Chapter One-Hundred Eighty: Dinner Date Mission

Chapter 180

Dinner Date Mission

Ichiro stood in front of his bedroom mirror as he was getting ready for his “date” with Pamela. He wore black pants, black socks, and a red pressed shirt. He draped his black tie over his neck, popped the collar, and began tying his tie in a four-in-hand knot. He popped the collar back into place and straightened his tie. He then spritzed on his cologne and grabbed his black double-breasted suit jacket, sliding his arms into it and buttoning it up.

Ruby stood in the doorframe and watched him.

Ruby: “Will you be back tonight?”

She asked him. Ichiro drew a long breath and walked past her. She checked out his ass as he strolled by.

Ichiro: “I hope so. I don’t want this to progress further, but I will if I have to, so I can bring down Fabien.”

He huffed.

As he descended the stairs, she followed him. He went to the door, grabbed his captoe Oxfords and slid his feet into them. He tied his shoes and heaved a deep sigh.

Ruby: “Is bringing Fabien down that important? Why can’t I help?”

Ichiro gaped at her.

Ichiro: “It’s not your expertise, unless you put iseolite in Blair’s IV tube, and good luck with that with Demetrio and Sylvia hovering over that foolish manchild.”

He fielded scathingly. Ruby bowed her head.

Ruby: “I just wanted to help without you compromising yourself.”

She muttered.

Ichiro: “Then feed Lucifer.”

He grabbed his car keys and headed out the door.

Ruby pressed her palms against the window as she watched Ichiro get into his Porsche 959. He reversed out of the driveway and drove down the road.

~

Ichiro pulled up to a charming, two-story single-family home. The house was a Craftsman-style house, with a prominent gable roof, mixed siding materials, and a deep front porch. The upper level and gable were covered in blue-gray cedar shingle siding, while the lower portion of the house and porch supports were accented with stone veneer.

Two thick white columns set on stone bases supported the covered front porch. The porch had a built-in window box and was lit by interior lights, highlighting the large, multi-pane windows and the front door. The main entrance featured a natural-wood door with glass panels adorned with a simple wreath, adding a welcoming touch.

A wide, well-maintained stone paver walkway led directly from the foreground to the front steps.

The landscaping was mature and lush, with neatly trimmed boxwood shrubs, small flowering plants, and a well-kept lawn on either side of the path. In the driveway, there was a white 1985 Chevrolet Cavalier.

Pamela came out of her house dressed in a black dress with a sophisticated asymmetrical neckline. One side was a one-shoulder style with a clean strap. The other side featured an elegant off-the-shoulder cap or draped fold that covered her upper arm. There is a distinct, architectural fold or drape across the bust line. The skirt was floor-length and flowed down into an A-line or subtle trumpet shape, pooling slightly at her feet.

Her hair was loose, cascading slightly past her shoulders. On her ears, she wore dangling crystal earrings, and in her hand, a small leather handbag.

Ichiro stepped out of the car and opened the passenger’s door for her. Pamela reddened and smiled. She’s not too bad, but if this were Celeste, I’d be creaming in my pants, he thought.

Pamela: “Thank you.”

She said softly.

Ichiro: “Pleasure is mine.”

He said as he walked to the driver’s side, got in, and shut the door. He lifted the emergency brake and shifted into first gear as he drove off.

~

Tristan wore a black, Italian-cut, double-breasted suit, a light-blue, pressed shirt, a blue tie, and black wingtip Oxfords. Jordi wore a black Italian-cut suit, a light purple pressed shirt, a purple tie, and black loafers. The men entered Maison de Luxe, a formal restaurant. The dominant color was a rich, deep red that covered the walls, ceiling, carpet, and chair upholstery, creating a very intense and dramatic atmosphere.

Two massive, ornate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing bright, warm light that highlighted the room's opulence. Additional brass wall sconces contributed to the golden glow. The decor was classic and opulent. There were framed portraits and mirrors with elaborate gold frames. At the back of the restaurant, a baby grand piano was where an older white man in a tuxedo played.

The dining area was set with multiple small, square tables draped in crisp white tablecloths over red underlays, and the chairs were upholstered in red velvet. The place settings were formal, featuring white plates, wine glasses, and red napkins.

The waitstaff, dressed in formal tuxedos, carried trays of food and beverages.

