When I get home, Celeste and Jesse are already there. Cage looks torn over asking them to leave so that we can talk and prolonging our chat for as long as possible. While he ponders that mental dilemma, I cuddle with the other cutie in the room: Jesse. He seems nice enough, goo-goo gah-gahing at me in the most adorable way. He doesn't hide stuff, like Mr Garrison, he doesn't hate me like Kalvin... he's just perfect.

So much like Cage. The little cutie even has his charm, no doubt he'll be streamlining women from an early age; hell, he's even got Cage's nose and facial structure! Poor Celeste, she's gonna catch hell with this kid soon.

"Angel," says Cage, "Do we need to talk?"

Not glancing away from Jesse, I shake my head, "No, just avoid him and we'll be fine."

"You-" he stutters, at a loss for words, "but what about your...?"

"Relationship?" I ask, cocking my head at him.

He throws himself back into the couch, his hands splayed in the air in an exasperated gesture. "Well at least you can admit it!"

Placing Jesse calmly into his mother's hands I lean closer to him, "What the hell does that mean?" I demand.

"You don't admit things." He snaps, "It's what you do."

"Oh," I say, injecting false humour into my voice, "Just like you admitted that you loved a girl enough to marry her and mom and dad made her go away."

He jumps out of his chair and prowls over to me, "You don't have the right to say that!"

"Did you love her?"

"Yes."

I shove him back, "I loved him. And I didn't keep it bottled up for six years and then move continents away with a conveniently set up bank account and hitch a woman with a five year old... so don't tell me how to run my goddamn life!"

His eyes dart to Celeste then back to me, he doesn't even look mad at me for outing his past girl to his present one. Odd. He looks guilty... he looks just like Jesse.

The anger falls from me and I go numb.

"The girl from six years ago..." I trail off as he watches hesitantly, "Her name is Celeste isn't it?"

"I wanted to tell you." he buts in, "I was planning to take you here with me, I know how much you hated it in England."

"And Jesse?" I hiss, "You think I'm an idiot? He looks just like you! Don't you think I can add?!"

"I didn't want you to know." Says Celeste.

My head snaps to her. "Why?"

She stammers and glances at Jesse and then at Cage, "When I realized that you were my brother's new partner, I didn't want it slipping out to him. He thinks that the father abandoned me once he realized I was pregnant; and he doesn't care to hear anything else."

My eyes narrow. If this is true, then I could be forgiven... "So what really happened?"

"After your parents ran me out of England, I realized that Jesse had come into being and I sent a letter to Cage. He replied a few days later, to my address in America that he would be coming over soon, possibly with you." she says, at least Cage would have offered to let me tag along... which is more than I did for him when I escaped. "But Ruspin realized that I was pregnant and concocted a story that made Cage the bad guy. He said that if he ever found out who fathered the child he'd annihilate them, so I told Cage to stay away. Things have finally calmed... and I was just being selfish; I didn't want to ruin our happiness."

Even though I don't want to give in this easily it quite challenging. Mostly because Jesse is just too cute and I can actually picture Mr Garrison annihilating someone.

I'm not entirely sure about what I should do after this? Should I ask if they're getting married? If Ruspin knows who the father really is... hmm, I wonder if that's why he's so willing to kill Cage.

"So you told Ruspin about Cage?" I prod.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head in vehement denial. "I don't want him dead."

"I'm sure even Ruspin won't kill him when he realizes that he came all this way for you."

Celeste considers this, "Possibly, but I don't like chancing it."

"Oh, but this is so cool though!" I can't help explaining, with a smirk to Cage.

"I'm an aunt!" I chant, skipping around. I grab Jesse who grins along with me, "You can call me Aunty Angel."

Cage clears his throat, "I don't know if that's a good idea. Not if we want Ruspin out of it."

Defining moment in my life... crushed because of my boss.

"Phooey on him." I say to Cage, "You shouldn't have to hide. Besides, even if he does try to kill you, I'll shove him in a broom closet!" then I laugh at my own joke. Surely if Mr Garrison was here, he wouldn't be as appreciative of my humour as I am.

"Well it would be easier if he knew." says Celeste, "then Jesse will get to call you daddy, Cage." The look she gives him is so hopeful that I almost start begging Cage myself, but his face says it all. He's in.

"Next time I see him," says Cage, "I'll let him know."

Hurray! Hurrah!

Aunthood, here I come.



In the morning I glow my way through work. Not even Mr Garrison's criticisms of my best work or his chilly, dispassionate self, could breach my euphoria. I'm an aunt! Cage is a dad! And I can't wait to see Mr Garrison's face when he finds out.

Office.

Garrison

Who knew that being a business partner could involve so much movement. Although the book Mr Garrison so generously lent me is making life more plausible in his business world. It may as well have been written by him. It's calculating, cold, determined to squeeze the max amount of money out of any situation.

