Dangerous coincidence

/ASHER HARRINGTON’S POV|

“It’s bad enough that the prime minister and I finally decided to be seen together in public to finalize a whole lot of things after years of coded communication so that our plans don’t get exposed to the wrong people by using the arranged marriage between the Harringtons’ and the Grayson’s that I have been trying to find a way around because I was not comfortable with getting trapped in an arranged marriage when there are other ways that I can get stuff one, why did I have to walk into the hotel to find Dylan Grayson’s body on the ground when I already made preparations to tighten the security of the hotel in advance?” I ask myself for the umpteenth time.

“Can you just stop blaming yourself already?” Malcolm, 3 in one groans from the driver’s seat.

“How won't I blame myself?” I question him.

“The prime minister lost his life over my carelessness, and it is more than annoying that he got killed right under my nose, and that too when everything that my father, Dylan Grayson, and I have planned over the years is starting to work out,” I let out in frustration.

“What exactly is your basis for ranting because you have been ranting since the prime minister’s body was sent to the morgue,” Malcom questions.

“is it not obvious that I hate so badly to be back to square one, and that with the murder case of not just my father’s best friend, but also one of the greatest assets to this nation and my would-be father-in-law since the two people that signed the marriage alliance contract are now dead and there is just no way in the world that the marriage contract can be amended,” I express in sadness as my minds starts to boot in 5G trying to point a picture of how hard my life is going to be as the crown prince now that the prime minister us dead and the opposition in court will only get louder and louder.

“I can understand that you are in a really bad shape, but you need to stop blaming yourself because putting all the blame on yourself when you will still be the one to deal with the aftermath of the man’s death is unfair on your path,”

“If you are trying to make me feel better, then I need to put it to you that you are doing a very bad job at it,” I inform him so that he doesn’t feel obligated to make me feel better.

“If I am doing such a bad job at making you feel better about the situation, is there a place that you want to go because I have been driving in circles since we left the hospital because you have not said anything about your next line of action and the four things within the scope of my job description is being your bodyguard, your assistant and your driver,” he goes ahead to state the obvious.

“The last time I checked, being a mind reader was not one of those four things that I listed, so can you please tell me where we should go from?” he finally stops beating around the bush and goes straight to the point.

“Anywhere apart from the palace will do because I really can’t return to that jungle wearing a poker face and pretending like everything is fine,” I answer him.

“Who said you have to wear a poker face and pretend that everything is fine when you are in mourning, especially when you have such a valid reason to mourn the prime minister as his would-be son-in-law,” Malcom points out.

“The prime minister’s death is going to cause a massive change in court so even though I know that he is dead, I need to withhold the news of his death from a lot of people to buy more time so that I can use that opportunity to fish out the people that I had one thing or the other to do with his death,” I explain to him.

“shouldn’t you be thinking of your next move instead of focusing all your energy on investigating the prime minister’s death so that you won’t be caught off guard?” Malcolm asks, expressing that we don’t share the same views on this.

“I can’t do that right now,”

“I am mourning at the moment and I can’t deal with anything important, so can you just allow me to grieve in peace?” I plead with Malcom, folding both my hands in front of my head so that he can leave me alone.

“I know exactly what you need,” he says, tilting his body and face from the driver’s seat where he is busy driving and showing me the devilish smirk on his face before turning to the front to face his driving.

“What exactly do I need?” I ask him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You need to drink and get laid,”

“This is such a critical time in the nation and not the time for the crown prince of the nation to be getting laid,”

“Nobody is going to know because I don’t kiss and tell, and you are going to be in disguise so nobody will recognize you, more so I plan to send you to RIL,” he tries to make the offer sound juicy.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,”

“I think it is a superb idea because you are just being the playboy and official bad boy of the Harrington family, an identity that you have built for yourself over the years to confuse your opposition into thinking that you don’t care about your position as the crown prince of this nation so it is nothing out of character,” he goes ahead to make his idea sound like the best thing in the world.

“I don’t want to be calculative and manipulative at a time like this….I just want to be alone to grieve.

“Yea…. I understand” Malcom finally stops arguing and starts driving, which makes me sigh in relief because he has finally stopped pestering me, and I relax into the car hoping he will trust his discretion and take me to a nice place.

“Here you go boss” Malcom suddenly breaks the silence after driving for a while, tossing me a leather pouch as he parks the car.

“What are you doing?” I ask him puzzled

“I am helping by bringing you to a very nice environment that will boost your mood instead of allowing you to wallow in self-pity and guilt, so you are welcome” Malcom answers proudly.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Not exactly” he answers almost immediately.

“This is more like me helping you so that we can both have peace of mind.” He answers as he steps down from the driver's seat to open my door for me.

“I don’t think that is what it is all about,” I say, eyeing him in suspicion.

“You were supposed to be with the prime minister…..may his soul find peace” he suddenly points out.

“As I was saying, the original plan was that you were supposed to be occupied today, and I made plans with my girlfriend because unlike you who doesn’t have a stable relationship, I have a stable relationship and a date to get to do off you go…” he says practically dragging me out of the car.

“So this is what all this is all about?” I ask him looking unimpressed

“Yeaa” he answers, closing my door and getting back to his seat at the driver's seat.

“Ciao ciao,” he says in a mocking tone, waving me before he zooms off.

“Since I have been ditched by the o ku person who has been tolerating all my bad behaviorist for years, why not just go in to have a drink in one of the secluded sections of the bar like he suggested” I sigh as I start to walk towards the lounge.

On getting to the entrance of the lounge, I pull out my membership card, but on remembering that I am supposed to be incognito, I quickly turn my back to put on the dark shade on the leather pouch that Malcolm tossed me before he sent me out of my car.

After putting on the shade, I find my way to the nearest restroom to disguise myself because nobody is supposed to be able to recognize me there.

After putting on contacts to alter my eye color, I take off my suit because it makes me look so serious, I fly my shirt to look lazy and casual, then I try to scatter my hairstyle a bit before returning the dark ray-ban shade so that I won’t be recognized by anyone here since the lounge is a place that is reserved for the crème de la crème of the society then I start to make my way into the lounge with my membership card.

The thought of going to a VIP room in the lounge crosses my mind, but on a second note I want to be alone without necessarily feeling like the world has abandoned me because that will only make me feel twice as bad, so I change my route to the Wishkey library.

On getting to the receptionist lounge at the whiskey library, I present the membership card for my raised identity to the pretty lady after complimenting her beauty before ordering a drink and making my way to one of the reserved seats separated from the other seats separated by transparent curtains hanging from the ceiling.

“I apologize for the lateness,” the waiter apologizes after making me wait for a while, looking around the room while listening to the drunk exchange between one of the customers and one of the waiters.

“Do you know who I am,” the drunk customer screams as the waiter pours me a drink.

“I am Valeri…..no sorry I meant to say Elena Grayson,” she says, and on mentioning that, my head whips in their direction with immediate effect.

“My father is….” starts.

“my bad….” she corrects herself almost immediately.

“my father was the prime minister of this country,” she says and at the mention of that, the alarm in my head suddenly goes off.

“Wait a minute...” I pause in shock.

“The prime minister's daughter is not supposed to be in town till a month later, especially not at such a critical time,” I dismiss as I continue to sip my drink instead of getting involved

“If my father, the prime minister was still alive, you people wouldn't dare treat me like this,” she says and that makes me get up from my seat asap because the prime minister’s death has not been announced yet, so how is she equipped with such information?

“What sort of a dangerous coincidence is this?” I mutter on getting to where the commotion is coming from and I realize that the interesting lady who struck a deal with me at the lobby of Crest Hotel is the person creating a scene.