Chapter 3
MALCOLM
I send a quick text to Jalon when I get up the first morning in Chicago. He gave me the option of staying in a Van Doren property or a hotel. It seemed like an unnecessary expense to stay in a hotel. Especially when staying in the VD property put me close to Kairo’s office.
Jalon VD
How did my brother receive you?
Grinning, I respond:
Me
He’s an absolute delight!
Jalon’s response is a whole bunch of periods. I think that’s his version of lol or a laughing emoji. Jalon is far too bougie for any of that, though.
Me
He doesn’t appreciate my presence. I’m looking forward to dropping in on him this morning. I’m pretty sure I’m going to blow his mind.
Jalon VD
Be careful, Malcolm.
Hmm. I wonder what that means. I send him a thumbs up and stuff my phone into my pocket. Be careful. Does that mean he worries that Kairo will turn a weapon on me? If that’s the case, I’ve already been through hell. Facing a weapon isn’t enough to deter me, never mind intimidate me.
I’m far beyond that now. I’m one big callous as far as fear is concerned. I’m not afraid of Kairo Van Doren. There’s not a damn thing that man can do to bully me.
Be careful.
Still. The comment sits strangely in my chest. What does that mean? I could just ask. I’m not sure why I don’t. Crossing the large den, I stand in the window that overlooks this side of the city. From here, I have a clear view of Kairo’s building.
It doesn’t proudly announce Van Doren on the side of it. I suppose that makes sense. If you’re hiding a million dollars’ worth of weapons, you don’t want them directly tied in with the Van Doren name. I wonder if Van Doren Technologies even owns the building.
I stare at the window that I believe is Kairo’s office. Without binoculars, I can’t see into it. I’m not sure I could anyway since the top floor’s glass is covered in a mirror coating.
Yesterday, when I found his office empty, I specifically looked out the window behind his desk to see what he sees. What does he watch? I was surprised to see that he’s not looking over the beautiful parks or newer sections of the city where the streets are clean and relatively safe.
He’s looking over the poorer streets. There’s a shelter to the right and beyond that, a food pantry.
At first, I really wondered why he was facing this side of Chicago.
I think maybe this man is far softer than he allows people to think of him.
He’s not turning his nose up at those who need the most protection. He’s watching over them.
Kairo is protective. Fiercely. Even if he pretends not to give a shit about anyone. I confirmed my suspicion of this when he thought someone in his family had talked poorly of him. The hurt that shone in his eyes, though short-lived, was loud.
I had a plan for how to approach my stay in Chicago.
My focus wasn’t going to be on Kairo at all, but his operations.
Making friends is somewhat easy. I’m a likable person.
Despite my rough appearance, I tend to be approachable.
Gaining the trust and admiration of his employees had been my intention.
This morning, I was going to head into his office early to meet the first on the scene. Bring them bagels and coffee. Get to know them. Help them sort the weapons I brought while also learning as much about Kairo’s operation as I can.
Instead, as I lay in bed this morning, I wasn’t thinking about Kairo’s crew and how they were handling Chicago.
I was thinking about Kairo himself. Something niggled inside me, telling me that his prickly exterior is armor and not personality.
I understand that. I know all about armor and protecting yourself from exposing weakness.
Weakness gets you killed. Or, in this case, hurt.
I don’t necessarily want to crack Kairo’s armor. I firmly believe that you’re allowed to protect yourself in any way you choose. Even if that’s being such an asshole that you don’t allow anyone to get close. All the signs that he’s been hurt somewhere are there, shining like a beacon over his head.
But I want Kairo to see a different kind of armor. My armor. You can protect yourself from the horrors of the world, from the possibility of a broken heart, and not alienate the people who care about you at the same time.
He makes it hard to love him, but in the short few months I’ve known the Van Dorens, I also know that I’ve never met a family who loves harder than them. When one of theirs was taken, they called in the fucking troops.
Not law enforcement, who would have taken far too fucking long. Not actual troops, who were bound by very strict rules. But a specialized unit of uniquely trained people that had clearly done that type of rescue before.
All to retrieve a single man.
Maybe Kairo needs to know that the response for Brek would be the same for him if he were in trouble. He isn’t actually keeping his family away like he thinks he is.
A glance at my watch says it’s nine. That’s late enough, I think. If Kairo isn’t in his office yet, I’ll just have to bribe Carlotta to let me in again.
There’s a cute little café on my way to his office. I order a handful of different breakfast dishes and then, on a whim, stop at the booth selling flowers.
Hmm. Kairo is going to be trial and error until I find what it is that breaks down his walls enough for him to see for himself that he’s not alone in constantly wearing armor. Armor doesn’t always have to be thorns. It can also allow some people in.
With my arms laden with goods, I head to Kairo’s office. Unlike the Estate, fobs aren’t in place to keep me out. I take the elevator to his floor unchallenged until I step into the reception area. That’s where the walls begin.
“Good morning,” I call through the small plexiglass window in the wall separating the waiting area from everything beyond. Carlotta looks up.
At first, she blinks at me as if not recognizing me. Then she raises a brow as she gets to her feet and comes toward me. Her eyes take in my load, the flowers, and I see the way she breathes in the breakfast foods wafting delicious scents into the air.
“What are you doing here again, Malcolm?” she asks suspiciously.
“My meeting with Kairo isn’t over,” I tell her, shrugging. “And I’m hungry.”
She looks pointedly at the flowers. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Do you not like ambiance when you eat breakfast?”
Her smile is amused. She wavers and then sighs. “You’re wasting your time,” she says quietly as she hits the button to unlock the door. When I step into the bowels of the twelfth floor, her arms are crossed over her chest. Her expression is almost… sad.
“Wasting my time with what, darlin’?”
She shakes her head. “He’s in his office. Good luck.”
I flash her a big smile. Was that Carlotta’s version of Jalon’s ‘be careful’?
Kairo is exactly where she said he was. I pause for just a second outside his office door to examine him.
He’s concentrating on something on his computer screen, frown lines marring his forehead.
He’s an unrefined version of Jalon. His white button-down shows a peek at his chest where the top three buttons are undone.
The sleeves are rolled up his forearms. A brown jacket hangs off the back of his chair.
His brown eyes are lighter than his brothers’. His hair is a little lighter as well, visibly brown where most of his brothers’ hair is pushing black. His facial hair is more fully filled in, but there’s a careless appearance to it, which I don’t quite understand because he’s manicured beautifully.
As soon as his eyes flicker to the door, I beam and step inside. Kairo’s eyes narrow as he watches me approach his desk without inviting me in. I set the flowers on his desk. They’re wrapped in paper, so I can’t exactly stand them up. No vase. I didn’t think that through.
Without a word between either of us, I unload the contents of the bag of various foods, opening each before setting it on his desk.
Kairo watches, scrutinizing what I’m doing.
Getting to my feet, I walk around the desk and lay a napkin on his lap, something he purses his lips over.
Then I set a paper plate and plastic utensils in front of him before taking my seat.
It’s clear that he has no intention of eating, so I take some liberties and load food onto his plate as I dish mine. Then I sit back.
“This café has remarkable reviews. The line was out the door, so I know it’s good. Have you eaten there before? It’s just down the road.”
Kairo stares at me, eyes still narrowed.
“Eat,” I instruct, pointing my fork at his plate. “It’s best eaten warm.”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t pick up his fork. His eyes watch me as I talk about the food and comment on everything. He presses his lips together.
“Come on, Kairo. Be a good boy and eat your breakfast,” I coo.
Kairo’s nostrils flare. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, and yet he picks up his fork. It’s truly difficult not to grin triumphantly as he eats in silence.
After a few minutes, I ask, “Good, right?”
His beautiful eyes flicker to mine. “I have eaten at the café,” he answers. “We order from them every Friday.”
“Yeah?”
“I make a point of supporting small businesses. Especially in this area of Chicago.”
I grin. “Love that. Where should I get lunch? Dinner? Dessert?”
Kairo doesn’t answer right away. Eventually, he asks, “What are you doing, Malcolm? Why are you here?” He looks down at the food.
I shrug. “I have no real home to return to, so I’m here until I want to leave.”
His frown isn’t the same as it has been. He watches me silently for several beats before he looks back at his breakfast.
The conversation is primarily carried by me as I talk about anything I can think of. Most of it is asking questions about Chicago. Not about the violent climate, but about where I should go. What I should see. I might want to volunteer while I’m here, so which organizations need assistance?
When it’s clear that breakfast is over, I load the leftovers back into the bag and get to my feet. “Thanks for eating with me,” I say, smiling.
His frown remains firmly in place. “What are you doing with the rest?” he asks, eyes dropping to the bag.
“I don’t know. Thoughts?”
He hesitates before saying, “There’s a shelter just down the road.”
I incline my head. “Done. See you later.” Turning, I head for the door.
“You forgot your flowers,” Kairo says before I step out of his office.
Turning back, he’s watching me carefully, suspicion still bright in his eyes. I wouldn’t say I’ve managed to break through his armor quite yet, but the air of hostility is quieter.
Crossing back into the office, I pick up the flowers and hand them to him, watching him carefully. His eyes widen a little. Startled. Surprised. They flicker up to mine as I push them a little more insistently toward him.
Distrustfully, he takes them.
“These are for you, baby girl,” I tell him with a smile.
I don’t miss the way his breath hitches as I straighten and leave Kairo in his office with a bouquet of flowers in his arms.