Chapter 64 - Milk and coffee

"Iona, how many years has it been? What brings you back to Europe?"

Melinda dropped a sugar cube in her coffee. "Business." She offered only a vague excuse. Always careful. Never too eager to show her cards. "You may now call me Melinda. Melinda T. Portner." A second cube of sugar fell into her cup before she began to stirr with the silver teaspoon. The strong smell of coffee rose into her nose as she lifted the cup.

"A new identity?" Doubtfully he raised his straight eyebrow. Small wrinkles formed on his flawless forehead. He looked so young. But on reflection, she didn't know his true age. Maybe he was in his forties. Yet she could not say for certain. He was older than she was. She knew that for sure. After all, he was already visiting her family when she was still a young girl of eight. Even there he was already a handsome gentleman who socialized with her father.

"You know me." She smiled nonchalantly.

"Indeed. I was surprised to get your call. I didn't think to meet you once again in Europe, not after your tricky escape. But..." His gaze lingered on her fingers. " I am happy to welcome you back. Cheers for a successful business venture." He raised his cup calmly as if he wanted to toast with her.

She laughed. " To good times." And sipped at her cup. The coffee was as black as she felt. But he would help her. Even then, he had helped her. Though he never knew it. He had always supported her. Gave her strength. He'd add a generous dose of milk until she turned brown inside. Until she just tasted lighter. Not too strong.

Being around him made her feel so light, she could forget all her sins. All her pain and sorrow. That's why she needed him. Because only he could make her feel that way. This weightlessness.

For years, she had tried to live without him. Trying to forget. To live another life. But he was like the air she needed to breathe. She felt like she was going to suffocate. She needed him. Soon. For too long, she had been sinking into her darkness. Only he could free her from it.

And to get him, she needed Thomas.

To get him, she would play another dangerous game with Thomas Shinley. She needed his help. If she wanted it or not. This man was the only person who could help her survive and get what she wanted.

"How can I help you, Melinda." In a tempting pace he accented her name, until this plain name was transformed into a charming poem.

Tension was in the air. With her tongue she brushed over her lower lip, lost in her thoughts, choosing her next words carefully."Thomas... You must promise me your help. I will pay."

"How much are you willing to pay."

"You may decide the price. As long as I'm in Europe, you must promise me your help."

Thoughtfully he took a sip. "Good." He said, putting the porcelain soundless down on the table.

A spark lit up in the blackness of his iris. Too short to see the true meaning behind it. But long enough to know - he was interested. "Let me in, Melinda. How can I help you?"

"I need you to get me a job. Near this person." She placed a photo on the table. The picture of a young woman she passed on to him.