He whorls me away from Mr. Garrison like a pro. Before I can thank him, he disappears and so has my former dance partner. Getting bored of this party, I take the elevator down, thankful for the lack of stairs. That would've been the one thing I would not have missed... those torturous fifty fights.

Just a minute, I almost jump out of the elevator when I realize who's at the back. Mr Garrison and lip gloss guy are huddled in the back corner of the elevator, amidst the crowds of people jam packed. Well, jam packed is not a suitable expression, they're just pressed onto me in their desire to lean away from the arguing pair.

"He's offering you five and a quarter million." Whispers lip gloss guy.

"I won't sell anything. He will never ever benefit from anything to do with me. He knows this; yet he persists." Scoffs Mr. Garrison, "Such is the mark of a stupid man."

"You know Michelangelo. I would hardly call him a stupid man."

"Mentally addled." Corrects Mr. Garrison.

"The past is in the past. We are sensible businessmen who don't mix private and personal lives." Continues lip gloss.

"Whoever said that I was a sensible businessman?" demands Mr Garrison.

Fortunately... or not, for the elevator inhabitants, they decide to leave. They both shove past everyone, and on his way out, neon shirt lip gloss guy grabs my hand and leads me out of the elevator. Mr Garrison is already striding towards the doorman. The man wisely opens the door without any sort of greeting and Mr Garrison marches out into the bustling streets.

"Twice in one night." I say, gazing up at him, "And I don't even know your name."

"Adam Hessle." He says, grinning at me.

"And Adam," I say, smirking at him, "You don't happen to know anything about the whereabouts of my lip gloss do you?"

"Of course not!" he says, feigning offence, "I certainly have no use for it. Besides, it's polluted with your spit!"

"I wouldn't exactly call that pollution." I say. I wonder if he'll spill on the details of Mr Garrison's dealings with his boss, "What were the two of you arguing about?" I query sweetly.

Giving me a knowing look, he glances around, "My boss wishes to purchase a marina in his possession, but he refuses to sell. We estimate that it will fall into bankruptcy soon, and we plan to repurpose it."

Marina. That must be the marina that the dolphin went missing from. He said he knew exactly who stole it... "Who is your employer?"

"Dr Michelangelo Lennox." He says, "We own the largest company in the world."

"I could've sworn that was Mr Garrison's title." I say, slightly snippily. I'm not defending him; I'm defending the honour of my place of work.

Adam's eyes lock onto the door and he stands taller. There's only one thing that can mean. I glance at the door and sure enough, in walks a man with a prim suit and stern look. Typical successful business man look, they never out-grow it. He glares at me then says to Adam, "The boss wants you to return to the company, there's a situation."

Looking as though he doesn't have a care in the world, Adam winks at me and says, "I certainly look forward to seeing you again." Then proceeds to stroll out the door like a ball of neon wonder. Why couldn't everyone be as happy as him? Or is he high? He certainly didn't look high.

Well, seeing as I'm all the way down here, I might as well go for a walk. I head in the direction Mr. Garrison went. If I'm lucky, I'll eavesdrop on some more juicy info about his business rivals. Otherwise, I'll just head down to the ice cream shop and order a toffee, fudge, caramel supreme. Never have ingested anything more delectable in my life.

Something nags in the back of my mind. I know it's something important; detrimental even... but it's just out of my reach. One of the most annoying feelings in my life. Hopefully, some frozen delights will cheer me into remembrance.

At Haagen-Dazs I see the most peculiar thing: Mr Garrison seated next to the humungous strawberry ice cream poster with a multi coloured cone in his hand. Bewildered, I rub my eyes hoping that I'm hallucinating, that something will change. When my vision refocuses I'm elated to find that something has changed... just not what I wanted.

Mr Garrison stills sits there with his vibrant variegated frozen treat glaring at the man across from him, who's back profile is the only thing I can see, with enough heat that his ice cream should be a puddle on the table. Gathering my frazzled wits, I enter the shop, still marvelling at the latest turn of events. Mr Miser, buying an unnecessary treat. He's currently in heated stare-down with the broad shouldered man across from him. I'm surprised that he's not intimidated; just the man's shoulders are twice his size, but no, my lovely boss doesn't get intimidated. He intimidates.

