She walked up to the rooftop, glancing over her shoulder. She had asked Edna about how to get there, and though reluctant, Edna had eventually given her directions.
The air was fresh and cool against her skin, carrying a faint floral scent from the rooftop garden. A soft breeze brushed through her hair, sending a subtle shiver down her spine. She inhaled deeply, letting the refreshing sensation seep into her pores, enjoying the way it seemed to clear her mind.
She looked around, taking in the vibrant flowers that decorated the rooftop. Their colors ranged from deep reds to bright yellows, each petal glistening faintly under the muted sunlight. A garden seat and an outdoor table stood at the left-hand side of the rooftop, framed by vines trailing down the railing.
Her eyes darted around as if searching for something. When she couldn't find it, she let out a soft whistle, her tone steady and melodic.
A bird with iridescent blue and purple feathers swooped toward her, its wings catching the light as it neared. A smile crept across her face. She raised her hand, and the bird landed delicately on her fingers, its tiny claws gripping her skin.
"Shadow," she said softly, gazing into the bird's piercing black eyes.
"Ivy," the bird responded, its voice clear yet mechanical, echoing faintly like a recording.
"Wrong intel," Vica said with a shrug, her tone flat but her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Hey, Saint... hold on," Shadow replied sharply through the bird. Vica's lips tightened in irritation; she hated it when he used her real name during a mission. It was an unspoken rule never to slip up like that.
"You've been too relaxed," she said coldly. "You're forgetting the ethics you grew by."
"Loosen up, V," Shadow said, exhaling sharply.
Vica rolled her eyes. "Get to business. When do I leave for the mission?" Her voice shifted back to the cold, clipped tone of Ivy Warren—the version of herself who had no time for pleasantries.
"The left wing of the bird contains a note," Shadow explained, his tone serious. "Your target still has a tap on your phone. He might suspect the bird, but there's not much he can do. You've got tomorrow and the day after to leave."
Vica moved toward the edge of the rooftop, leaning over the railing. The city sprawled below her, distant and muted, as if she were standing on the edge of a different world. The sky seemed so close that it felt like she could reach out and touch it.
She exhaled deeply, her breath visible for a moment in the cool air. "I'll be with you today. Don't take other contracts until I'm done with this," she murmured absentmindedly.
Shadow was surprised by her words. Her tone sounded... different. It wasn't the detached professionalism he was used to. "It's been almost two months, and you haven't made progress on your mission," he said, frustration evident. "The contracts are lined up—they want you."
"There's progress," she replied coolly. "But the ultimate mission is yet to be confirmed. I can't act prematurely."
An unusual silence followed. Shadow always had something to say, but now he hesitated. Though Vica was cold and distant to almost everyone, Shadow was the closest thing to a friend she had. She wished—just for once—he would ask how she felt about all this.
"When should I expect you?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"Not later than 2 a.m.," she replied sharply.
Shadow was momentarily startled by her response but quickly masked it. He had learned never to let her decisions surprise him. She was her father's replica, both in action and demeanor.
"I'll be expecting you, then," Shadow said after a pause. "Come to House Sapphire. They're unaware it exists."
"Noted," she replied curtly.
Shadow hesitated, then asked, "How have you been, V? Is he giving you a hard time?"
Vica felt a flicker of something—relief, maybe? It was fleeting, but it reminded her of how she used to feel when her mother was still around. "He isn't hard on me..."
"Who isn't hard on you?" a voice interrupted from behind.
Vica didn't flinch. She calmly let the bird fly away, not bothering to turn around. She didn't need to see to know who it was.
Xavier walked toward her, his gaze following the bird as it disappeared into the horizon. "Why did you let the bird go?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
Vica turned slowly. His jacket was off, leaving him in a crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt. "Because you scared him away," she said sarcastically.
"Who were you talking about with your bird friend?" Xavier teased, the narcissistic edge in his voice impossible to miss. "I think I heard my name called a thousand times."
"No one can blame a dreamer for always dreaming," she retorted with a scoff.
Xavier stepped closer, shortening the distance between them. His presence was magnetic yet suffocating. He pulled her toward him with a sly smile. "I get wild dreams all the time, and you wouldn't want to know what I dream about," he murmured, his voice low and deliberate.
Vica searched his eyes. The burning intensity in them startled her for a moment, but only for a moment. "A leopard isn't scared of the wild," she replied, her tone unwavering.
The sky darkened suddenly, clouds rolling in to blot out the sun. Neither of them noticed; they were too locked in each other's gaze.
"Vica…" Xavier's voice was barely a whisper.
"Xa…" She began, but a sudden roar of thunder cut her off. Startled, she froze. Xavier instinctively pulled her into his arms.
"We should get out of here before it rains," he said, glancing up at the sky.
