Chapter 3

A THREAT

The café should provide a small haven from the whirlwind of the past several days, I hoped. Though the scent of new coffee and the gentle buzz of conversation were meant to be calming, they appeared to accentuate my thoughts instead. Trying to ignore the chill still clinging to my bones from the early morning drizzle, I put my hands around the steaming mug.

My phone broke the silence on the table by buzzing on top of it, and I looked at the screen. Still another reminder of the engagement announcement from my dad. I sighed, unable to help, but it felt like every communication stacked on additional pressure, not like I would have forgotten.

Letting my thoughts wander, I watched the rain-slicked streets out the window. The café was cozy, but outside the dark sky and consistent rain pattern reflected the uncertainty developing in my head. Was this exactly what I yearned for? Was I really about to wed a man I hardly knew, someone who lived a life of shadows and power?

I observed someone walking into the café, and my ideas were cut off. She was difficult to overlook. Walking in with all the grace and presence of someone aware she was the center of attention, Miranda looked, her heels clicked fiercely on the hardwood floor, each step resonating louder than it ought to have. Her fitted black dress, which hung to her physique in a way that made me immediately self-conscious, was not softened by the low lighting.

Her sight of me and her straight over trajectory astounded me. She was obviously up to something since her lips curled into a smile; she missed her eyes.

"Well, well, if it isn't the future, Mrs. Vincenzo," Miranda exclaimed, her voice dripping with a mix of sweetness and hate. "Enjoying your coffee, darling?" She asked.

I forced a tight smile, attempting to hide the abrupt knot of pain in my gut. "Miranda, what a surprise! What are your desires?"

She skidded across from me into the chair without waiting for an invitation. Her scent, combining jasmine with something harsh, was overpowering. Lean in close and "just a friendly chat," she suggested. Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she were divulging a secret meant especially for me. "You see, with Lysander, you are entering something different than what you would be comfortable with. You do not know the man he is.

The café closed in all around us. The sinister tone in Miranda's speech became the only thing I could concentrate on as the far-off murmur of other chats dulled me. Once soothing, my coffee tasted like burned bitterness.

"What are you speaking of?" Trying to keep my voice calm, I asked.

Miranda delayed her response right away. Rather, she gently, deliberately pulled out her phone. I watched, my heart accelerating as she went over her pictures. She stopped at last and pointed the screen toward me. Looking as good as ever, Lysander was seated with his arm around Miranda. They were looking so delighted and laughing.

As I studied the picture, my heart dropped. Though Miranda's presence was unnerving, the picture of Lysander and Miranda together felt like a kick to the gut. Is this possible? Was Miranda correct? < Was Lysander the guy I had imagined, or was I simply another pawn in his merciless game?

"That was long ago," I murmured, my voice hardly a whisper. Right now, he is with me.

Miranda leaned her head to the side and expanded her smile. "For right now, maybe." Men like Lysander, though; they hardly ever change. You are only the most recent diversion. Keep from being overly at ease.

Her comments seemed to be a chilly hand squeezing my heart. Like rain seeping between the crevices of an ancient umbrella, doubt seeped in. Miranda's comments truly touched close since, deep down, I realized I didn't know Lysander. Though I had seen the charm and the power, I had not seen the real man beneath the mask. Was I only a fresh chapter in his scriptbook?

She got up with purposeful, fluid motions. "Think about it, Kylie," she continued, her voice bearing a finality that made my skin crawl. People seem to vanish in Lysander's universe. I would hate to see you subjected to anything.

Miranda grabbed from her bag a sleek black card before I could really understand her remarks. Her eyes fixed on mine; she set it on the table before me. "Just call me if you ever need a reminder of what's at stake or if you want more information on how deep this goes."

Miranda turned and left, her heels tapping hard on the floor. Stammered, I sat there, glancing at the card she left behind. My hands shook as I lifted it up and flipped over. Just a phone number and the words; no name was used here.

"Kylie, just a heads-up: those who meddle are not welcomed on Lysander's planet. Think again if you believe you to be safe. Those who offend him sometimes find themselves in terrible, horrible, permanent circumstances. I would hate to see you turned into another example. Follow my advice: keep keen and treat this as a major warning. Ignoring it might have really serious repercussions.

Mind racing, I hurriedly placed the card into my backpack. I had to leave that place. Originally a refuge, the café felt stifling. The rain outside had become a torrential downpour, and as I hurried outdoors, the frigid, weighty droplets appeared to reflect the turbulence in my head.

Miranda's threat and the sinister card pressed down on me as I strolled home. Kind of realm had I entered? Ahead were hazards? The rain hammered nonstop against the ground, reflecting the anarchy in my head. I couldn't get rid of the sense that something was approaching—something I wasn't ready for.

I was soaked by the time I got to my flat; my coat hung to me like second skin. My mind racing with anxiety and uncertainty, I kicked off my shoes and sloshed in the door. I inhaled deeply, then settled down at my desk, fixed on the engagement ring on my finger. Though it glittered in the low light, the diamond felt more like a weight than a token of love.

Looking out at the streets slicked by rain, Miranda's warning and the card kept playing in my head. The storm raging outside seemed to be a mirror image of the tempest developing inside me. What had I become involved in, and how much risk was actually present?