After a while, since the line is long, he notices my staring, or probably smells my shock and his eye twitches. I'm not the only one who noticed the almost unperceivable movement. The man across from his cocks his head and turns. Swiftly, I pretend to be engrossed with my phone screen, so much so that I don't even notice that the line has moved up until the cashier bellows at me. Sheepishly, I make my order and pay.

The man who sits with Mr Garrison is gone. Pity, I would've loved to have seen his face. I glance around... even though I didn't see his face, I felt inexplicably scared. Ensuring that he's gone, I register the power of Mr. Garrison's gaze. He stares icily at his ice cream while, I rest my container next to him and slide across. It'll be interesting to converse from this angle, since at the office we're always across from each other. This is the closest I've been to him; except for his dance.

Without a word to him, I shove the spoon into my sundae and close my eyes savouring it. With my eyes shut, his presence is almost welcoming, but he has to ruin it.

"Stalker." He muses, "Never thought you'd stoop so low."

After these few days, I'm learning to control my responses to his insults, one significant motivator, is that it seems to annoy him to no end. Which is what happens now. His jaw ticks as I continue with my ice cream. I stare him in the eye and lick my spoon. He licks his ice cream, but in such an unobtrusive way that I can't even see his tongue! I've always wondered if it's like a serpent's, and I'm losing a perfect opportunity to find out.

"Who was that man?" I ask.

I spare him another glance. With the ice cream to cover his sneer, he almost looks normal... which makes him supremely more dangerous.

He takes another lick and this time I see the quick flash of his tongue. It's pink, actually a pretty nice tongue, compared to most other tongues.

"Someone I dislike tremendously." He mutters, and shuts his eyes, taking another lick.

"He's the dolphin-napper." I say, in shock. To believe that Michelangelo was so close.

Mr. Garrison's eyes snap open, "As I said, I don't like him."

"What's with you two?" I ask, "Is he trying to dethrone you before you've even ascended?"

He stares at me with what closely resembles an incredulous stare, "How do you know?"

Wanting to keep him stewing for a while I continue with my leisurely licking, then turns to face me. "This is dangerous business." He says lowly, "you shouldn't involve yourself."

"I interrogated Adam, from the elevator." I chirp, filing away his warning.

He leans closer to me, looking for signs of deception, I keep my face straight. "You work efficiently then." He says with grudging appraisal.

"Why won't you do business with them?"

"That answer is the same description for him." he says cryptically.

"How revealing." I say sarcastically, gazing dejectedly at the last bite of ice cream, I ate the entire thing and I think my stomach will burst if I even attempt this last bite.

"Can't finish it." says Mr. Garrison in a slightly mocking voice.

Screwing up my face I nod.

"How does it taste?"

Seriously, he's never tasted this? I ask him as such and he responds brusquely, that he's never had the will to waste money on such a frivolous, sweet item. Then I kindly point out: "You just devoured a rainbow. A sweet one that you no doubted paid for."

Without even a twitch, he gazes at me, meanwhile his hands have grabbed my spoon and I almost faint as he pushed the spoon that is probably coated with my spit into his mouth with the last bite. A waiter suddenly drops something and when I glance, I see the staff righting him. When I look back, Mr Garrison doesn't look anything out of sorts. My container has vanished and he still licks his cone with more enthusiasm than I've ever seen.

The man likes his ice cream.

"Well, I should head back. Should I tell Celeste you're here?"

He doesn't reply, just stands along with me, and I see his hand lift and approach my face. For the slightest second of panic, I think of my father and flinch, but then his hand barely touches the top of my lip. When I look at him, his hands are my his side and I absently wonder, what's wrong with him tonight? And worse, what's wrong with me? I could almost say that his hands felt nice.

Nice hands...

The memory of his hands brings everything else from that day rushing back to the surface. The dolphin kidnapping, the club, the drink, him rattling me in the car, the soldier in the secret corridor and the vilest realization of all: Bellamy, locked in a cage. To believe that I quit today, he would've been left in there forever, except that Mr Garrison forced me to return... but then he also locked Bellamy away. Why? How? Bellamy is a seasoned soldier... the best of the best, my parents would have nothing less for me.

Say what you will but the king and queen were very protective of their lineage, even me, who's forth in line for the throne.