As if on cue, the heavens opened, and rain poured down in heavy sheets. Xavier grabbed her wrist and led her toward the door.
He pressed the button to open it, but nothing happened. He tried again, harder this time, but the door remained stubbornly shut. "Damn it!" he cursed under his breath. "The door's jammed."
Rain drenched them both within seconds. Vica stood still, seemingly unfazed by the downpour. Xavier, however, was growing increasingly worried.
"Come here," he said softly.
Vica didn't move. He pulled her closer, and she stumbled slightly into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her tone laced with disdain.
"Keeping you warm," he replied simply.
Vica scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Are you even warm?"
Her lips were turning pale, almost blue. Xavier gently brushed his thumb across her lips. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "We'll get out of here soon."
The rain continued to fall, the sound filling the awkward silence between them. Xavier tightened his hold, their proximity now impossible to ignore.
Drenched from head to toe, Vica shivered slightly, though her expression remained stoic. She had always been good at masking her feelings, but this moment felt... different. The rain plastered her hair against her face, and droplets clung to her lashes like tiny crystals.
Xavier's hold on her remained firm, yet not overbearing. He wasn't sure what scared him more: the sight of her trembling or the thought of her leaving again.
"This storm came out of nowhere," he murmured, breaking the silence.
Vica glanced up at him, her sharp eyes softened by the rain. "Life is full of unexpected storms," she replied, her voice steady despite the cold seeping into her.
"Some storms aren't meant to be faced alone," he countered, brushing a wet strand of hair away from her cheek.
For a fleeting moment, Vica allowed herself to relax in his arms, to feel the warmth of his touch despite the chill. But her defenses quickly snapped back into place. She pulled away slightly, though not enough to completely break the connection.
"We'll get through this," Xavier said, his tone unusually gentle. He wasn't just talking about the rain anymore.
As if on cue, the door suddenly clicked open.
"I'm sorry, sir," Edna's voice rang out, flustered and breathless. She averted her gaze when she noticed the scene before her.
"Why are you apologizing?" Xavier snapped, his frustration evident as he scooped Vica into his arms.
Vica stiffened at the sudden gesture. "What are you doing? I can walk just fine."
"You're soaked and freezing. I'm not taking chances," he replied firmly, his jaw set.
Edna half-ran after them, clutching a clipboard. "Sir, the meeting with the Canadian investors is set. They've been waiting in the conference room for—"
"Cancel it," Xavier interrupted brusquely. "Reschedule for 7 a.m. tomorrow."
"But, sir—"
"Bring my coat to the parking lot," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Edna hesitated, clearly unnerved by his tone, before muttering, "Yes, sir."
Vica remained silent as Xavier carried her to his car, her wet clothes soaking through his already drenched shirt. The drive back to his estate was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers.
Once they arrived, Xavier stepped out of the car, still holding Vica, now wrapped snugly in his coat. He ignored the startled looks from the staff as he strode into the house.
"Prepare ginger tea," he barked at the maids, cutting off their greetings. "Add the herbal blend."
He carried Vica upstairs, his grip firm yet careful. She didn't resist, but her gaze remained fixed on him, her expression unreadable. Once inside her room, he set her down gently on the bed.
"You need a hot bath," Xavier said, moving toward the bathroom without waiting for a response. The sound of running water soon followed.
When he returned, he found Vica still sitting on the bed, wrapped in his coat. "You're going to get sick if you don't change out of those wet clothes," he said, his voice softer now.
"Get out," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with a challenging stare.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I'll be waiting in the room."
Once the door closed behind him, Vica exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging as the tension drained from her body. She stood and stripped out of the soaked clothes, stepping gingerly into the warm bath. The heat enveloped her like a comforting embrace, soothing her chilled skin.
When she finally emerged, dressed warmly in fresh clothes, she found Xavier still there, now in dry clothes himself.
"Are you still burning up?" he asked, moving toward her and placing a hand on her forehead.
Vica swatted his hand away. "I'll end up sick if you keep touching me with your cold hands."
Xavier stepped back, looking sheepish. He picked up a tray from the bedside table and offered it to her. "Ginger tea, made with herbs. It'll help you warm up."
Vica took the mug reluctantly, her fingers brushing his as she did. She sipped slowly, savoring the spicy, soothing warmth.
"Tastes good," she said, her lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile.
Xavier's expression softened, a rare look of genuine relief crossing his face. He didn't tell her that he'd prepared the tea himself.
"You can go now," Vica said, her tone firm but not harsh.
Xavier lingered for a moment before nodding. "If you need anything, call me."
He left the room reluctantly, the door clicking shut behind him. Alone, Vica tugged at the locket around her neck, her fingers tracing its intricate design. She closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer, the weight of her mission heavy on her shoulders.
But for now, in the quiet of her room, she allowed herself to rest.