Delicate Deception (On Hold)

Chapter 4: An Ill Demise

"Obrigado, Mr. Da Costa! See you in three weeks." I thanked the chauffeur, a courteous human man nearing his elderly years. He insisted on towing our bags in for us, so I slipped out and placed my hands on the trunk, preventing him from doing so.

"You're too good to us, Ms. Rin," he said, words thick with a Brazilian Portuguese accent. He smiled, a bitter, solemn image. I frowned in return, knowing exactly what his words meant.

Malodza wasn't known to treat its workers well, believing them to be of a lower status. I never understood the vulgar mentality, was especially surprised when I found Father had conformed to the same behavior. It was a process, one I'd taken on my own head, to reverse this insolence.

Ziko in one hand, luggage in the other, I whispered a quick goodbye to him before walking towards the glass doors. Cold air enveloped my figure, and I continued in blindly, still lost in my grim thoughts.

A sharp tug on my right hand induced me to stop.

"Mom," Ziko said, his small finger pointing towards someone.

"Z, it's not nice to-" I stopped speaking as soon as my eyes followed Ziko's line of vision, finding exactly who he was held up on.

He sat draped over the metal chairs, relaxed, legs stretched out in front of him, lean arms bracing on the rests. His gaze stood fixed on the phone in his hands, and I felt no regret as I plainly drank in the image. The dark, fitting attire, complementing his golden skin, peppered with tattoos of all designs. I could make out a light scruff along the hard lines of his jaw, but nothing more, the distance having done its job a little too well.

As if he could feel our heavy scrutiny, he raised his head, searching for what was amiss. Instantly, our eyes met. My knuckles tightened around the hand carry, my mind sending me red alerts to move on...until my attention caught on the paper in his other hand.

Rock, it said in bold, ebony colored letters. I took in the elegant script at the same time as he, in one smooth motion, slid his phone out of sight. Understanding dawned in my face, and he crumpled the paper up, rising gracefully. He tossed the ball into a nearby trashcan before coming closer, expertly weaving through the growing crowds. The male stopped a mere one foot away, smoothly setting his bag down onto the floor.

Up close, I could see the ring that hung from his left ear, glowing as the sun hits its silver lining. I focused on the metal, not wanting to gawk at him, but knowing it was inevitable.

His features were molded from granite, rugged- no, not beautiful- but a dark kind of handsome that I did not believe humans could possess. His gaze followed my own, and I couldn't help but stare back. And then his regards strayed to the little boy standing beside me.

His brows raised the slightest bit. Mine furrowed in response.

"Is there a problem?" I snapped, no longer entranced with his unnaturally clean-cut self.

His eyes were a striking cinnamon color, glowing with a sort of soft warmth and amusement as he looked back at me. One side of his lip tilted upward, drawing my gaze to the arch of his beard, neatly trimmed around his mouth.

"No, not at all," he replied, a slight foreign accent woven in between the syllables. My brain worked in overdrive for the next few moments, deciphering where exactly he was from. But nothing came to mind, and I settled without that piece of knowledge, knowing it's something he'd reveal in time.

He crouched down and lifted a hand out to Ziko, "Hey, little bud. I'm Orias." My eyes followed the tattoos on his fingers, engulfing the chubby hands of my child. Ziko looked up at me, his smile growing by the second.

"I'm Zee-koh-moh. Call me Zee-koh," he stretched out each syllable of his name, "I like planes!" He held out his latest drawing, showing off the distorted proportions of an aircraft he'd created.

I watched as the male- Orias- studied the picture with a renewed fascination.

"It's amazing," he said genially. My heart beat stumbled as he ruffled Ziko's hair before rising again, towering over me.

"Rock," he dipped down his chin the slightest bit. My lips pressed into a thin, not too welcoming, smile, an acknowledgement of his greeting.

--

In the last two hours, we'd hustled our way through airport clearance, grabbing a small meal before heading onto the plane. Ziko had found it in himself to spill every detail of what he remembered of his short life.

"I'm three and one half," he'd stated with fervor multiple times, words still garbled with that childish slur. The kid had a large vocabulary, something he used whenever given the chance. Father had not been surprised to hear him start speaking at an age earlier than normal.

"Intelligence runs in the family," was his only reply. Apparently arrogance did too.

"I want to sit by Mr. O," Ziko whispered suddenly, his voice clearly projecting to the male sitting next to me.

My mouth snapped open and close, not knowing how exactly to answer him.

"C'mon, Mom, let the kids have a little fun," Orias drawled from beside me.

My head snapped to the right, and I took in the loose smile on his face, childish glint in his eyes. A dimple became known under his stubble; my eyes caught on it, the one feature seemingly taking away all the seriousness on his face.

"Mr. O!" Ziko exclaimed, "You're too old to be my brother."

I mentally face palmed, ready to bribe him with chocolate as long as it kept him from revealing any more information of personal value.

"Then what are you suggesting I be?" I glared at this stranger who- within the last hour- had already bonded with my son enough to conspire against me. His eyes never left mine, smile only grew, teeth almost glowing against the rich melanin of his skin.

I knew where the conversation was going as soon as he opened his mouth to resond. Knew that he was baiting my innocent boy.

"You can be my dad," Ziko whispered this time, really whispered, as if me, sitting in between the two, would not be able to hear the words.

I choked on my spit at the same time as Orias chuckled, a deep and sensual sound.

"Zikomo."

My voice was of steel, not compromising when it came to his manners. I sent a mom look his way, only to find him trying his best to hide a smile, attention fixed on Orias.

Neither male said much in the next hour. I read over the short backstory Jack had sent me, headphones in to drown out the buzzing of engines surrounding us.

I was a businesswoman on a trip for a wealthy client- fair enough.

I owned a...lingerie business? I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Jack had come up with this.

I was a single mom in her twenties- truth.

The father of my child departed after hearing the news- truth or lie, something I would never come to know.

I was American, recently having moved to Brazil for my Father- truth. Except that I remembered this clearly. Glimpses of a battle, death, blood. Of receiving a coded message- its contents giving me a choice: Malodza's aid in return for my compliance. I'd agreed without another thought, the gravity of the situation having settled deep within my bones.

Autumn's grief stricken face. Her mate kneeling on the crimson grass, immobilized. Men clad in leathers meant to withhold in a fight to death. These were images I would never forget. The memories- they stopped there, starting back at my arrival.

Brazil- where I'd given the essence of who I was- a sacrifice. One that I found really was ripping me apart every passing day, the start of a miserable, impending end.

HOW DO Y'ALL LIKE ORIAS??? THE FACE CLAIM I BASED HIM OFF OF, OO LA LAAAA Y'ALLLLLLL! So so excited to create the cast chapter for this book :)