her by name. She must have been staying here for a long time. Moreover, if she had seen how the hotel staff had angled their heads aside to whisper to each other as they scanned him up and down, she showed no sign. Perhaps a single woman with her means and age was well beyond any pretension of shame. But he had had a long day, and was not keen to linger around for small talk. His bike was back at the bar. Eyes still on her, he lowered his glass and asked, "Why am I here?"
"Well, Keary," she replied, with just a slight emphasis on his name as she rose from the couch, "I have a proposition for you, of course."
"And what would that be?"
She stood just behind him at the full-length glass doors that led to the balcony, looking out upon the sparkling city that lay beyond. Straight-shooter, huh? Well, she could handle it. Too much flirting could breed affection, after all. "I'd like you to come by and keep me company sometimes." She turned and placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging him gently.
The rings she had been wearing earlier were gone, but he could still see the grooves they had left on her fingers, all except the fourth one. Still, it was better to make sure. "I'm sure a lady as attractive as yourself has plenty of suitors to choose from. Perhaps even a husband, or a family?"
Her laugh was short and sharp, and there was an edge to her words when she answered, "Trust me darling, there's nobody you need to be concerned about." Regaining her composure, she leaned forward to press her bosom against his shoulders. Her hand slipped slowly down his chest to skilfully undo some buttons and slide under the fabric as she murmured softly into his ear, "My offer has no strings, and I promise it'll be worth your while. I'm sure we can be… useful to each other."
She traced the rim of his ear sensuously with her lower lip and saw him swallow. Emboldened, she placed lingering kisses along his neck, savouring his scent as she tasted his skin. When he finally turned his head towards her, there was a smirk on his face, but she also saw his faint flush and darkened eyes.
"Then, why don't you show me exactly how you'd like me to be useful to you?"
...