The waiter sets down my cinnamon-spiced latte.
"Thank you."
Next, he serves Kelsey her caramel macchiato.
"Thanks," she says, even though her eyes are on something beyond him.
I survey the world through the tinted frames of my sunglasses. On the same corner street, seated in front of our coffee shop. The weather is ambiguous; the sun is out, but the air is cool, the wind scant.
"I was quite surprised by your call," she says, giving me a teasing smile. "I haven't seen you at all these past few weeks. And if it's like that now, it means I'd rarely see you when you're actually married. This alliance thing doesn't sound so fun anymore."
I take up a spoon to stir it idly inside my latte. "I'm going to be his future fake wife, not his slave. We can still hang out, of course."
"It's not going to be the same," she says with an exasperated exhale, then her eyes dart somewhere else for a second. "I used to be your plus one at these snobbish galas. Now, I guess—for appearances, Vance will be attending them as your date."
I scoff at that, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "Yeah, no, his priorities take precedence over my own. You know this weekend he has some business meeting, and he wants me to go with him—I can't even make this up—so I can be his arm candy. "
Kelsey's mouth rounds. "What?"
"Yeah, so I can sit there and 'look pretty' whilst the men talk business. I am actually quoting him word-for-word."
Kelsey releases an explosive breath. "Darling you you better hope to God we don't meet because instead of people attending y'all wedding, they'll be attending his wake. What an asshole!"
I quirk my brows in mute accord.
"Does he know you're a distinguished and highly educated woman? Not some bombastic bimbo he can degrade."
"He knows all about that. In fact—"
"I'm sorry," she interjects apologetically. Her eyes go beyond my shoulder. "Don't turn now, but ever since we sat down, this man has been ogling you. And not in a flattering way, but the way a lion looks at a gazelle."
I bristle, not moving a muscle. I straighten up. "Is he still looking now?"
She takes up her drink and draws a polite sip, then nods.
I have to look.
I lean back to twist my shoulders, throwing a glance at a man two tables from us. And he's not even hiding the fact that he's watching me. He's a middle-aged Japanese man with his slick and dark hair like ink. His face is a canvas of stern lines steeped in solemnity. Sharp, high cheekbones lead to a strong jawline. His lips are thin, set in a perpetual line of seriousness. But it's his eyes that draw me in, and at the same time, push me away. They are dark, almost black, and his piercing stare feels as though it can see through my very soul.The sleeves of his black shirt is rolled up to his elbows to expose the tapestry of tattoos, exuding a presence of menace and danger—commanding and almost oppressive.
I look forward, fear jumpstarts my flight-or-flight response.
"Kels."
"Yes?"
"Let's go." I gather my bags, slipping the phone back into my purse and setting it on my lap. "Now, please."
***
"Luciano?"
I rush into the kitchen. Silas closes the door to the refrigerator with a quizzical look. A bottle of water in his hand. My shoulders sag, deflating with a disappointed breath.
"Have you seen Luciano?"
He opens the bottle and shakes his head. "I think he's still back at his apartment. He went to go grab a few things."
I nod, turning away to leave.
"Wait."
I pause.
"What's wrong?"
I face him, unable to subdue my annoyance. "Nothing."
"When are you going to learn that lying to me is a waste of time so…" He moves to lift himself on the island counter, plopping down on the edge. "Let's try this again. What's wrong?"
I stroll a few steps closer to him. "I just… I just wanted to know more about the Yakuza."
Silas's eyes drain of warmth. "You don't have to worry about them," he says sternly.
"I know," I say gently. "But I kinda want to know more about the people who have a death warrant over my family. I'm just curious, Silas. That's it. I thought Luciano could shed some light or something."
Silas sighs, his face free from play. "There's not much to say. They're a crime syndicate—organized crime, that kind of stuff. They're into the drug trade, trafficking weapons and human cargo. They basically like the Japanese Traíd, but way more dangerous."
Dread blooms in my gut—something I fail to hide.
"Avie?" He hops off the counter, leaving behind the bottle to walk up to me. "What's going on? Did you see something?"
They have enough to worry about as it is and I don't want to raise a false alarm. Besides, if that man could have been anyone, so I don't want to leap to the worst case scenario. It would only elicit a radical response.
I conjure up a compelling smile, shaking my head. "No, nothing. I was just curious."
"Avara, that you?"
A moment later, dad strides into the kitchen. "I was doing some preparation work with the deputy for an upcoming press conference. My first one since my inauguration, so there's going to be a lot of eyes. And I need your help. I'd love for you to do an opening speech."