When the host led them to their table, Tristan rushed ahead of Jordi and took his seat. Jordi smiled, cleared his throat, and sat across from him. The host handed them their menus, which they looked at.

A young white man in a tuxedo approached them.

Waiter: “Good evening, gentlemen! Will this be on one bill or separate?”

He asked.

Tristan: “Separate.”

He smiled. Jordi glanced at Tristan.

Waiter: “What can I start you two off to drink?”

Tristan: “A glass of pinot grigio.”

Jordi: “I’ll have beer on tap.”

He nodded. The waiter took their drink order down and left.

Jordi: “I don’t mind paying for us, Tristan.”

Tristan didn’t take his eyes off the menu.

Tristan: “I appreciate the offer, Jordi. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

He flashed him a smile.

Jordi: “Are you upset with me?”

He knit his eyebrows.

Tristan: “No, why would I be? I just don’t want to infringe on you. That doesn’t mean I am angry with you.”

He said quickly.

The waiter approached them with a glass of Pinot Grigio for Tristan and a beer in a pilsner glass for Jordi.

Waiter: “What will you two gentlemen have?”

Tristan: “I’ll have the chicken fettuccine alfredo.”

Jordi: “I’ll have the Apple City striploin done rare with brussels sprouts, mushrooms, and onions.”

Tristan gazed at Jordi and smiled. The waiter left.

Tristan: “That sounded lovely. I love that meal, too.”

He said softly. Tristan and Jordi gazed into each other’s eyes, and Tristan sighed.

Tristan: “Jordi, I apologize if I killed any mood. This doesn’t feel like a date…”

Jordi knit his eyebrows.

Jordi: “No?”

Tristan: “We’re doing this to spy on Ichiro, so it’s a mission.”

He sighed.

Jordi: “I don’t mind paying for you, Tristan.”

He said softly. Tristan melted to his words but hated to admit he still had feelings for Deimos and didn’t want to lead Jordi on.

Ichiro and Pamela arrived. Tristan and Jordi locked their gazes on them. The host led them to their table. Ichiro pulled out a seat for her. She thanked him, and then he sat across from her. Ichiro looked at the menu.

Pamela: “Thanks for taking me out to this lovely place, Ichiro.”

Ichiro smiled.

Ichiro: “No problem. So you wanted to ask me more questions from our encounter before?”

He asked her.

Pamela: “Yes, I did! I want to know all about you.”

She beamed.

Ichiro: “Heh, I’m a man of many mysteries.”

He grinned.

Pamela: “When did you become a doctor?”

Ichiro: “I became one when I was 22. I graduated from high school earlier and was more advanced than the other children, and especially my baby brother, Jiro.”

He said with some bitterness.

Pamela: “What are your parents like?”

She asked. Ichiro gaped at her.

Ichiro: “My father works for the Shin-Yamato embassy here, and my mother owns a dress shop.”

He replied, taking on an acidic tone.

Pamela: “What about your brother?”

Ichiro: “Jiro?”

He scrunched his nose.

Ichiro: “What does Celeste see in him… or Fabien?”

He muttered. Jordi raised his eyebrows. Why is he making this about Celeste and Fabien? He wondered. Tristan cupped his mouth. She didn’t hear that, so she’s not an etheressum, he thought.

He cleared his throat.

Ichiro: “Jiro is living with the world’s biggest loser, Deimos Katsaros, who does nothing with his life.”

He grinned. Tristan raised his eyebrows. He’s not wrong about that, he thought.

Ichiro: “Enough about me. What about you? What do you find out about people? I’m very interested in your line of work.”

He leaned over, placing his hand on hers, and smiled. Pamela felt butterflies form in her stomach.

Pamela: “M-Me?”

Ichiro put his hand on hers.

Ichiro: “Yes, please tell me what you do for your clients.”

He said gently. Pamela reddened and felt her arousal spike when his wiry hand was on top of her smaller, dainty hand. Her nipples hardened against her dress.

Pamela: “S-So, if a husband is cheating on his wife or vice versa, I can pursue them, take pictures, and deliver the proof. I can also locate marriage, death, and birth certificates. I can look into court records and conduct background checks.”

She stammered as she tried to maintain her professionalism.

Ichiro beamed at her.

Ichiro: “Could you find out what breaks someone?”

Tristan and Jordi flicked their gazes on Ichiro.

Pamela: “Wh-What do you mean?”

