SPITEFUL CHARADES - BOOK V

- Chapter 7 -

The Alistairs shared a gift of reading minds. They also shared other traits: resilience, self-control, and integrity. They may have become assassins in an effort to seek out information surrounding their parents' presumed deaths, but they always chose to accept assignments that ensured the status quo worked in favor of humanity.

Gunay believed he was born for the job. He loved it. Life may have led his path to that of an assassin, but he knew deep down he would have chosen the path on his own. And not just because it paid well. His fees reflected his track record. A track record of always completing his assignments. Always, until his last job. The job that was completed by someone else. And that someone was Iuliana Selenio.

No one had hurt him the way she did. Learning of his parents' passing crushed him. He would not dare denying it. But learning Iuliana left him with no explanation and without a warning infuriated him. It left him... heartbroken. He hated her for it. Yet more than anything he hated himself for letting his guard down. And, tried as he might, he never got over that. Or over her.

Regardless of what he showed to the outside world...

"Small coffee. Black. No cream. No sugar," the waitress repeated Gunay's order as she brought it to his table in the elegant porcelain saucer. He was not accustomed to spending time on outdoor dining, or spending money on it for that matter, but he told himself that sacrificing his taste palate was worth it. At least for now. He had lived in the area for a good couple of years. He chose it for privacy and for the convenience his penthouse suite offered. The unmatched benefit of the helicopter pad atop the building, accessible only from his penthouse, offered him something other buildings could not - anonymity.

And yet, this may have been the first time he dined in the high end restaurant on the corner of his street. He did not choose the restaurant for its atmosphere. He chose it for purely practical reasons. After all, it provided the perfect and unobscured view of the apartment building across from his. Iuliana's apartment building.

"Thank You." Gunay's retort was rehearsed and automatic just as his gratitude and responses during his usual missions. Because he treated it as such.

"May I offer You anything else, Sir? An appetizer, or something more palatable?" The waitress inquired, obviously taken with his charisma.

"I appreciate the offer, however I would lie if I told You my heart has not been taken already," he smiled, suave and debonair.

"Then whoever she is, luck must have been on her side the day You met," the waitress inclined her head, leaving him to his coffee.

"More like her luck ran out the day she left," Gunay whispered under his breath. He did not realize someone heard his whisper of a thought. He also did not realize it was the one person he would never suspect of catching him off guard - again.

"Luck depends on what we believe," Iuliana said in a gentle tone of voice that caused Gunay's blood to rush to his heart, appearing right behind him. He did not move. Had he done so, had he leapt to his feet, he would have hated himself afterwards. So, he sat in his seat, allowing himself the only gesture of a cocked eyebrow.

"Fools believe in luck," he replied without turning around. "Life is what people make of it."

"Always the pessimist, aren't You?" Iuliana rounded his table, sitting down across from him without an invitation she knew would not have been offered.

"You wouldn't know," he retorted dryly.

"You cannot be certain of that," she leaned forward over the rim of the table, resting her chin on her hand.

"What business do You have following me around like a lapdog?" He narrowed his eyebrows. He was not about to own up to the purpose behind his presence at the restaurant.

"And I thought You were civilized," she reached for the saucer and took a sip of his coffee that stood untouched. "Would a lapdog be insulted if someone followed it? Or flattered?"

Gunay neither scoffed or reacted. He watched her, in silence. She still moved as effortlessly as he recalled. She still exuded class and natural finesse. She still possessed the gleam in her eyes. The kind of gleam that drew him to her.

"What are You doing here, Iuliana?" He broke the silence after a longer pause.

"São Paulo is a beautiful city. You can hardly blame me for enjoying it."

"Hardly."

"I am here on business." She set the saucer down, adjusting the designer scarf draped along her shoulder.

"Do what You like in Your spare time. What are You doing here, in this restaurant?"

"Like You said, I am doing what I like in... my spare time," she spun the words back in his face. And it left her feeling triumphant. Too bad she had no notion of his mind reading talent.

'Of all the days we could meet again, why did You have to come now...?'

"Since when do You drink coffee?" Her thoughts intrigued him. Technically, not the thoughts but their tone. It was not a tone of annoyance. It was one carrying undertones of loneliness.

"My choice of beverage did not used to trouble You."

"From what I recall, my presence did not used to trouble You, either." Oh, did the words comfort his ego! The years of anger. Months of resentment. Weeks of bruised ego. And days of regret for ever meeting her. It all flooded his mind. And his gut.

"Gunay Argent, You always were too direct for Your own good."

"Some things never change," he straightened in his chair, then rose to his feet.

"Neither do people," she noted, gesturing for the waitress to approach their table.

"I paid for the coffee already. Consider it... a payback for time wasted on the past."

"The past is never wasted, Argent." She offered him a faint smile, turning her gaze toward the waitress. "Could You please take the coffee and bring it to the table that has been reserved in my name?"

"Yes, Senhora Chiaromonte," the waitress inclined her head. She picked up the saucer, sent Gunay a leveled look, and walked away with the saucer in hand.

"You are married?" The sudden realization twisted Gunay's gut.

"We all have private lives. You of all people should know that." Rising from her chair, Iuliana crossed over to him, standing close enough to whisper, far enough to keep her composure. "Thank You for flying me out of Galapagos."

"I didn't have much choice."

"Yes, You did."

"I wasn't going to let Our past dictate whether You lived or not."

"Wise words, Gunay. Wise words." She smiled, but it wasn't the smile that intrigued him, it was something in the way her eyes changed. "I knew You were suave, but I didn't know You had a wise side."

"You didn't stick around long enough to find out." He swore on the inside. Double damn, he swore. He kept his feelings at bay. Hidden so far deep inside he even convinced himself that he no longer cared for her. All it took was coming across her again for those feelings to spill out over the surface of his heart. And the fact he just revealed how much her absence hurt him made him realize he would hate himself for it afterwards.

"Maybe I did not have a choice?" Was all she whispered. She turned and walked away. Leaving him stunned and shocked to the ends of his wit.

"What?" He wondered out loud. Stupefied. Shocked. And determined more than ever to find out all he could about the woman that walked away from him yet again...