Kapitel 22: Chapter 22

Avara POV

I should just do it.

I should just go into his office and demand the truth. He's my father! But he's also the man I thought I knew everything about, from his quirks to his favorite foods. Anything and everything. But I was wrong. One thing I know I am right about is that, despite what he might have done. He is a good man and somehow Haru Black took advantage of that, but I just don't understand how. If he's holding leverage over my father, that means he's done unscrupulous things before. It can't just be that he threatened his family—there are plenty of other powerful politicians to exploit and yet my father was chosen to be extorted.

However, the way Simon explained it... it sounded voluntary.

My phone buzzes. Landen. A smile takes a hold of my face. We've been texting since we last saw each other at the restaurant until now. I admit, he is entertaining, but I don't trust him one bit. I'd never trust a man that strangled and threatened me. And his sudden change towards me is madly suspicious. I'm even a bit insulted that he thinks I'm that gullible to fall for whatever trap lies in wait for me. I looked into that man's eyes. He has no intention of brokering a peace or even pretending to be civil. He's planning something. But as they say: keep your friends close and your friends even closer.

Landen: C'mon just come.

Landen: Don't make me beg… or maybe that's just what you want.

Landen: Do you want me to go on my knees for you?

Me: A wasted effort. The mayor's daughter can't be seen clubbing with her boyfriend's brother.

Landen: It's a birthday party!

Me: At a club!

Me: Besides I have a charity gala that night.

Landen: How many of those do you attend?

Landen: You'll be alone because I know that it's also the same night that my father and Vance are flying to Tokyo to meet some corporate tycoon.

Me: Your point?

Landen: You'll need a date ;)

Me: I'd rather go alone. Thank you.

A knock on my door. I stand from my bed. "Come in."

A guard opens the door. I don't recognise him.

"This was sent in for you, Miss Du Pont."

He holds an elegantly crafted wooden case in his grasp. Furnished, rectangular and narrow. I come over to him and I thank him with a smile as he transfers it into my arms. He leaves and closes the door behind him. The chest keyhole is fortified with a sophisticated padlock with a thumb scanner. I move to sit on the foot of my bed, eyeing the biometrically sealed case. I hold the padlock and I place my thumb on the screen and it scans—the lock opens. I take off the padlock and I lift the lid of the case to see the ruby-red velvet interior with a single black rose laid inside and a note.

Go to Frank. He'll take you to me.

Botan. I put the box aside and I scurry to my wardrobe. I rummage through the assortment of neat piles, turning it into an explosion of fabrics. I dart back, vigor surging through my veins like being overloaded with adrenaline. What am I doing? I have nothing to say to the Wolf. A criminal. A killer. A bad man. I'm just a pawn to him. His world has been bleeding into mine long enough, but it's as I said. Keep my friends close and my enemies even closer.

After I freshen up, pampering my face with some light, natural makeup, only foundation, mascara with a winged eyeliner and lip gloss. Not so natural. I put on a simple matching set, a long sleeve pastel green crop-top with a high-waisted skirt. And when I'm done. I follow the instructions. I thought Frank was out chauffeuring my father, but apparently not. And when I leave the house, he's waiting right outside for me. I trade nods with the guards and I walk briskly to the car. I round it and I open the passenger door, sliding inside.

"Ready?"

I nod eagerly. "Yep. You know where to go, right?"

"The hostess of the restaurant called to confirm. Your father's in a council meeting, so I will fetch him after I return you home. I was given the impression your meeting won't take long?"

A delirious laugh flees my mouth. "No, no, it won't."

***

Frank waits outside. I come into a swanky restaurant with large columns clad with a plywood structure finished in Venetian plaster. Within the primary tenancy space, a central, edge lit barrel vault provided by its dominant feature, richly articulated in taupe mosaics. It's currently midday, lunchtime, rush hour, and there's not a single customer in the opulent breadth. Only an entire staff servicing one man at the booth who is currently reading a newspaper.

I approach cautiously, and he keeps on reading casually.

I walk to stand in front of him. He's wearing a loose-fitting, white short-sleeve cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the top to showcase his trademark silver chain on his muscled chest. His hair is combed to the back with a lonesome inky strand curling down his forehead. And he gestures to the open seat opposite him.

"I'm not staying."

He meets my gaze, his expression dangerously stoic. Just one glance and I fall into those depthless pits, a look powerful enough to make me give into the compulsive urge to surrender to his silent command. I slip into the booth, watching him carefully.

"What is your interest in Simon Mansfield?" His voice is like fire and ash.

"Still stalking me, I see."

"I only discovered your ruse because I have men watching Mr Mansfield. Everyone who he meets or who wants to meet with him gets reported to me. So I ask for the last time. What is your interest in Mr Mansfield?"

"You," I confess. "You're the one that opened my eyes and now you're surprised that I've gone looking? You kept dangling the carrot, and I got sick of waiting. You said that I just took things… no questions asked. And it's true. I didn't think I'd have to ask questions. He's my father. Of course, I was never going to question him and only do as I was told. Your vague proclamations made me think otherwise."

He observes me with a mute tenacity, like he's deducing the truth for himself.

"And that led you to Mansfield."

I nod hesitantly.

"Stay away from him."

I ease back. "Excuse me?"

"Stay away from him," he says with firm finality. "I can tolerate a lot of things, but not insubordination."

My head jolts back. "Insubordination? I'm not some lacquey of yours that does your bidding." I scramble out of the booth in an angered haste. "I don't take orders from you, Botan."

He launches up to his feet, rushing at me and tearing a gasp from my chest.

"Do you think this is a fucking game? Because I'm not playing."

I retreat backwards, but he keeps advancing. He seizes my jaw to stop me, angling my face so his dark eyes pour into mine and his touch is like cold fire, sending a surge through flesh and bone. His expression mutates into something so formidable I don't even recognise him. And his grip only tautens—hurting me.

"Stay away from him."

Tears burn behind my eyes. Both of my hands are clutching onto his one wrist.

"I told you because I wanted you to be aware of the dangers around you." His voice leathered with menace. "You never have to worry about that, not with me near you. And you don't need to know any more than that."

A tear leaks from my eye, rolling down my cheek.

"We're done here."

He jerks me aside and slides back into the booth, and casually collects the discarded newspaper article like I'm not even here. I hurry out of the restaurant without even looking back, just like the staff members pretending they didn't see anything. Shortly, I return to the car, sniveling and sniffing.

"Avara, what's wrong?"

I force a smile, beaming despite the uncontrollable tears swimming in my eyes.

"I'm great, Frank. Just great."

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