She brushed her hair behind her ear.

Ichiro: “Could you find out what would break someone mentally?”

He pinned her with a half-lidded stare.

Pamela: “I-I don’t know. My line of work is uncovering facts, and this sounds like something emotional. I don’t know if I could.”

She murmured. Ichiro grabbed her hand in his, gazing intently at her.

Ichiro: “I need to know if you can find out all you can about someone.”

He whispered. Pamela’s heart hammered in her chest.

Ichiro smirked at her and kissed her hand. He took both of her hands and kissed them all over and kissed each of her fingers. Pamela’s heart did flip-flops in her chest and could have leaped out of her cavity. Tristan and Jordi surveyed him.

Ichiro: “Find out what you can about a man named Fabien Bellegarde.”

He said softly. Pamela’s violet eyes sparkled. Tristan raised an eyebrow. Why Fabien? Because he and Celeste are in a relationship? He wondered.

Before Pamela could respond, Deimos marched up to Tristan and Jordi’s table. He wore a white sleeveless shirt with an American-flag skull, a denim vest, jeans, and cowboy boots.

Deimos: “The fuck are you doing with Tristan?!”

He snapped. Tristan gaped at him. Jordi laughed bitterly. Ichiro turned his head to see Tristan and Jordi seated close by, and with Deimos. Were those two spying on me?! He wondered.

Tristan removed his glasses and wiped his eyes.

Tristan: “Deimos, please leave.”

Deimos: “Stay away from MY man!”

He screamed at Jordi. Jordi felt the heat rise to his face and his fury soar. Tristan rose and put his glasses back on.

Tristan: “Deimos, GO!”

He whispered hoarsely.

Deimos: “No, Tristan! I’m sorry I fucked Jaxon and fucked things up! I fucking love YOU! I don’t know why I would ever cheat on such a perfect angel like you!”

He cried.

Tristan caught a waft of beer on his breath.

Tristan: “Deimos, you’ve been drinking!”

He whispered through clenched teeth.

Jordi: “Deimos, please go. You’re embarrassing Tristan and causing a scene.”

He said firmly. Deimos swung his glare to Jordi.

Deimos: “FUCK YOU, ROMEO! You’re fucking taking advantage of him!”

He rasped. Jordi gaped incredulously at Deimos.

Jordi: “I’m taking advantage of him? That’s rich coming from the man who did that to Jaxon.”

He countered. Tristan rubbed his temples and glared at Deimos as his tears of anger welled in his eyes.

Tristan: “Deimos, no one is taking advantage of me, but you’re going to make me cry, so please go home!”

He said, his bottom lip trembling.

Ichiro approached them.

Ichiro: “Good evening, gentlemen… Deimos.”

He smiled at them all. Tristan and Jordi glared at Ichiro.

Ichiro: “Very clever to spy on me, but I see your trailer trash boyfriend, who couldn’t keep his mitts off Jiro, put a halt to that, so thank you for that, Deimos! You’re not completely useless!”

He said wryly. Deimos bared his teeth.

In a flash, he punched Ichiro so hard that he crashed into an older couple’s table and flipped over. Tristan gasped and cupped his mouth. Pamela yelped and rose from her seat.

Deimos: “That was so Tristan couldn’t sully his delicate, soft hands punching you… and for what you did to Chelsea in Seashell Cove, too!”

He barked. Ichiro cupped his cheek and glared at Deimos. Pamela rushed to him.

Pamela: “Ichiro, are you okay?!”

She gasped and put a cold, damp handkerchief to his cheek.

Ichiro: “I’m more than okay, but shall we take our date somewhere else where nosy people won’t spy on us?”

He smiled at her. Tristan looked away with anger. Jordi knit his eyebrows.

Pamela: “Do you need to go to a hospital?”

She asked tenderly as she dabbed his sore cheek with a handkerchief. Ichiro’s right eye twitched.

Ichiro: “A hillbilly punched me. Just a flesh wound.”

He said through clenched teeth.

The two left the restaurant. An older man in a tuxedo approached Tristan.

Man: “I’m afraid you will have to leave. Here is your bill, sir.”

He handed the bill to Tristan.

Deimos: “I’m sorry, Tristan! I didn’t know you two were spying on Ichiro!”

He whined. Tristan took the bill and glared at Deimos. Jordi hung his head.

