Chapter 4

Damien's POV 

I am seated across a former high school classmate, Glenn, in a booth nearest to one of the expansive floor to ceiling windows in the grill bar a few blocks away from the hotel, where I can watch Miami hustle and bustle.  Maybe it's not the finest place to close a deal, but I slam the enveloped documents down on the wooden tabletop regardless and slide them towards Glenn. 

          The new property owner - or rather, his heir - divests the papers of their covering for his own perusal. He looks as pleased as I always am at the culmination of every deal. More deals mean more bucks afterall. 

          " Now the paperwork is complete," I offer a hand. " Congratulations, to you and Mr Sanders." 

          Amusement creases his features as he clasps my outstretched hand firmly. The billionaire banking magnate, Mr Sanders, had just acquired a beachfront holiday home, and it's no secret who actually owns the million dollar structure. 

          "Thank you, Mr. Realtor," he muses.

          "Anytime." 

         A waitress arrives with our orders; cabernet accompanied with wine glasses and plates of barbeque pork chops with green peas,  and slices of lemon by the side. I smile inwardly at the addition, and eyeball Glenn as he watches the waitress sway her Scarlett Johansson hips to the counter. I see he hasn't changed, I observe. Glenn Sanders still cannot resist the womenfolk.

          " You must have plans," I pick up my fork. " With a house that big." I tease.

          He mirrors my actions, peering at me innocently as he cuts out a piece of meat and guides it to his mouth. " Plans?" 

          " Or you don't want to end up like Wade?" Like me, Glenn is also one of Wade's groomsmen. I spear some pork chops and bite them off my fork, chewing the succulent, tasty  pieces of pork chops that reminds me of Mom's cooking.

          He takes a swig from his wineglass. " There's no one. Yet." He grins. " You have someone?" 

          I think of Lisa, and the impatience with which she snatched Willow from me. Like I was Rumpelstiltskin, and she needed to keep the promised royal baby away from me. I didn't get to have a talk with her like I intended. That day, when our kiss was cut short by Keith's insistent banging on my door. He marched in agitated, hair wild, and demanded Lisa, despite the terror in her eyes, to follow him home. Keith was eerily silent about it in the days that followed. Lisa grew more frigid than ice cubes, and distanced herself from me. Before that night, our relationship had consisted of just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. I wanted to know if I ruined it. If that night was just a casual dalliance to her. But for Keith's sake, and Lisa's too, I kept away.  

          But now Keith is no more, and I definitely don't intend to keep my distance. Her presence in Miami, and her being just a door away from my suite is a golden opportunity dropped into my laps. 

          " Ah. I didn't know it's that serious." 

          My attention snaps back to him. " I wish." 

          " Oh come on." His eyes are gleaming with mischief. "You can tell me anything, you know. Anything." I am tempted to try out some of my kickboxing moves on him. 

          By the time Glenn leaves the booth, I am still polishing off pork chops. I whip out my phone, and contemplate texting Lisa when two figures appear before me, one of them bearing Dad's silver hair and hard green eyes. I nearly spit my food out in shock. 

          " To whom do we owe this honor, Dad?" 

          Even at sixty five, Demetrius Reed is built like a fit veteran boxer, with an impressive height, wide shoulders, and the absence of a paunch. He grimaces at the sight of Glenn's soiled plates. " I'm not here for the pleasure of seeing your face." 

          The waitress scurries over, the same one from moments ago, and clears what used to be Glenn's side of the table. Dad settles in opposite me, alongside a man I recognize as Keith's colleague, Curtis. Both stare grimly at me like they caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. 

          I bite the last of the meat, and gulp down some cabernet. Dabbing at my mouth with a napkin, I return the gaze.

          " How did you find me? Last time I spoke with Mum, she mentioned a trip to Washington." 

          " I happened to know which hotel you were heading to." Dad adjusts his glasses. Dressed in a painstakingly tailored wool and silk suit that likely equals a first-class ticket to London, with an Egyptian cotton white shirt and Armani tie, he looks like he should be on a red carpet instead. 

          " So, what's new?" Anything capable of compelling Dad to pay me a visit personally promises to be intense. 

          " We'll cut to the chase. A few of Keith's possessions have disappeared from his abode." 

           I pause, even more astonished than I was because of Dad's sudden presence. I look at Curtis, who delivered the news in Dad's stead. " What?" 

           " His Cadillac, clothes, a painting." Dad continues. " I discovered this when I decided to carry out a fumigation on the house. And surprisingly, Lisa's belongings remain intact. Expensive jewelry, bags, perfume. Even the furniture remains." He heaves an exasperated sigh. " This is no work of an ordinary burglar." 

          I sit still, as the details gradually sink in. A targeted robbery at a dead man? 

          I feel the weight of Dad's scrutiny on me. Maybe it's just a figment of my imagination, because I don't want to believe it, but there's a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "You suggest I have a hand in this?" Fury tightens my chest. I might be the least favorite one, but that's not a qualification for theft. 

          " I don't believe that." He replies. " But you're not immune to questioning either. And I'd rather do it myself." 

         I am unable to stop the relief that flowed through me. " I wouldn't know what happened. Perhaps someone he knows?" I surmise. 

         " What about his widow?" Curtis inquires. " We should question her too."

         " Lisa's no suspect," I blurt my disagreement. My response earns me odd glances from the suited men. " I mean, she can't take a Cadillac with her on a flight to Miami. And what in the world would she be doing with his clothes?" 

          " She could've sold the car…" 

          " I have the car keys with me, Curtis." For once I'm grateful for Dad's intervention, although I understand it was born out of his soft spot for Lisa. " The car was hotwired." 

           " I met her today at the hotel. You shouldn't intrude on her grief." 

          Curtis leans back in his seat. And I'm once again under Dad's scrutiny. He says nothing, though his eyes holds a message for me, a warning. No entanglements with my brother's widow. I go on regardless. "We shouldn't bore her with this discussion either. The poor woman just lost her husband." 

          Dad silently stares at me, though he doesn't object. With nothing more to say to me, Dad rises from his seat. " I'll have the police open an investigation. Expect more news, Damien." 

           I almost wait for a loving pat on my back. But the pang in my heart has already dulled with resignation to the truth. I can't ever get back in his good graces. 

          Curtis, before he exits the booth, halts in his steps, and tips his head towards me, tone lowered conspiratorially. " I knew Keith, and I know he must have pissed off scores of people. I just want him to rest in peace. Stop trying to protect Mrs. Reed, and bring her out for questioning." 

           "Hey you..." 

          And he is gone, leaving me to ponder on the reason for those words.