I nod. "Sure."
I glance back at worried-looking Silas before I follow dad out.
***
Kelsey and I arrive at the grand ballroom of a five-star hotel, where the charity gala for the Afro-American project is being hosted. The room is awash with a glittering assemblage, all ready to flex their wealth and look good for the cameras. I already recognise a few high-profile individuals, from public figures to politicians and philanthropists. Kelsey gasps, then hooks my arm with hers to draw us closer.
"Am I hallucinating or is that your forever-crush, Grayson Adler?"
"Where?" I say too quickly.
After a brief scan, I spot him. A black streak against the golden cream landscape. His debonair personality, paired with his disarming charm and knee-weakening smile, makes him irresistible. You can't help but to gravitate towards him, boisterous and brimming with brio.
"Think we should say hello?"
I gape at her. She wags her brows at me mischievously.
"Are you kidding? No."
She pouts. "You don't want to?"
"No."
"Well, I do." With the exclamation of an opera singer, she beckons him. "Grayson!"
He glances in our direction. I look away for a split-second. He excuses himself from the cluster of suited men he was entertaining. He approaches us with an assertive gait, showcasing a stellar smile, leaving me star-struck. Grayson is Governor Adler's son and I've known him for years, but from a distance, we both have duties that demand a lot of our attention. I sort of have a celebrity-like crush on him—nothing serious—even though he's not a celebrity. But my feelings towards him are alike in nature—someone I could never have.
"Kayla, was it?"
She smiles good-naturedly. "Close, it's Kelsey."
He offers her a rueful smile. "Forgive me, I'm forced to memorize the names of people I don't like. Hardly leaves room for the people I do. Nice to see you again."
"Likewise."
His eyes fall on me, clay-gray like calm waters on an overcast day.
"Avara," he says with a familiar fondness.
"Ah-oh," I say with conjured-up concern. "Are you trying to say you don't like me?"
He smiles humouredly. "I couldn't even if I tried."
Kels gives me a bewildered look, failing to hide her smile. "Well. If you don't mind me, I have important business with the buffet table over there." She sends me one last sly smile. "Excuse me."
She drifts away, and my eyes follow her for a moment.
"I'm sorry I couldn't attend Mayor Alden's dinner party."
I look back at him, musing his apology. "Then why are you saying sorry to me?"
"Because you're the only one I would've wanted to see if I did attend." His hands slip into the pockets of his pants and he shrugs coyly. "But perhaps I shouldn't be saying stuff like that."
"Why not?" I blurt, wrangling with the excitement in my voice. I clear my throat. "What would stop you?"
He gives a stunned but subtly mischievous look. "Your billionaire boyfriend? Word on the street—every street—is that you're dating Vance Vacheron, or am I wrong?" he asks with bold hopefulness.
I crush a scowl, and I light up a smile. "No, you're right. We're together," I say through a strained smile.
He looks around mockingly. "So where is he? This is the kind of event that one would take their partner to."
I look away—a glimpse of inky black. "Uh, well, he had a business thing he had to go to."
An aghast look enters his eyes. "What man would choose anything other than his woman?"
"One that doesn't consider her his property." Vance announces, approaching us from the right with a dark blue, long velvet box in his hand. "And wanted to surprise his woman by showing her how invaluable she is to him."
Vance secures his free arm around my frame, reeling me in to capture my lips with his. And his eyes flick up to glare at Grayson, eyes glittering with malice before he ends the kiss with a cute nose nuzzle. I pull away to stand at his side, but his arm remains bound around my waist.
"This is for you, love."
I take the box from him, and I open it. A sparkling white diamond necklace and the pendant is a stone I don't recognise, a glimmering sapphire blue like the teardrop of the ocean. Vance plucks it out of the box and goes behind me to lace it around my neck.
"Benitoite." He ties the clasp. "This rare stone exceeds a diamond's rarity."
"Wow," I say breathlessly. "I don't know what to say."
"Wow, indeed," Grayson remarks, with an unimpressed look in his eyes whilst maintaining his charmer's smile. "My dog has a collar like that, quite similar in design."
"Doubt your dog wears a collar worth millions. Thirteen point one, to be exact." Vance sizes him up with a scathing look that could dash anyone else's self-esteem to pieces. "Not that it couldn't, but I doubt its owner could afford it."
Whilst a tirade of wounded and toxic masculinity ensues, a glimpse of inky black seizes my gaze again with his thousand yard stare. And this time, he makes his presence known to me, making undaunted eye contact. The Japanese man.