~

Tristan marched out to his car, with Jordi following.

Jordi: “Shall we meet up later?”

Tristan: “Yes, at my place, Jordi. I apologize for the events that unfolded tonight.”

He said and cupped his mouth.

Jordi: “How did he know we came here?”

He gazed up at the sky. Tristan looked away.

Tristan: “I don’t know…”

He muttered.

Deimos rushed out to Tristan.

Deimos: “Tristan, I am so sorry! I didn’t know you two were spying on Ichiro! I fucked it up! I fucked everything up!”

He cried. Jordi drew a rough breath.

Jordi: “You sound like Blair now.”

Deimos: “Shut the fuck up! I have a broken heart! It’s my fault! Blair and Ashley were never an item, and Blair doesn’t admit he fucked up!”

He blubbered. Jordi rolled his eyes and drew a short breath.

Tristan: “I’ll take him home.”

He nodded.

Jordi: “All right, Tristan.”

He smiled a bit.

Deimos heaved a deep sigh and got into the passenger’s side of Tristan’s car. Tristan climbed into the driver’s side and leaned back in his seat. He closed his eyes, removed his glasses, and wiped his eyes.

Deimos: “I’m sorry, Tristan.”

He murmured.

Tristan: “Shut up, Deimos.”

He put his glasses back on, slid the keys into the ignition, and started his car. He shifted into the first gear and drove out of the restaurant’s parking lot and down the road.

~

When Tristan took Deimos home, he helped Deimos climb up the stairs and into his bedroom. Deimos started to get undressed. When he was down to his boxer briefs, he toppled over and opened the drawer of his captain’s bed. He grabbed his navy tank top and navy plaid pajama pants and put those on. He then collapsed on his bed. Tristan sighed, pulled the sheets up, and helped Deimos get into bed. He took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand, where the portrait of him and Deimos stood.

Tristan went into his bathroom, grabbed a hand towel, and came out. He formed ice cubes in his hand and wrapped them in the towel. He then applied it to Deimos’ forehead. Deimos sniffled.

Deimos: “Don’t leave me, Tristan.”

He said beseechingly. Tristan looked away.

Tristan: “Maybe you shouldn’t have cheated on me…”

Deimos’ bottom lip trembled.

Deimos: “I’m sorry… I was scared. I thought I was losing you. You’re so angelic and perfect. What would you see in someone like me?”

He whispered and leaned into Tristan’s hand. Tristan bowed his head.

Tristan: “That is a good question, Deimos. What would I ever see in you?”

He pursed his lips.

Deimos inhaled sharply.

Deimos: “I never stopped loving you, Tristan.”

Tristan looked away.

Tristan: “Then why did you leave me at the park and cheat on me?”

Deimos: “As I said, it’s because I’m me and you’re you. I was scared of someone as superior as you would find better, and I overreacted.”

He admitted. Tristan drew a short breath.

Tristan: “You overreacted? That’s an understatement.”

He huffed.

Tristan: “You always told me I deserved better and… I’m beginning to see what you meant.”

He admitted with strain and started to break down.

Deimos knit his eyebrows and cupped Tristan’s face.

Deimos: “Tristan, I’m so sorry…”

Tristan shook his head.

Tristan: “You’re not sorry! You’re feeling guilty!”

He snapped through hot tears.

Deimos: “You’re the last person I ever want to hurt… and I hurt you badly…”

He cried.

Tristan: “How can we come back to this? You betrayed me, Deimos. I can’t trust you again!”

He sobbed.

Deimos: “I don’t know what came over me, Tristan… but I am sorry about that. Maybe I wanted to see if you loved me, too.”

He bowed his head. Tristan blinked and glared at him, baring his teeth.

Tristan: “I stayed by your side! I supported you! No matter how much you continually hurt me, I was there! If that isn’t proof of how much I loved you, I can’t help you, Deimos! This is an issue with you, not me!”

He bawled and smacked his chest. Deimos winced and wiped his eyes.

Tristan rose from Deimos’ bed.

Tristan: “Get well soon, Deimos.”

He said tersely and left his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Deimos lay back on his pillow, wiping his eyes, and turned over to his side, weeping.

Tristan removed his glasses, shed tears, and began cleaning them. Monica came upstairs and smiled at Tristan.

Monica: “Thank you for taking Deimos home, Tristan.”