I'm sure, given the choice Mr Garrison would forego food, shelter and all basic necessities if it meant gathering funds for his epic take over. I totally aspire to be more like my boss.

Strolling into his office he's at his usual position, ie. staring at me from behind his desk. Only this time, there's something peculiar about his expression. He cocks his head slightly. For a man like him, this is like yelling over a PA system that he's curious.

"Hey Bossy." I say greeting.

Even though we're supposed to be partners, I have a sneaky feeling that he clandestinely does all the work behind my back.

He doesn't flinch at my nick name. Well, I'll get to him yet. I perch on his hard chair and mimic his stance, cocking my head at him also, except with my elated grin still plastered onto my face. He unplasters himself from the chair and gracefully leans across the table, not wanting to be outdone, and not wanting to pass the chance to possibly irritate him I follow suit.

Cute. Is astonishingly my first thought when I notice how his hair is developing a slight curl to it. Then my gaze migrates down his face... ooh... hot! Hot! No, cold! Frigid! Worse yet are his eyes. Like a mirror, they don't give any insight as to his thoughts, but I can see myself in them, thank God I don't look like I'm ogling him.

Merely the thought makes me want to move away from him. But then he would win this round. Nope, not going to happen. I can handle his manly charms a while longer... if I try not to think of him as a man.

Once again, what is wrong with me? He's kidnapped Bellamy! I should be plotting ways to rip his heart out... or at least some internal organs, since he's probably short of one heart at the moment. I shouldn't be thinking of his gorgeous masculinity, I should be... picturing him as a woman.

The wattage ups on my grin. Now there's a turn off... to believe I once thought he was a woman. I try to imagine him with longer hair and some cleavage, but his angular face ruins it. He narrows his eyes slightly and the glamour fades from my mind, returning him to his stiff, arrogant, bossy, detached, businessman-self.

"I take it your dialogue with Kalvin was pleasing?" he says, maintaining his gaze.

Deflation. My good mood evaporates, "No." I say, taking a page out of his book of silence.

Involuntarily, I lean away, cursing myself. "Not to worry, I won't reveal your secrets."

"Very well." he says. Well, at least he doesn't feel broken up about it. "And I take it you both will terminate all communication and thought, consecutively with and of, the other."

Terminate. That's exactly what he wants to do to me. Terminate me.

"No," I say, in a moment of rash stupidity, "Although he may want to terminate me, if you care."

The deadly silence in the room stretches, stretches and snaps.

"So, um, why did you call me in here?" I ask, hoping to hell that he'd just conveniently have partial memory lapse and forget all about my outburst.

"He said that to your face." He says, stroking one of his eyes brows and re-settling into his chair, his back as taut as a bow string poised to take the shot.

"Um, we should just... I don't know... let's forget about it."

He scorches me with his glare. "You brought it up."

Of course, he's right. Maybe if I give him something he'll drop it. "He said that he wanted to do to me what my parents did to him."

Mr Garrison suddenly shoots out of his chair and grabs my wrist, successfully hauling me out of my less than comfortable chair. His eyes presently resemble a concrete wall and he looks positively incensed. One would presume I'd just chucked a pile of his money out the window yelling, 'I love spending money.'

"You!" he says, glaring down at me; the vein in his forehead thrumming erratically. Jeez, what did I do? "You should have called me!"

"Called you?" I repeat stupidly. Why the hell would I call him? "I don't even have your number."

Cue 'glare of fire.'

"I'm sure you could have." He snaps.

"Well excuse me for not wanting or even thinking of telling you Mr I-don't-have-friends-I-have-people-I-use."

His already steel grip on my wrist tightens, "Annalise." He says it in his normal talking voice and of course she arrives... God-forbid Mr Garrison have to yell a command. Wait, was she listening to our conversation the entire time? Or worse, watching?

"Yes sir." She says, completely ignoring me.

"I'm re-assigning you to Ms Periwinkle." He says.

"What!" Annalise and I both blurt.

"This is non-negotiable." He says, I'm not sure to who.

"I don't need a body guard."

Insert glare.

Insert outrageous face (from me).

Insert uncompromising face.

Insert... weird beeping noise?

Mr Garrison dips into his pocket, retrieving his fossilized phone, glances at it and says, "We're going to the Caribbean." And snaps the phone shut.

"We?" I ask, "As in me, we?"

"Me, you."

"Why?"

Cue utter unresponsiveness.

"Is it because of that girl that you're looking for?" I ask, winking at him.

"That's none of your concern." He says brusquely.

"Isn't it?" I ask, mimicking his tone. "we're partners so your business is my business."

"I disagree."

"So this woman has no connection to you whatsoever, because as much as people don't like to say it, business and pleasure never remain separate. You made me tell you about Kalvin, and I know how much you like your money, so this is in your best interests." I say, smirking at him.

