Chapter 12.
Reuben
I walk into my father’s office to see him pacing furiously.
Mother is rigid at his desk, and Aster and Baal hover quietly in a corner of the room, while Baachan sips her tea by the couch in front of the fireplace.
All eyes are on me the moment I enter.
Father is the first to reach me, scanning his eyes up and down as he holds me by my shoulders.
I have a good three inches on him, yet his grip is like steel, a quiet show of his control and a silent reminder of his strength.
A white-collared shirt clings to his build, tucked into black slacks, and his slanted dark eyes are a mirror of mine, framed by short, black hair.
“I’m fine, Father,” I assure him.
“No, you’ve lost your bloody mind.” His glare would surely make Baachan’s spirits run for the hills, but I could swear I feel a tremor in his hold, the barest hint of his fear for me.
Yet it’s useless for him to try to hide it, because I can see it in his energy—his panic and worry finally subsiding now that he has me in his hands…
It makes me feel just a little bit guilty.
“You know I can handle myself,” I speak clearly but his eyes only narrow, his grip tightening and making me wince.
“I know you can handle yourself around men three times your size and five times your number,” He agrees. “But the ocean is something completely different, Reuben.”
… Fair point.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Father hisses.
“Reuben’s not one for thinking, Shou,” Baachan answers for him with a dismissive sigh, before turning to me. “Come sit by the fire, crazy child,” the last words are spoken in Japanese and my response slips into her tongue.
“I’m fine, Baachan.”
One pointed stare from her and I’m shooting Baal and Aster a look for help, but their eyes are all but saying this one’s the grave I dug myself.
Petty fucks. They’re just happy to see me being the one on the ropes for a rare moment.
I sit by the fire before she can drag me by my ears, grateful enough that I didn’t bring my team in to see this.
“You could imagine our surprise when we received the call from Aster,” Mama’s voice when she finally speaks is icy, watching me from her spot by Father’s desk.
Her feet are lapped, tall blue heels strapped to her ankles beneath a blue pencil skirt and her white shirt creases at her elbows where her arms are folded.
“But I’m sure you can’t imagine what it was like to be told our son jumped overboard in a completely sane state of mind. ”
“Not sane, amor,” Father interrupts, “I’m telling you he lost his mind.”
“I haven’t lost it, Father,” my nose wrinkles. “I had to retrieve one of my men.”
“We’ll talk about the competence of your team separately,” Mama’s voice remains cold.
I have to grit my teeth to hold back the retort, holding it tensely on my tongue as my mother and I glare at each other without a word.
Even when seated, she’s a tall woman with icy brown eyes, high cheekbones and olive skin.
Her hair is so blonde it looks white, falling in a single plait that travels to her waist, and accented by escaping curls.
I release my irritation with a sigh, “What was the diamond doing there?”
Mama’s eyes narrow as I change the subject but Father places a hand on her shoulder and she relaxes visibly.
“The boy took it without notifying his family,” Father’s voice is grave.
Hence the utter lack of security.
Stupid boy.
He continues, rubbing his forehead and I can see the frustration that flickers in his energy, “He was going to propose to Drayton’s granddaughter that night,” Camille, “and the crew was notified about his plans for proposal but not the diamond.”
The memory of Josei and Camille’s dance on the cruise ship clashes with the memory of her holding his lifeless body close, and I can't help but feel... sorry for a single moment. A happy ending, shattered before my very eyes.
... Idiota. Still, something doesn't add up.
“He had to have told someone.” My eyes narrow.
“Or someone saw him take it,” Father considers.
But that doesn't add up either.
“No.” My mind is whirring as I consider the options. “Whoever attacked us knew exactly what he was planning and when. The timing was too... perfect.”
The moment Josei unveiled the diamond...
“Josei was shot first,” I realize.
Father is watching me and I can tell he's slowly coming to the same understanding.
“It had to be someone he planned it with,” he grasps it. “Someone only he could name, who knew the details—”
“Someone close,” I finish for him. Someone stabbed Josei in the back. And the thought of finding them is making that chaos in my chest go a bit wild with anticipation.
“In the first place, Josei isn't the type to run around stealing jewels and offering them to his beloved,” I’m thinking aloud. Did he come up with the idea on his own? Or did someone plant the idea in his head? How many others did he plan it with? Was it just one close friend or a group?
