Chapitre 25: The Reunion and ¿Mistake?
Vincent was flipping through a recent newspaper in his office "Jewelry Heist: Police Search for Suspects." The details of the robbery made his mind stop. The described modus operandi was all too familiar: precision, meticulous planning, and a cold, calculated approach. It was the same style his father, had used in his past as a criminal.
He frowned, remembering how months ago Michael had kicked him out of the house, suspecting him of illegal activities. Their relationship had been shattered, but now, reading about this robbery filled him with frustration. He couldn't help but think that his father had returned to the game.
He picked up his phone and dialed Michael's number. After a few rings, his father's familiar voice answered with a dry, distant tone.
"What do you want, Vincent? I thought we had left all this behind."
Vincent exhaled sharply, controlling his irritation. "We need to talk. I read about the jewelry heist... and I know it was you."
An uncomfortable silence ensued on the other end of the line, but Michael soon responded with his usual sarcasm. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but go on, tell me what you think you know."
"I know your style. The way it was done... it's too similar to what you used to do. You can't fool me."
Michael let out a frustrated grunt. "What I do now is none of your business, Vincent. I made it clear when you left home. You have no right to interfere in my life."
Vincent kept his tone controlled but firm. "What you do matters to me because you're my father. I'll see you tomorrow. At six at Bahama Mamas. I'll be with Natasha."
Michael's laughter echoed through the phone, cynical and mocking. "Your secretary? Is this some kind of game for you?"
"It's part of my life, and I'm not going to discuss my business with you. I just want to know what's going on with you."
There was a long pause before Michael reluctantly agreed. "Fine, we'll meet at six. But don't come to me with your stories, Vincent. I don't want to hear anything about your fucked up life."
Vincent hung up before the conversation could escalate further. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face in an attempt to calm down. Natasha, who had been listening from her nearby desk, watched him with curiosity.
"Are we really going to see your father?" she asked, her tone professional, although she couldn't hide some surprise.
Vincent nodded, his gaze still fixed on the phone. "Yes. It's time to face him"
The next day, at Bahama Mamas...
Bahama Mamas was as crowded as ever. The music thumped throughout the club, and the atmosphere was lively, almost too carefree for what was about to happen. Vincent entered the venue with Natasha, both impeccably dressed, although the tension on their faces contrasted with the festive mood.
They crossed the dance floor to a table in a corner, where Michael was waiting with a glass of whiskey in hand, his sunglasses perched on his nose despite the low light. Upon seeing Vincent approach, a sarcastic smile appeared on his face.
"You're on time. I didn't expect that," Michael said, his tone full of mockery.
Vincent didn't bother to respond to the comment and took a seat across from him. Natasha sat beside him, maintaining her composure. "This is Natasha, my secretary."
Natasha offered a small smile, trying to be polite. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Michael."
Michael glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to Vincent, still wearing a cynical smile. "So now you bring your secretary to family meetings? You never cease to amaze me."
Vincent completely ignored him. "I didn't come to talk about that. I came to understand what's going on with you. The jewelry heist... I know it was you. Why have you gone back to this?"
Michael took a long sip of his whiskey before answering, his tone colder than before. "What I do is none of your business. You stopped being part of my life a long time ago. I told you that when you left."
"You kicked me out because you thought I was involved in illegal activities, Michael," Vincent said, raising his voice slightly. "And now you're the one making headlines for a damn robbery. I know I'm not clean, but at least I try to keep my business in line. And you? Weren't you the one who wanted to leave all that behind?"
Michael looked at him sharply. "You have no idea what I'm going through. Sometimes, life pulls you back in, even when you don't want it to. I'm not proud of what I do, but I don't need your damn lessons."
Vincent stared at him in silence for a few seconds before responding. "I'm not here to give you lessons, dad. I just want to hear from you why you did it. If this is the life you choose, fine, but sooner or later, you're going to have to deal with the consequences."
Michael fixed him with a tense gaze. "Don't worry about me. I know how to get out of this."
Natasha observed everything in silence, uncomfortable with the tension in the conversation. She knew it wasn't her place to intervene, but the coldness between father and son was palpable.
Finally, Vincent stood up, heading toward the exit while taking Natasha by the arm. "See you, soon. Take care."
Michael didn't respond, only watching as Vincent walked away, knowing their relationship had been weird for a long time. However, as he watched his son leave the club, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of pride. Though they walked very different paths, Vincent had proven to be stronger than he expected.
Vincent and Natasha left Bahama Mamas in silence, the echo of the conversation with Michael still resonating in Vincent's mind. It had been months since his father had thrown him out of the house, suspecting about him. Now, after discovering that Michael was once again involved in the game, Vincent couldn't shake the mix of disappointment and frustration.
During the drive to his beach apartment, Natasha remained quiet, sensing the tension in the air.
Upon arriving at the apartment, Vincent led them to his private office, a spacious room with ocean views. The city lights blended with the sound of the waves, creating a tranquil, almost surreal atmosphere. Vincent headed to a small wine cellar next to his desk, pulling out a bottle of Italian wine, his favorite. A bottle he had reserved for important moments, although at that moment, he wasn't sure if what he felt was celebration or a simple need to escape reality.
"Shall I pour you a glass?" he asked, turning to Natasha, who had settled into the leather sofa near the window, her posture relaxed but with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
Natasha nodded softly. "I could definitely use something after everything that's happened tonight."
Vincent poured two glasses and approached her, handing one to Natasha. He sat down next to her, both silent for a moment, allowing the gentle sound of the waves to fill the void as they drank. At first, they simply enjoyed the tranquility, but as the wine flowed, the conversation began to flow as well.
"It's strange being here after everything that's happened," Vincent said, observing the wine in his glass. "I can't help but think about how complicated everything has become."
Natasha looked at him, her eyes shining under the soft light of the room. "Things are always complicated, Vincent. But that doesn't mean we can't find a moment to relax and enjoy."
Vincent smiled, feeling the warmth of the wine wash over him. "You're right. We need a break. Tonight isn't just about me; it's also an opportunity for us."
With each glass they shared, the atmosphere grew lighter and more carefree. Laughter and anecdotes flowed between them, and the environment became more intimate. Vincent leaned in a bit closer to Natasha, noticing how her face lit up with every word.
After several glasses, the atmosphere was charged with an electric energy. Natasha laughed at one of Vincent's jokes, her laughter resonating like music in his ears. Without thinking, he moved closer, and in a moment of courage, their lips met.
The kiss began softly, like a delicate brush, but soon became more passionate, reflecting all the desire they had suppressed for so long. The forgotten wine, the broken formalities. The professional was fading away, giving way to something much more intimate.
The glasses were left on the table as the night progressed, and both surrendered to the desire that had been latent. Their bodies intertwined under the dim light of the office, and the sound of the waves accompanied every moment they shared, oblivious to the rest of the world.
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the room with the warm glow of morning. Vincent slowly opened his eyes, feeling the soft weight of tranquility in the air. He turned in bed, and there was Natasha, asleep beside him, her breathing calm and her body barely covered by the white sheet.
For a moment, Vincent allowed himself to simply watch her, noticing how natural it felt to have her there. With a smile on his face, he shook his head and looked at the sunrise.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone