Chapter 24

The silence in the car is heavy as my mind runs through probably thousands of reasons why we would be going to the airport after dinner. From the idea that the Whites who we will be dining with tonight are heading out of state and we're sending them off to Alexander picking up a colleague who is flying in and to be honest, that idea is very a very un-Alexander like thing but it could be a possibility.

"I can see your mind working, Janette," He murmurs, reaching over the seats to take my tightly clenched hands apart. "We are going to the airport. I had Mrs Denise pack a bag for four nights for the two of us."

Snatching my hand out of his, I turn my body to the side in the seat in a way that allows me to face him, "What about Danny?"

"He'll be staying with Mr Ford and Mrs Denise," He answers rather casually, his hand reaching for mine again. "I have some business to attend to but when work is done I intend to spend some time with you."

"Why? In fact, why do I have to go with you?" I ask, slightly hysterical at the thought of going on a plane. "I mean it's not that I don't want to go anywhere with you but I don't want to fly."

"As my future wife," He begins, looking at me as a matter of fact as he explains. "You are kind of expected to be on my arm at dinners also how else will you get to Asia if you don't fly?"

ASIA! WHY ASIA?

"Alexander...I..."

"Sir, we have arrived," Mr Ford cuts me off unintentionally as he pulls up at the lobby of a hotel called Hyatt At Olive 8.

Another expensive hotel. Why am I not surprised?

A valet opens the car door for me, his hand extended to help me out of the vehicle, smiling at his offer, I make no move to take his hand as I slide out of my seat. Giving him an appreciative smile which I feel most wealthy people don't do, the man returns my smile with one of his own.

Before I know it, I feel Alexander's hand slip around my waist, his fingers pressing into the fats of my sides as he guides me into the hotel. His eyes are cold and indifferent as people stop to stare at us as we walk by them, much to my discomfort.

"Alexander, everyone is staring at us," I whisper as he leads me into the hotel's restaurant called Urbane.

"No, they're staring at you," he replies softly somehow still keeping his face blank and emotionless. "You are beautiful."

Rolling my eyes at his cliche reply, I turn my attention to the waiter who asks us if we have a reservation to which Alexander answers in his most clipped tone that we are meeting the Whites and immediately the young waiter jumps to lead us into the private dining area.

Entering the room, there are four people seated on a roundtable that is covered by a linen white tablecloth with a single red rose in a vase in the middle of the table. Immediately as the door opens the people stand to greet Alexander.

Not knowing what to do Alexander exchanges low greetings with a man who has greying blond hair and a goatee while a young woman who seems to be just a little bit older than me waits by his side smiling as the older man exchanges pleasantries and by her side also waiting by the old man's side is an older version of her who I assume is his wife.

"Alastora?" A surprised masculine voice calls unsurely to me, wrecking my train of thought for calling the name that I have heard more times in the last three days than in ten years. "Beanie?"

Again with that name, it seems to be haunting me these days, I grumble internally before pausing to realise the nickname. I haven't heard that dumb nickname since...

"Beanie?" A pair of forest green eyes come into contact with my brown ones as I turn my head to the sound of the voice and my heart nearly stops.

His dirty blonde hair is no longer long and unruly but more well-kept and tidy, his skin has no more scoot marks and his facial scars are less prominent but they're still there. He more or less looks the same as the time when I left.

"Little Beanie?"

Oh God.

"Vincent?" I breathe hollowly, staring at him not believing that he's here. Alive.

What on earth is going on?

"Vincent, do you know her?" The older-looking version of the young woman asks him casually, looking curiously between us.

"Oh, I do," He replies, his eyes not leaving me. "She's a friend I happened to lose contact with while we were children."

Looking to Alexander to see his reaction to this half-truth, I swallow deeply as I find his molten grey eyes trying to burn holes into Vincent's forehead. I think he's mad at me again. Sticking my hand out to the older version of the young woman who I can now safely assume is Mrs White.

I greet, "Hi, I'm Janette Summers. I'm Alexander's fiance. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs White."

Taking my hand in hers, I almost squealed at the feel of how soft her hands are, they're like little pillows with silk covers. Returning my greeting, I quickly let go of her hand before I say something inappropriate.

"Now why are all of us just standing around here?" the old man who I can now name Mr White rhetorically asks as he guides us to the dining table. "Please Alexander, sit by my daughter."

For some reason or other, I ended up sitting sandwiched between Vincent and Mrs White right opposite Alexander and it is clear to everyone except Mr White and his daughter that Alexander is less than amused with the seating arrangement.

With Mr White's daughter chattering away animatedly with a very disinterested-looking Alexander, our appetizers are being replaced with main courses of medium-rare steaks, vegetables and mashed potatoes for the men and plates of wild mushroom risotto for the women.

Vincent, Mrs White and I awkwardly watch the scene unfold in front of us as Mr White tries and fails to speak over his chatterbox of a daughter and with every passing second of her chattering, I have the want to just take the steak knife from Vincent to stab her in the eye. She is that annoying.

"Someone should put a gag in my sister's mouth," Vincent murmurs to me as he cuts into his meat, keeping his voice low enough for me to hear. "I'm sorry. She's very...flirtatious."

I noticed from the second we sat down how she was clinging onto Alexander's suit jacket-covered arm, the way her glittering claws dug themselves into his arm made my blood boil as he did nothing to shake her off.

Eating only half of my food, I quickly find that I cannot stomach any more of the scene in front of me. Being my friend for most of our early lives, Vincent seems to notice my held-back irritation so, he helps me out.

"Mother, I'm going for some air," He announces to Mrs White, surprising me that he's part of their family. "Ms Summers, would you like to accompany me?"

Leaping at the chance, I gratefully take his arm as he leads us out of the stifling private dining room. My nails dig into his suit jacket-covered arm as I try to hold myself back while his sister leans over to whisper something into Alexander's ear as he watches us leave.

Once outside, Vincent produces a pack of Marlboros, taking a cigarette for himself, he offers the pack to me, asking, "You smoke right?"

A smile graces my lips as he asks this and I reply softly, "Nope."

"Really? I thought Alastora Ootori's favourite way of getting her information was to take out her cigarettes on her victims. Slow torture was always your thing," He chuckles lighting the stick and taking a puff before he adds. "And you don't smoke?"

"I don't want to reminisce about the old days," I wince at the sound of my old name, crossing my arms. "The little girl with pigtails guns and knives is gone. I'm not the girl you knew when you were a boy. Also, I'd appreciate it if you never speak of that name again."

Blowing smoke into the air above us, Vincent nods in understanding, commenting, "Not that I didn't see that coming. You've changed quite a bit since you were ten. I'm surprised you held yourself back so well while my sister was drooling over your fiance. If you were your ten-year-old self-"

"No offence to you or your opinions," I cut him off shortly, holding my hand up in front of his face. "I wanted to stab her eye out after listening to her speak for the last hour."

His responding smile is cut short as his green eyes narrow in onto something over my head, he curses, "Six o'clock. Man in a trench coat. Coming up with a gun in your right pocket."

Shoot.