I can’t help but tilt my head as my thoughts focus on the minds behind the mysterious attackers. Whoever it was that used the na?ve Josei and disposed of him without a second thought.
I wonder how many colours I can get them to show me before I mute them. I'm imagining a fireworks display of fear, agony, and regret. A pretty palette of chaotic golds and blacks, before fading into the colour of bright blood and the scent of death—
“Reuben.” Father’s voice is sharp, pulling me back from that strangely compelling dark place and I have to rein in the strange smile that’s suddenly on my face.
“It’s only conjecture,” he says.
“Sensible conjecture,” I correct.
“The mouth on you,” Father mutters with narrowed eyes and there’s a warning light there with his next words. “Whatever the case. It doesn’t justify your reckless behaviour.”
I can’t like the direction of this conversation. Not if it’s leading to where I think it’s going.
“I handled the intruders well, Father.”
“I’m sure I said that’s not what I was worried about,” his tone is so stern it makes me wince.
“But jumping overboard?” Mama jumps in and the air immediately becomes three times colder.
“If it wasn’t for Christian, I would’ve been the one freezing to death in the sea,” I reply with a sharp look. “Not just me but Camille too. Tobias.”
“It's their responsibility to make sure nothing happens to you,” She retorts pointedly. “I don’t care if they break all their limbs. That’s their duty.”
“I had everything under control.”
Baachan scoffs and the room turns to look at her. “Crazy child, none of us believes you for a moment. I heard you pulled a gun on your second.”
Curse Tobias. I choose my words carefully, “… I might have.”
“And you’d have shot him?” Baachan is watching me with a raised brow, “For the new boy?”
“Knocked him out mildly.” I would’ve definitely shot him and she knows it.
“Why haven’t I been introduced to this new recruit?” Father asks suddenly.
My mouth opens and closes. Why was that again? “I was too busy.”
“He’s Dahlia’s boy,” Baachan speaks up and I can’t help but throw a scathing look in her direction. She continues without a care of course, “The Adler. Survivor of the Nash operation. But a very good child. Slightly confused by the tell of the spirit following him.”
My heart does this strange, panicked stagger in my chest. Wrong moment to remember why I hadn’t introduced him to Father.
“The one who lost his team?” Father’s displeasure is immediate.
I stand, “Father—”
“You’re joking,” Mama looks positively beside herself with laughter. “You let a survivor into your squad.”
“He’s a competent man—”
“Not competent enough to stay out of the water it seems.”
“Competent enough to keep me out of it,” I snap.
She starts, “Reuben, this is ridiculous—”
“I won’t let you tell me how to choose my team.” The room’s already frigid temperature enters subzero levels, and when Mama stands from her chair, I can feel Aster and Baal’s uneasiness from here.
But there’s a surge of fire in my blood that refuses to listen to any more of this, standing strong even as she approaches me. “And I won’t listen to you talk badly about Christian just because you’re afraid of losing your son. How I use my life is my choice—”
Her palm connects with my cheek sharply.
The sound is loud in the room… but we’ve danced this dance before; when I meet her eyes, my glare hasn’t softened and neither has hers.
Each of us, a cut-and-paste mirror of each other.
But this time, my mother’s usually icy glare is glassy, “You’re my son, Reuben.”
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my mother cry.
I’ll be honest, it stuns me.
“You could’ve disappeared into the sea and we wouldn’t have been able to see even a glimpse of you ever again.” The words tumble from her lips in Spanish now that she’s lost control. “Who am I supposed to kill if the ocean takes you away?”
She stands tall, refusing to let her tears fall, yet still, I’m watching her energies tremble… and my gaze softens, my stubbornness finally ebbing away from my shoulders as I hold her hands in mine.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I say gently, “but Christian is…”
The words die in my throat because I don’t know yet what Christian is. I just know that I can’t keep my eyes off him. I hate when he’s hurting. I want him to open up to me. I want to see him smile more often. I want to hear his laugh brighten up the room more.
“He’s…” I switch to English but even though the words trail off again, Mama’s eyes widen slightly, as if piecing together the words I’m unable to say. Her shoulders relax too, the fight finally leaving her body, and she reaches out to cup my cheek—rubbing her thumb across the now tender skin.
In hindsight, she really should enter one of those slapping matches.
If she thinks this is holding back, then someone needs to tell her before she kills me by mistake.