| 005. A Scheduled Advance |

  Malachi Vitto stretched out his neck and groaned with satisfaction as his vertebrae clicked back into alignment. It was almost three thirty as he approached the private cafe that serviced the flats. He was running 15 minutes later than he’d said he would be, but he doubted Neil would mind. The fact that Neil’s cousin had moved in, whilst vaguely interesting, wasn’t exactly pressing. Although it wasn’t a meeting he had been particularly anticipating, now that it was here he was a little curious. Who was Xenia Ishizaki behind the family name? She was younger than them, so he couldn’t expect much, but as someone that was bound to feature prominently in his work life in the future he wondered how capable she might turn out to be.

  He paused in the doorway, registering Neil’s anxious expression and the back of the girl's head. Usually Neil was very relaxed – to date he’d only acted like a prat in front of girls he liked. The chaotic energy he was expressing was unusual, and surely uncalled for.

  Surely.

  But the rational part of his brain started to hear alarm bells.

  He did his best to quash the feeling and stepped into the cafe, clearing his throat for good measure. Glancing around it was yet another quiet day. The wait staff was probably on their phone just out of sight in the kitchen. They were playing something classical with cello and piano. He listened more intently as he crossed towards them. He thought it was Ernest Moeran.

  “You’re here!” Neil said, half way jumping to his feet.

  “I am,” Malachi agreed. He’d only had to come down a few floors, and so hadn’t bothered with a jacket. Now he wish he'd brought one, just so as to have something to do with his hands. Neil's nervousness was making him weary.

  Taking a breath, he finally let himself glance at Xenia. He'd met her parents before at his own family's business events. Her facial features took after her Japanese father - a subtle jawline, mid cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. She had a small delicate nose and soft, round cheeks. Her fair skin could be attributed to either parent, but the rest of her colouring, however, was Celtic after her mother and Neil’s father. The ice blue eyes, freckles and reddish-brown hair were so unusual as to be slightly jarring. Like she was wearing contacts or had freshly used henna to dye her hair and paint the freckles on.

  He hadn't expected to find her so attractive. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

  "You must be Xenia," he said, and decided he might as well be formal. He reached out to shake her hand, ignoring the jolt of heat that spread from the tips of her pianist fingers against his wrist as their palms slid back apart.

  “I am,” she said, smiling because she was so perfectly given the opportunity to echo his blasé response to Neil from moments earlier. She met his gaze unashamedly, and indeed he could tell she was studying his features intently.

  He had to sit down.

  This was an absolute disaster.

  Thankfully Neil was there to distract them. Malachai sank into one of the plush white sofas, crossing his legs at the ankles.

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  "And this is Malachai," Neil finished the introduction unnecessarily. He looked between the two of them expectantly. There was a weird tension, and he was making an obvious effort to break it. "Honestly, I was worried that the two of you were going to start fighting.”

  Malachi’s eyebrows lifted. His knowing who Xenia was in advance was no guarantee they would get on with one another. But he'd never appreciated Neil more than in this moment. An excuse to quip at the inane comment would help him settle down.

  “Was it an all out brawl or a shouting match you had in mind?” he said.

  "Hysterics, certainly," Xenia said, coolly interrupting. He noted her posture was perfect. Her knees were pinned together, her back perfectly straight, shoulders back. "It does so run in the family." Neil laughed, clearly more in on the joke that Malachai. He couldn't imagine either of her parents hysterical. But it hadn't sounded like she meant to be ironic.

  Xenia cursed herself for making that joke, and preyed he didn't probe further. If he did she would have to say it was Neil she was referring to. She wasn't certain Malachai knew about Ashley, and the less people who knew about her family drama the better. She could only blame her nerves for making the comment so unthinkingly in the first place.

  Xenia had been imagining Malachi Vitto for years, and suddenly felt so self-conscious about it. Looking at him, she found she was surprised that Malachai wasn’t what she’d expected. He had typical Italian features, as his surname should have suggested to her. Tanned skin, deep brown eyes, full lips, thick eyebrows and high cheekbones. His hair was that exact definable shade of brown she thought people would describe as ash. He was taller, broader, more casually assured than the abstract rival she had constructed in her mind. His confidence was unstudied — the kind that came from competence rather than rehearsal.

  She was in trouble. She felt it in her bones.

  "We should get another pot of tea," she said suddenly. "Do you like Darjeeling?" Xenia asked Malachai. "I'd prefer Assam if you're not opposed?"

  "Either is fine," he said.

  They both glanced at Neil, noticing he was still hovering.

  "Do you want to get it, since you're up?" she asked. Neil flushed as he registered that she was correct and clapped his hands together to refocus.

  "Yes," Neil said. "I'll leave you two to your game of 20 questions."

  As Neil was busy getting the drinks, Xenia turned more completely around to face Malachai. He felt like she was challenging him to work her out.

  "Were you hoping for 20 questions?" he said, and her lips twitched upwards into the beginning of a smile. The amusement reached her eyes. He was surprised to find he’d been looking for proof that she wasn’t completely wooden.

  “I can't imagine we'd learn much we don't already know about each other," she said. "No matter how direct, efficient or probing the question, I predict deliberately ambiguous responses. I don't see much point in circling one another conversationally, given this isn't a normal meeting."

  "I should have known you would cut to the heart of the matter," he said, amazed to find he was enjoying himself. She laughed so briefly and girlishly that it was almost a giggle. Malachi struggled to keep a straight face. Giggling was not a characteristic he would have imagined the Ishizaki heiress to possess.

  "And I should have thought how weird it would be to actually talk to you after so many years of family rivalry." The tone of her voice was constructed to be light and carefree. This had become a study of sorts, every action and word was being carefully allotted some significance. Which meant that none of it meant anything, because they both knew they were playing that game. She had probably intended for him to see her a certain way. He wondered if her earlier giggle had also been a deception.

  "It does verge on the cliché ," he agreed.

  "Precisely, so I would like to propose that we agree no matter what happens we agree to interact with each other on an entirely personal level, and not use that context when we are older and wiser and trying to make business decisions."

  He stared at her.

  Xenia found herself going pink. She hadn't planned to propose the idea, but having suggested it she knew how desperately she wanted him to agree. If only because it was such an embarrassing notion.

  Then, to top it all off, just as she was feeling vulnerable and foolish, he licked his lips and smirked.