She said gently. Tristan raised his eyes to meet hers and smiled.

Tristan: “Pleasure is mine, Monica.”

He started to go downstairs.

Monica: “Tristan?”

Tristan turned to her.

Tristan: “Yes?”

Monica’s eyelids dipped.

Monica: “I know Deimos made mistakes, but he loves you very much and your absence is tearing him up inside.”

She knit her eyebrows. Tristan heaved a deep sigh.

Tristan: “Well, if he loved me, he wouldn’t have done what he did. There is no coming back from betrayal.”

He said gently and looked away.

Monica: “Deimos and Lazaros don’t know how to deal with relationships, and this is why they do what they do. I am not excusing their behavior, but explaining that their love for their partners is genuine.”

She said genuinely. Tristan heaved a deep sigh.

Tristan: “Maybe, but the way he ‘loves’ me and Lazaros ‘loves’ Ashley isn’t always the right way.”

Monica: “Is there a right way to love someone?”

She chuckled. Tristan wagged his head.

Tristan: “No, but their ways come off as abusive.”

He admitted. Monica bowed her head.

Tristan heaved a deep sigh.

Tristan: “I am sorry. I know you love and care about those boys. I am genuinely glad they have you in their lives.”

He said earnestly. Monica smiled.

Tristan paused.

Tristan: “Monica, do you have any idea how Deimos knew Jordi and me were dining at Maison de Luxe?”

He asked her. Monica smiled.

Monica: “Someone hand-delivered a note informing him of where you and Jordi would be.”

Tristan gazed at her.

Tristan: “Did it state who it was from?”

Monica shook her head.

Monica: “No, they haven’t.”

Tristan looked away with a worried look. Monica peered into his face.

Monica: “Is everything all right?”

Tristan forced a smile and waved his hand.

Tristan: “Everything is fine.”

~

Ichiro and Pamela arrived at The Nobel Monarch Hotel to dine in the hotel’s restaurant. As Ichiro walked with her, he stopped when he saw Celeste alone in the ice cream parlor. She wore a Def Leppard tank top, a jean skirt, fishnets, ankle strap boots, a leather jacket, and a spiked collar. Ichiro ignored Pamela and strolled to Celeste.

Pamela: “Where are you going, Ichiro?”

She asked him. Ichiro shoved her away and marched to Celeste, grinning inanely.

A woman in a maid’s uniform handed her a parfait made mostly of fudge, pralines, whipped cream, cherries, and a little bit of ice cream. Celeste’s eyes sparkled. Ichiro sat across from her.

Ichiro: “My Green Queen is getting ice cream.”

Celeste gaped at him.

Celeste: “How did you know Jax was here?”

Ichiro: “Who cares about Jiro? Explain the process of putting your feet in fishnets.”

He bit his bottom lip. Celeste gaped at him. Pamela marched to Ichiro.

Pamela: “Ichiro, what are you doing?! Why are you with this punk girl?!”

Seh cried.

Ichiro: “Go have dinner with my brother, Jiro. I’m busy.”

He waved his hand at her. Pamela’s face flickered with hurt and bewilderment.

Celeste: “I roll up the fishnet stockings and I slide my feet into them and roll them on my leg.”

She explained as she popped cherries into her mouth. Ichiro bit his bottom lip. Pamela glared at Celeste.

Pamela: “Who is SHE?!”

She hissed.

Ichiro ignored her and smiled at Celeste.

Ichiro: “Celeste, would you wear a bunny girl costume? With nylons?”

He stammered. Celeste grimaced.

Celeste: “I hate rabbits, but a costume like that should be okay.”

She pouted. Ichiro beamed and reddened to her words.

Celeste: “I will wear it if you tell me who Borko is.”

She munched on her pralines.

Ichiro: “Okay, babe.”

He bit his bottom lip.

Pamela: “Ichiro, aren’t we supposed to have dinner?!”

Ichiro: “I’m in the middle of something. Go bother Jiro.”

He hissed at her. Pamela drew back, hurt and confused. She couldn’t understand why Ichiro was so kind and gentle to her before but was so mean and spiteful now.

Jaxon stood over Celeste. He wore a black button-down shirt with golden dragons on each side, black jeans, and Chelsea boots.

Jaxon: “Celeste, what are you doing with HIM?!”

He rasped. Ichiro sneered at Jaxon.