"I never mix business with anything. Least of all pleasure. I'm not you." he says icily.

Huffing at him, I prepare my next tactic, "This woman is someone who's clearly important to you."

"She's not."

Oh so this woman that he's been searching for is of no consequence... and I'm just supposed to believe that. To be quite honest, I have no doubt that he has any issue whatsoever extricating his business and pleasure ventures, I just want him to become annoyed enough to stop caring about my life.

"You can't decide that." I say instead, "It's a conflict of interest."

"It's none of your concern." He says, gritting his teeth.

"Your business is more than my concern."

Doesn't that dignify a response? I suppose not.

"Fine, what should I pack for this trip?" I ask snippily.

"Anything you want, as long as you have a bathing suit."

My mouth falls open. Not just because I don't own any, but because I can't wear any.

"Um... I don't have any."

His eyes roam me, "I'm sure there's a way to remedy that."

"But that would be such a waste of money." I breathe, hoping to appeal to his baser, money-driven self.

"This is necessary." He says, standing and walking over to me. Jeez, why couldn't he be taking those determined steps towards someone else.

"Why is a bathing suit necessary?" the whiny tone does little to help me.

"Because we're going to pretend that we're on a retreat."

"Why would we do that?" I ask.

"I've never done it." he replies, tilting closer to me.

"So if we're not retreating, then what are we doing?"

"Pretending to retreat." He replies, and I huff. Not the best idea, he probably smelt breakfast, which happened to be French toast.

"Look, you're going to tell me eventually, but I'm not wearing a bathing suit."

Breath rushes past my face; Mr Garrison has moved even closer now, and of course, I don't smell any of his breakfast, I don't even smell toothpaste! How can he be so effortlessly withdrawn?

Fine, another tactic then, "I don't look in a bikini." At least, not after what happened subsequent to the marriage arrangements. "I'd be sparing you."

"I disagree." He says shocking me, "Tu es a couper le spouffle."

These words like a wave wash over me, I don't even think it's English... but it's the 'I disagree' part I concentrate on.

Not sure what to say, I stand there like an idiot while he waltzes back to his desk.

"What language was that?" I ask.

The classic: no response.

"I'm still not wearing that bathing suit." I huff. Infuriating man! Can't he be human for just one minute?

He doesn't even look at me.

Since I'm about to leave for who knows how long, I decide that freeing Bellamy is probably a good idea. I'm sure that, with my tape I can scrounge up some of Mr Garrison's finger prints from somewhere. Damnit! The man works here, there should be some trace of him! I sneak back downstairs only to see an elevator stop right outside the painting. Well, dearest Ruspin has a hidden elevator fetish.

Him and Monty step out and head straight into the painting. So much for me hoping that he was oblivious to this.

Following them through the tunnel, I do my best to keep my distance. If they try doing anything to Bellamy today, at least I'll be there to disrupt them. From around the corner I hear Mr Garrison grows and a dull thud. Taking a breath, I prepare to rush in there and take them on. Mr Garrison may prove to be the only real problem, but hey, at least I won't have to search for his finger prints.

Scurrying forward, I plan to use my momentum to throttle one of them, but I pull up short; my shoes making an audible scoff on the ground as I notice the cage where Bellamy was. Was. Meaning that he's not there now.

"What the hell!" I shriek. Bellamy is missing, they must have moved him... but then why would they return here to look for him? Shit! Hopefully they'll interpret my outburst as shock.

Mr Garrison's gaze snaps to mine and I stumble back a step. Okay, I need to get some answers here.

"Why do you have these?" I ask, my breath shuddering out of my mouth.

"They came in the infrastructure." He says, still simmering.

"And you use them?" I ask, voice shrill, "For people?"

The muscle in his jaw ticks and it hits me. My father had cages like these where he kept slaves. Even though the trade is illegal, he doesn't seem to care and he used them as servants, when one went missing, we knew that they were either sold or beaten to death. My muscles tremble as I stare back at Mr Garrison... what if he's no different?

I prod on, "Are you in the trade?"

Anger flashes across his face before he can maintain control. "No."

"Then what?"

"I had a man here." He says. Monty starts edging forward, the dim candle light flints off the knife in his hand.

"Why?" I ask, poised to sprint away if he charges.

Rubbing his wrist thoughtfully, Mr Garrison steps towards me, "At first I thought that he was the baby's father. Then I realized that it was Cage! So I had planned to release him. He thought I was coming to kill him, he said that he heard Monty speaking about a document that I have about a new energy source; that I should keep him alive as he knows the author."

What? Bellamy must have been grasping at straws...

"Did you torture him?" I ask.

"He gave the information willingly."

"Who's the person you're looking for?"

He raises a hand showing a ring. The same ring that Kalvin gave to me.