Archer hung up on the call with a grimace upon his visage.
'Selena Fawkner, huh?'
Much as it did sound like the name of a country bumpkin, it seemed that such a person had piqued Alexander's wandering interest—something that had not occurred for centuries.
'That could only mean...'
Realization gradually dawned on Archer as he put two and two together. The white-haired man smirked quietly and soon vanished from the building.
***
"Frank, do you believe in destiny?"
The 42-year-old driver glanced up at the rearview mirror, his lips twisted into a sad frown. His short, black hair was slicked back and held in place by thick layers of gel - layers so dense that the driver's pitch-black hair glowed in the afternoon sunlight spilling into the taxi.
"I am afraid not, Miss Fawkner," Frank responded, pushing up his dark sunglasses with one hand. His voice was mysteriously low and edgy though his features were amiable and kind. He noticeably avoided my wistful gaze as I stared through the window at the receding world.
The small, pointy cluster of buildings and the gentle tides of the ocean were escaping from the hold of my senses.
"That's quite sad, Frank. I thought we were quite similar, the first time we met," I revealed and gazed sentimentally at the lonely back of his gradually balding head - the reason for his chosen hairstyle. It was 2:46 pm and I sat quietly at the back with my red purse clutched to my stomach.
He coughed awkwardly. I could almost hear him begging for mercy in between. "I'm glad that you thought so, Miss Fawkner. We did only meet for the first time this morning so I'm thankful that you hold me in a good light. However, please refrain from such...um, warm comments towards me when Master Sear is around," he explained, keeping his gaze fixated on the empty, sun-kissed asphalt, "The master is sure to be displeased if he ever hears you."
I rolled my eyes and smiled amusedly. "Why would he? His daughter's babysitter is fond of his driver - what fault is in that?" I asked, finding it peculiar that Frank would have such a musing.
He made it sound like Mr. Sear would be jealous - jealous of his married driver no less. Would that not be quite pathetic of him?
I blew into my cheeks then giggled at the thought.
'Jealous?'
Indeed, he was quite...lascivious for a widower, but he was much too old for me. Quite divinely handsome, yes, but the wrinkles beneath his eyes had never slipped my keen inspection. Quite frequently, I would find myself wantonly guessing his age but it was all in vain.
Frank smiled softly, his weary brown eyes hidden behind his glinting dark sunglasses. "Miss Fawkner, I must admit, you are clearly unaccustomed to the tendencies of a lovestruck man," he muttered. He spoke as though addressing a frail lamb that had trodden into a lion's den.
I raised a brow inquisitively. "And you are, Frank?"
"I am a man. Of course I am," he answered, sounding a bit offended yet still focusing on the road and making a sharp left turn into a tree-lined road.
"Hmm. I noticed. But that is not what I was meaning. You sound like you've...somewhat beheld...the romantic advances of your kind," I said, my left brow furrowing as I observed him.
"Well, you are quite fair yourself...with a slim waist...sturdy build. I can see how they would want to make a mother out of you, in their own predatorial way. Did Mr. Sear, perhaps...with his wild libido raging out of hand, ever try to get his mitts on you?"
At my directness, Frank had quickly fallen into very disturbing but brief silence, mortified by my earnest question. His palms on the steering wheel were perspiring and visibly trembling.
"Milady!" He suddenly exclaimed, his voice raspy. His voice was pleading with me.
"Uh, alright, alright. I won't delve deeper into your dark past. You must be scarred," I relented, thinking I was right after all(Mr. Sear was a wilder beast than I'd thought. No wonder Isolde called him an evil dragon), and yet Frank's gaze had morphed into a brooding glare that made my hair rise even at the back seat.
"Please divert to a different topic lest I lose my grip while driving," he enunciated in a softer tone.
I nodded. I had been planning to divert the topic sooner or later, but that had been my manner of gradually creating small talk. (That had been my only idea of 'small talk'.) Now, I could finally ask him what I was truly interested in.
"Mmm. Well then, can you tell me what work it is Mr. Sear does? I happen to know an 'Alexander Sear' myself, though I've only heard of him from others," I said, at last, focusing my curious eyes on Frank the traumatized driver.
The man known as 'Alexander Sear', from my knowledge, was a renowned billionaire who dabbled in numerous industries. A person whose existence was legendary, even to my rotten family, the acclaimed Ergot's.
Before his name, our conglomerate was but a newborn lamb taking its first steps; we could only cower at the existence of such a mythical force. That person was wealthy enough to be recognized in Forbes Top 100, and yet evasive enough(to the media) to not have a face to his name.
That's why I had felt that Mr. Sear's name rang a bell. Now, I had finally recalled this titbit of information.
So, was the owner of the castle - the hot and cold man who swept me into a blistering tornado - the same 'Alexander Sear' who had wordlessly vanished from the earth six years ago?
Frank hummed from the front seat as though thinking. "I am not sure if I'm supposed to tell you, Miss," he responded hesitantly.
"What then, is he in the Mafia?"
He chuckled and yet there was a dishonest rasp in his booming voice and a melancholic wrinkle to his grin.
"Not quite, I'd say. Nonetheless, I am sure that the master will reveal to you what needs to be revealed. In due time," he answered.
I nodded. 'So he is in the Mafia, or at least a criminal organization,' I speculated thoughtfully from his ambiguity. That could only mean that the two Alexanders were one and the same.
'Maybe destiny does exist after all,' I thought, recalling the torture I had undergone while enshrined by the falsehoods of the Ergot's.
I had never been a self-dependent person.
Honestly, I was prone to relying on others. Everyone who lived and breathed would eventually succumb to this fate of interdependence.
In a way, though, I personally was an irritating pest - but a very low-key and manipulative one.