Ichiro: “She’s going to wear a bunny girl costume for me with nylons, Jiro. Go play with Deimos, so he doesn’t try to ruin more of your lawyer’s little plans to spy on me.”

He waved his hand.

Jaxon: “You’re not wearing that for him, Celeste! No, I won’t want to imagine HIM touching my lady the way I want to!”

He knit his eyebrows. Ichiro sat back in his seat.

Ichiro: “Didn’t you literally cheat on this green goddess with the world’s biggest loser?”

He smirked. Celeste bowed her head, and Jaxon looked away with hurt.

Ichiro: “At this point, you may as well throw in the towel and marry Noriko.”

He smirked.

Jaxon: “FUCK YOU! Stay away from MY Green Queen!”

He snapped and pulled Celeste away from him.

Ichiro watched Jaxon pull Celeste away, and he looked around for Pamela. She was gone. Great, I never got to ask her how to break Fabien, he thought bitterly.

~

Jaxon had Celeste in his bedroom. Celeste folded her arms and pouted.

Celeste: “I was SO CLOSE to getting him to talk about Borko!”

She snapped.

Jaxon: “I don’t want you to dress up for HIM! Look at what he did to me and to you!”

He cried.

Celeste: “Well, Tristan can’t find anything about Borko! No one can, and this is the only way!”

She huffed.

Celeste: “Besides, you did mess around with Deimos, and I took you back.”

Jaxon rubbed his temples.

Jaxon: “And I am sorry I did that! I fucked up, babe! I let my emotions and what happened at Seashell Cove cloud my judgment! I will own up to that I fucked up with Deimos and dwelling on what happened in Seashell Cove!”

He confessed and sighed.

Jaxon: “I spoke with Joe Bradford. He told me it’s not my fault, and I did what I could. We all did.”

He said with pain in his eyes.

Jaxon: “What good would finding out about Borko do now? The guy is dead.”

He threw his arms up.

Celeste: “We wanna know who killed him and who he was to Ichiro. It might help. You never know.”

She folded her arms.

Celeste: “I never said I would like this, and I won’t, but it’s not like we have a lot of options.”

She added. Jaxon sat in the armchair and gazed out the window.

Jaxon: “Yeah? And what does Fabien think?”

He asked bitterly.

Celeste: “I didn’t ask him yet because the idea just popped into my head.”

Jaxon furrowed his eyebrows.

Jaxon: “He would probably be okay with it…”

He muttered.

Jaxon: “Besides, Tristan figured out Dougal killed Borko.”

Celeste shrugged.

Celeste: “Yeah, but Dougal is a whale flopping and splashing around in his tub. That doesn’t tell us who he was to Borko. It just tells us Dougal is an angry killer whale.”

She said wryly.

Jaxon: “Yup, and Dougal was also in cahoots with Tristan’s weirdo uncle. Small world.”

He laughed bitterly.

~

Deimos was sleeping in his bed. A shadow loomed over him. Deimos’ eyes fluttered and snapped open. He looked up and saw Narcisse standing over him, grinning down at him. He wore a dark purple tailcoat, light purple trousers, a purple waistcoat, a white shirt with a high, starched collar, a dark violet cravat or neckcloth, tied into a sophisticated, high bow that partially obscured the chin, black ankle boots, and a dark violet top hat.

Narcisse: “Good evening, Deimos!”

He removed his top hat and bowed, and took a seat in his computer chair. He crossed his legs and removed his black gloves.

Deimos leaped out of bed, raised his hands, and braced his feet apart in a karate stance. Narcisse chuckled and put his hands up.

Narcisse: “Deimos, I am not here to fight you. I want to help you!”

Deimos: “You fucking touched Tristan, and hurt him!”

He rasped.

Narcisse: “Deimos, I did that merely to test you! You see, I never felt any of my nephew’s love interests were good enough for him, but you? You’re different. From the moment I met you, I had that hunch you brought out the best in him, and by George, you do!”

He laughed and clapped.

Deimos: “HOW?! I broke his heart!”

He barked. Narcisse drew a long breath.

Narcisse: “You did that because you feel you’re unworthy of his love and you feel like you’re…”

He leaned back.

Narcisse: “Holding him back.”

He smirked. Deimos froze.

Narcisse: “You couldn’t be more wrong, Deimos. I never saw a person bring out his potential quite like you.”

