On my today's to-do list, I had to accompany Sean to Dad's book club. It was a regular gathering held in a local coffee shop where people with literary taste gathered at night and discussed different books. I had been there with Dad once or twice but I didn't enjoy the company particularly so stopped going.

Thomas parked the car behind the cafe and Sean and I made our way inside. He was avoiding looking towards me like a plague since last night. Most of the last night's shenanigans were hazy in my mind due to the alcohol but one particular image was crystal clear; Sean and I, clinging to each other and sucking the soul out of each other.

I might have considered that a figment of my imagination but the red mark on my jaw told otherwise. It looked like someone had sucked this place a little too hard. Just the thought of that sent shivers down my spine and made me dizzy.

After the initial nausea had settled, I blocked that memory to the farthest corners of my mind and vowed to never think of it again. I don't know if Sean remembered anything but even if he did, his emotionless face didn't show any sign of it.

As we entered the cafe, a group of middle aged men and women were huddled in a corner, analyzing a murder mystery novel.

"That man, the one in red." I pointed at the man who was sitting at the far right. "His name is Lance and he is Dad's colleague at school. He has been to our house a couple of times."

"Let's start with him." Sean and I sat down on a sofa and waited for the man to distance from the group. While waiting for that, I ordered a cup of coffee for myself.

Sean did anything in his power to avoid looking at me. His body language was awkward and nervous, which indicated he remembered the kiss too.

The thing that confused me was that I have seen Sean casually drinking much more than he did last night. I am a lightweight, always have been. But how come he lost control too? And kissed me, of all the people he could have kissed?

I was busy in those thoughts when my phone rang and Jason's name appeared on the mobile screen. The phone was lying on the table so Sean also saw it and his jaw tightened in response.

"I didn't know you were in touch with Jason." He asked, finally breaking the vow of not looking at me.

"We are close. He is a nice guy." I replied nervously.

"How close?" He lifted his eyebrow.

Ever since I got my phone back, I had been in contact with Jason on daily basis. I liked talking to him as he was the only person who was nice to me when I was locked in the Miller mansion. It was just light-hearted conversation, nothing serious or worth mentioning.

I tucked a free lock of hair behind my ears. "We are friends. We often chat." Judging by his expression, it won't remain like that for much longer. "Don't ruin it, please."

"What? Why would I ruin your friendship with someone who works for me? What role do I play in that?" He said sarcastically.

"Oh come on, he is just your chef, not one of your mob." I replied. "Don't say anything to him."

"Sure." He said unconvincingly.

"Mr. Miller!" I groaned. "Please. Promise me."

"Why should I?" He asked.

"I'm serious. Promise me you won't ruin this thing with Jason." I glared.

He clenched his jaw, figuring out his response to my request. The inner turmoil was clear on his face. On one hand, it was his need to control everything and on the other hand, he knew he couldn't mess up this dynamic between us. We had only recently figured how to co-exist and going against me would ruin that altogether.

"Fine." He replied and then turned his head to Lance who was placing his order to the barista. "He is alone."

We both hopped over to the coffee counter and encircled him.

"Penelope?" His eyes widened in recognition.

"Yes, Mr. Lance. We have some questions for you." I whispered.

"Who are we?" He asked, suspiciously looking at Sean.

"Let's go sit somewhere." I led him to the sofa where we were sitting. "This is my friend." I lied about Sean as we both had agreed on not disclosing his identity

"What do you want to ask?" Lance asked, a frown appearing on his forehead.

"Is there anything about my Dad that he was hiding from me?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I don't know what you want from me. Your Dad and I were just acquaintances."

"Just think about it. Anything he might have mentioned that was suspicious. Or he might have told you something about his personal life." I asked.

"I... I should better go. I don't feel comfortable---"

Before he could stand up, Sean put his hand on his shoulder and gripped it. "Listen buddy, answer her honestly. Or---"

"Sean," I motioned at him to stop. "It's fine. You can go."

While Lance walked away from the table, I caught the eyes of the barista who was staring towards us with an inexplicable emotion on her face. As soon as she saw me looking, she averted her eyes and almost lost balance of the coffee cup in her hands.

While Sean looked disappointed at not finding anything, I was more curious about the barista. She looked like she was in her late twenties, maybe a few years older than me. Her skin was dusky and her hair was curly. From my peripheral vision, I noticed her staring towards our table quite a few times. I also noticed that her hands were a little fidgety, not a quality that was routine for a barista.

"Are you having some sort of sexual awakening?" Sean, who must have been noticing me staring at that girl, finally asked.

"Um... No. This girl... I feel like she wants to tell us something." I pointed.

"Why don't we go ask her?" He said and before I could stop him, he had made his way to the counter.

I rushed towards him to stop him from scaring her. Before he could speak, I held him by his shirt and pulled him back. "Let me." I said.

"Sure." He held out his hand for me to lead.

"Hi, do I know you?" I asked the waitress.

"No." She said a little too quick.

"Are you sure? Because it seems like you want to say something." I stressed.

"Not really." She passed me an awkward smile and walked away.

Dejected on not getting an answer, I finished my coffee and then Sean and I left the cafe. We had almost reached the car when someone called my name.

I turned around to find that same barista walking towards me. "Just sit inside the car. We'll talk there." She said and without asking anything, all three of us slid in the back seat of the car.

"How do you know my name?" I asked.

"Elijah talked about you a lot." She replied.

"You knew my Dad?" I got alerted all of sudden.

"I'm Ivana. Your Dad and I... We were..." She was playing with her fingers, trying to find an appropriate answer. "We were dating."

"You're lying." I exclaimed as the shocking piece of information fell on me like a pile of bricks. It took me few minutes to gather the courage to form a proper sentence. She was young, too young for Dad.

"Denial is often a sentiment when you find out one of your parent is in a romantic relationship with someone that's not your other parent." Sean chimed in.

Ignoring him, I added, "Why would he date a girl who is about my age?"

"Yeah, what kind of a man wants a young, supple woman in her twenties?" Sean whispered under his breath.

"Ugh, shut up, will you?" I groaned and then turned my attention to the woman claiming to be in relationship with my late father.

"I don't know how to make you trust me. That's not important anyway. But I have answers to some of your questions." The woman, whose name was Ivana, stated.

"What answers?" I asked.

"You want to know why Machiavelli's men killed your Dad. Right?" She asked.

Both Sean and I exchanged a look because we haven't told her anything and yet, she confirmed our conjectures. We had an idea who killed Dad but we were still not sure about that. So she probably knew much more than us.

"Elijah hadn't told me much but he was collecting evidences against them. And they got to know about it." She said.

"What kind of evidence?" Sean asked.

"Some evidences of their crimes. And somehow, Paolo Machiavelli got to know about it. They even came to threaten him. All the data was in his laptop and that's why they stole it after murdering him." She informed.

Sean asked some more questions but I was too stunned to listen or speak. Realising that, he held my hand gently, making me aware that he was with me.

"I think it's time we have some one on one conversation. Did Elijah figure how can we reach them? Paolo Machiavelli conduct most of the business in Italy and Russia." Sean asked.

"His wife Bianca is inaugurating an art gallery. But a very limited and specific people are invited so it will be very difficult to get an entry pass." She said.

"We'll find a way. When is the inauguration?" Sean inquired.

"This Sunday." She replied.

Sean stared at me blankly. "Get your fancy clothes ready. We are breaking into an art gallery."

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