I'll stay on for as long as I need, find out what Bellamy did to get locked up and then free him.

Mr Garrison, stares at me wordlessly, maybe under the quiet exterior he's a mental case. Quiet isn't even the word to describe him; brooding, calculating, maybe. Then he licks his finger, the one that he touched me with, confirming his mental aliment. How can he have a man locked away and act this way? With a great gesture, I contained my disgust, managing to nod at him, before fleeing to the safety of the dark, criminal prowled streets of the city.

Maybe I shouldn't be that judgemental, my father, the king, did it more often than not. Kept war criminals locked away, and then negotiated with their country like all was fine and dandy. I don't see how he could've expected Cage to fill his disgusting shoes. Karen would've been a more sensible candidate.

I just need to pretend as though everything is normal until I can rescue Bellamy and even then, I'll have to remain my usual self even after to avoid detection... I'll have to get him to tell me more. Maybe this is part of his plan to become king by bankruptcy.

"Get in!" I jump in fright and knock into a passer-by, who shoves me away. I glance to my right, seeing Mr Garrison's rickety vehicle cruising at it's safest speed: half a mile per hour.

Not wanting to seem abnormal or suspicious, I get in and start complaining, when I feel as though enough time has elapsed, a just glance out the window. Contemplating on how I should investigate...

"Speak." He says.

Wonderful, he's a mind reader.

"I want to know your plan for becoming king."

If he's surprised, he masks it well. "Well I don't wish to tell you."

"I could be useful."

"And in danger."

I open my mouth to list all the reasons that I should be let in on the plan but he interrupts, "This is the end of the matter!"

With a huff, I slam back as hard as I can into his seat and he winces on his car's behalf.

"I think I deserve to know what has us driving around in a steel trap because you've decided to conserve more money than energy!"

He narrows his eyes, "You're quite close to half of the answer."

"Energy?"

"Yes."

"And the other half?"

He maintains his silence for so long that I don't think he's giving me anymore then, "It's something that all the rulers these days practice that will lead to their downfall."

"Deception?" I venture.

"No. Worse."

And I'm guessing that he is not going to elaborate on that, so I don't even bother asking.

"You were mentioning my poor ethic as a superior to you."

"Yes." I say, almost jovial that I'm getting to air my grievances in the most unfiltered way possible, "You treat me and everyone else like trash then expect us to treat you differently."

"I've already done the relevant work to acquire my position, why should I grovel, you on the other hand represent an entirely different case." He says

"So just because I haven't had the opportunity to become as wealthy and as renowned as you I deserve to be treated as lesser?"

"You are lesser."

I almost flinch, "I could disagree." How do I say this? People probably didn't help him get here, but he did... "But how did you make it here?"

"I am a driven person." He says, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Some people may not be as driven as you are." I counter, "As a leader you should be supportive, not a destructor of self-worth."

"You should be back in England, sitting in a house." He says, "And as for those who are not as driven, then they lack the potential for grandeur."

This time I can't hold back my reaction, "So you think I don't have potential for grandeur?" I snap. "I'm sure people thought the same of you."

"Quite right." He says, "and you really must stop misinterpreting my words. I said those not you. In fact you've lasted considerably longer than my other partners." The slowness of his speech is almost as suspenseful as a horror.

Oh, and the plot thickens. That explains Mr Moray's distress and frantic approval of me when he saw me in the street. At the time I thought that it was just his general behaviour... or lack of mental soundness, which seems the more likely case.

"What was wrong with them?"

"They were unable to cope with my mannerisms and expectations."

"I can sympathise."

Something changes in his expression but the car passes the street light and falls into momentary darkness and he's as expressionless as usual. I glance at him once more, satisfied that nothing is out of place. If it's one comforting thing about this man, it's that he's predictable... any deviation means something sinister is afoot. The rest of the five minute drive is silent, but it's a nice kind of silence, one that was unattainable at the palace where children and servants bustled about like bees. It could be perfect if not for the fact that my mind is consumed by thoughts of stealing Bellamy from under his nose.

When he drops me off at the entrance, I turn to hear the honk of the car, geez, even the horn sounds serious.

"The emissary from Asia is arriving tomorrow to brief us on the situation."