Mae

15

I trust my father. With my life, literally. His opinion on if I should meet Tristan matters. But he says, "No. Absolutely not, Mae."

I take a step in his direction, but he holds up a hand and stops me. "No, Mae. He's too dangerous of a man to be trusted with. Meeting him is risky, and riskier when you want to do it alone."

He rubs his hand over his face, then puts his hands on his desk. His head hanging in between his shoulders.

As much as I hated to agree on that with Tristan, it's true. That was the only condition he put up when he agreed to meet me. He wants us to be alone, though in public, but with none of our people who work for either of the businessmen.

It's dark outside now. I can see the skyline behind him. The New York skyline I used to love.

Stefan and my father have the same office structure. Only dad's is more welcoming and decorated with plants and ceramics, while Stefan's feels like a bloody graveyard.

I exhale, reminding myself that I'm not supposed to yell back at my father. Not because he is my father, but because he deserves the respect and leverage.

"Dad, think of it this way," I try another explanation. "Being allies with Tristan will benefit directly to you."

He raises his eyebrows, asking to continue further with the obvious question 'how'.

"Tristan is, apparently from today's incident, the only person who can talk Wyatt into anything. Anything, dad." I stand the way my dad is, bending forward with my hands on the desk. "And if I become allies with the only thing that controls Wyatt, what do you think will happen?"

"No more Wyatt crap to handle," Dad says, a wicked smile spreading across his face. Something I've never seen before.

"Exactly," I say, happy that we both are on the same page. "So, what do you say?"

He looks at me. "Alright. But you have to promise not to do something stupid, okay?"

I smile. "I promise."

.................. .................

Only a fool would trust me. I broke the promise. Not the one I made to dad, but Tristan.

We have decided to meet in a coffee shop so we can't pull out any guns and put up a fight even if we wanted to, even if we disagreed on something. Had it been an isolated place, I can't imagine who would have dropped dead first.

I flew back to Chicago last week. The day after Tristan offered this negotiation or whatever you wanna call it.

Being back in Chicago feels good. Being back where I spent almost a decade. Wicker Park had become my home. Though none of my family lived here if we exclude that Carter's about to move in with me. Not in the apartment Tristan broke into. I will never let Carter live there, after there being a possibility that Tristan might full such funny tricks again.

Carter is on the duty to arrange the furniture the way he wants. What colors he wants the walls to be, where the couch should face, what plants will adorn the windows, and everything there is to do with the place. He's in charge of making the new apartment home.

If only I can be done with this surreal meeting with Tristan, I can help him.

I lean my back against the chair and glance at Aiden, who's disguised himself as a waiter, Ashley, right behind me, and Ryan, at a perfect corner from where he can see everything in the coffee shop. They weren't supposed to be here, according to Tristan's condition. But hell, if I ever listen to him.

The coffee shop is themed to be artistic, highlighted in browns and off-whites, inspired by Rembrandt, the Dutch painter. I know little to nothing about his work, but what I can see from the duplicates of his paintings of The Night Watch, The Strom on the Sea of Galilee, self-portraits and so many more I can't even recognize, he was quite the artist in his time.

For a change, and for Tristan's sake, I wasn't connected to the three of my people on earpieces. I can't alert them, and neither can they for any danger. But Aiden, being the waiter, is enough for me.

The things I do for Tristan.

Tristan is about to make the biggest mistake of his life by walking into this café. I don't want to get too excited about it, as I have zero guarantee that he will fall into my trap. I shouldn't underestimate him.

Ryan is gesturing towards the entrance. I look in that direction. A man is walking in. His eyes hid behind sunglasses, wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans. Maybe it's him. I'm not sure.

He sees me sitting alone at a table far from the entrance, and he makes his way toward me.

"Lilith." He says, not questioning if I'm her or not. Of course, he would know how I look after stalking me for a decade. I'm still in between if I should be paranoid or not after receiving that information.

"Tristan?" I ask. He nods and settles in the chair in front of me.

Finally, the devil himself.

I smile and sigh. After all these years, the bastard is right in front of me. He's not how I expected him to look. He's more subtle and casual about himself. Not the skin-crawlingly, blood-boiling sick man I encountered on the phone.

Maybe that is his personality. Not his appearance.

He removes his sunglasses, flashing his brown eyes. He's not sinful, no. He looks almost. . . innocent. I don't let that fact be at the top of my concerns. Right now, I want to focus on the plan I drew out for today and make sure he follows the crumbs. So, I finally cage the lion. Or should I say. . . deer?

"Let's talk." He says. His voice is unfamiliar too. He sounds raspy and breathy and deep on the phone. Not firm and gentle.

I shake my head as the invention of the voice modulator strikes my mind.

"Sure." I lean forward. "What do you have to offer to this alliance?"

He leans forward as well. "Why don't we drink something before?"

I frown and move a little backward. Startled by the ease he will order something knowing I first arrived here. He doesn't even suspect anything.

He's strange.

"Okay. . ." I say, and ask the nearest waiter, Aiden, to take our orders. Tristan orders a latte for himself and I order an expresso for myself.

Once Aiden disappears, Tristan covers his face with his hands.

"Are you okay?" I ask, not concerned for him but afraid he's not who I was expecting him to be. He's not intimidating the way he's rumored to be. Nor is he the lunatic people believe him to be.

He shakes his head in denial. "No, I'm not."

I'm beyond confused now. What's happening?

Our order arrives. Aiden brings our respective drinks. He nods at me, telling me the liquid I gave him is mixed in Tristan's drink. The one that will make him unconscious and fall asleep for the next few hours.

Tristan looks at me. I can't read his eyes, but one thing I see in them is for sure. Hesitance. He stares at his latte for a few seconds. Then close his eyes, and gulp down the whole of it, unbothered by its hotness.

I abruptly stand up. "Who are you?"

***