He smiled tightly.

Deimos lowered his hands.

Deimos: “No, I do not! Look what I did to him!”

He cried.

Narcisse: “This is a part of the reason why you love him so much! Your fear overrode your love, but I can promise you that I can see your love is genuine.”

He smiled tightly.

Deimos: “What kind of a person cheats on someone like TRISTAN!?!”

He slashed his hand through the air.

Narcisse: “A scared person. A scared person who was seduced by another force.”

He replied evenly. Deimos paced around his bedroom.

Deimos: “Yeah, well, what about Project Ghisyn?! Is he a result of that?!”

He asked sharply. Narcisse smiled.

Narcisse: “No, Deimos, that would be Bastien. This is why I had him locked away to keep him safe.”

Deimos gaped at him.

Deimos: “And the person in the hyperbaric chamber?!”

He challenged. Narcisse’s smile faded, and his right eye twitched.

He inhaled sharply.

Narcisse: “That is not important to winning Tristan’s heart, Deimos. Focus on his lovely being and not anything else.”

He nodded.

Deimos: “So… Bastien is from Project Ghisyn? Are you sure?”

Narcisse nodded and smiled tightly.

Narcisse: “This is why he was kept a secret from you all!”

He spread his arms out.

Narcisse: “Deimos, I am disclosing this to you because I trust you.”

He nodded.

Deimos: “What about your parents? Their graves said they died on the same day.”

Narcisse sighed and folded his hands behind his back, clenching his fist.

Narcisse: “That was nothing more than a bad case of food poisoning. The chef at that time, Jean-Pierre, made a meal to die for. His words.”

He said, taking on a plaintive tone.

Deimos: “I’m… I’m relieved Tristan is not a part of that project.”

He declared. Narcisse smiled.

Narcisse: “You have nothing to worry about, Deimos.”

Deimos bowed his head.

Deimos: “Tristan would be hurt again if I affiliated with you.”

Narcisse pursed his lips.

Narcisse: “I want to mend the bridge with my nephew. Deimos, we have so much in common… Our parents never approved of anything we did, we were ostracized in school for being too extraordinary, and we make mistakes due to that, but rest assured, I have my nephew’s best interest at heart.”

He clasped his hand over his heart.

Narcisse: “Tristan believes I am out to get him, but the last thing I want to do his harm him. He is precious to me, too.”

He removed his glasses to shed some tears.

Narcisse: “If you still don’t trust me, I was the one who delivered the notice of my nephew’s infidelity to you.”

He put his glasses back on.

Narcisse: “I didn’t want this to progress further, so I kept you in the loop.”

He nodded. Deimos cupped his mouth.

Deimos: “Tristan said they were spying on Ichiro.”

Narcisse pursed his lips.

Narcisse: “Perhaps, but it would have progressed, and you and I know it. We both know how…”

Narcisse inhaled sharply.

Narcisse: “...Utterly desirable Tristan is.”

He beamed. Deimos looked away.

Deimos: “He is.”

He smiled a bit.

Narcisse: “If Tristan wishes to spy on this Ichiro, it should be with you. The mission would have gone over smoothly had it been you.”

He smiled. Deimos raked his fingers through his hair.

Deimos: “Why are you helping me?”

Narcisse: “Because you are perfect for Tristan, and I want him to reach his true potential. You are the only one who can do it.”

He replied.

Deimos: “Why did you recruit Dougal?”

Narcisse sighed.

Narcisse: “Like it or not, Tristan crushed on that morbidly obese waste of space, and I wanted to test to see if that oversized menace could bring out the best in him.”

He said with some annoyance. He then smiled at Deimos.

Narcisse: “Sadly, he proved to be nothing more than a ginormous waste of time and space.”

He chuckled. Deimos looked away.

Deimos: “Yeah, Tristan used to crush on him.”

Narcisse patted his shoulder.

Narcisse: “But you saved him.”

He smiled. Deimos looked up at him and smiled back.

Deimos: “I did.”

Narcisse smiled at him and stepped back.

Narcisse: “I pray you will consider a partnership, Deimos. We’re both Team Tristan.”

He nodded.

Amanda teleported into his bedroom and scooped Narcisse in her arms.

Narcisse: “Adieu.”

They teleported away. Deimos stared out his window at the two moons. Could this be another chance to make things right with Tristan? He wondered.