Cordelia leaves the bathroom of the gas station, stuffing her yellow-lace dress into a bag. Instead, she comes out wearing the little black dress she wore the night of the break-in, just as the perpetrator wanted. She let her hair down from her loose bun—she’s shocked her hair didn’t crimp. They were five minutes away from their destination, so Cordelia didn’t have much time to think. Her father had been wary about this date, and rightfully so. He didn’t want to whore his own daughter out for the likes of his research—and to be fair, this dress did make her look promiscuous. She had tried to class it up with a white cardigan—although the deep plunging neckline wasn’t going to help her case. Was this a good idea? It’s probably the worst one she had yet—but she needed that money. The perpetrator doesn’t seem interested in hurting her—if that can bring her comfort. She’s fortunate that she has the loaner phone—she can give Sadie coordinates on where to go. Her father wanted Glen to take her, but Sadie would know something’s up. It’s about time Cordelia told her driver—and friend—what’s going on.

Cordelia opens the car door, throwing the cotton bag into seat over. She hears Sadie’s groans of disapproval.

“Why that dress?”

“Because it’s one of my favourites.”

Sadie moans. “After the press you had at work, you think going out in a dress like this is the best idea? Especially with some guy that you have told me nothing about.”

“That’s why we’re going out to Mountainview Peak. It’s a dead zone, and for the exclusively wealthy.” According to Phoebe, that is.

“I know it’s none of my business—but what’s going on? You and your father are sneaking about like you’re hiding something—ever since the break-in. And, why are you going on secret dates? I know you—you’re not the dating type. I want to know that you’re alright.”

“I’m okay—really.” Cordelia smiles softly. She’s blessed to have Sadie in her employ. “But it’s about time I told you what’s really going on.”

Sadie inhales sharply.

“It’s about the break-in.”

“When I saw those people in black rushed into the manor, I thought something terrible had happened—but your father reassured me that everything was okay—that it was a simple burglary.”

“…It wasn’t. My dad only told you guys that because he didn’t want Mom to know what really happened.”

Silence falls between the two briefly. “Do I want to know?” Sadie whispers.

“It’s going to sound ludicrous, so bear with me. My dad’s working for Willa Corp, an organization that studies dimension travel …or so I know. They’re all pretty shifty about their research.”

“What does that have to do with the break-in?”

“Well—this is the craziest part. The man who broke into my dad’s study says he’s from a different dimension—and my father destroyed his home. He’s adamant about it—to the point where my dad believes him.” Sadie’s wide brown eyes are reflected in the rear-view mirror. “I know, it’s insane. And, this guy only speaks Antillan, so I have to act as a translator—here’s the part you’re not going to like.” She says as Sadie pulls in. “I’m going on a date with him.”

Cordelia jolts forward—the seatbelt stopping her from flying into the back of Sadie’s seat. It’s a good thing she pulled into the parking lot, or Sadie could have caused an accident. “…Oh my soul.” Her tone is menacing. “Not him.”

“You don’t need to slam on the breaks.” Cordelia chokes.

“I’m sorry, Miss. But you’re out of your mind. I’m not letting you risk your life for Mr. Firthe’s fantasy hobby.” So Cordelia’s not the only one who believes this isn’t true. That’s nice at least. “Especially in that dress.”

“I’m not going to sleep with him if that’s what you’re concerned about—kind of hard in a public place.” She rolls her eyes.

“No, the right answer is I won’t sleep with him at all because he’s a criminal.” She mutters, gripping the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles are white.

“I know it’s not ideal—believe me—but my dad promised me something good. If I can deliver on my promise, I can finally leave the manor.”

“I get that you’re miserable, but is this really worth it? What if he threatens you—or worse—strangles you to death?”

“I doubt that’ll happen—and if it does, my father will give you a glowing reference.”

“Not funny.”

Cordelia rubs her hands together, attempting to find the right words to appease her driver. “Look, Sadie, I’m going to be fine. You said it yourself, you admire my determination.”

“To throw yourself at a man for your father’s sake—that’s wrong—not to mention that he should know better. I’m disappointed in Mr. Firthe.”

“I’m not throwing myself at him—it’s only for Intel.”

“You’re not proving me wrong.” Sadie unlocks the vehicle, sighing as she gives in. “Just please, be careful.”

“I will.”

Cordelia quickly inspects herself before she gets out. Maybe Sadie was right—he very well might kill her. No, there’s no reason to think that. He’d have nothing to gain by offing Cordelia—it’s that watch he wants. It’s her job to figure out why. She gives Sadie a side glance—it’s not enough. Sadie’s staying put until Cordelia gets back in the vehicle.

Figures.

She eyes the parking lot, seeing a black car pull in. The driver wears sunshades and a black suit. Cordelia doesn’t recognize him. Her heart pulses the minute the perpetrator steps out from the vehicle, his violet eyes upon hers—his lips curve into a suave grin. She smiles back—a trickle of embarrassment seeps through. This wasn’t really her thing—going out with strangers on dates. She’s more of a nightlife person. And, she would be able to do a lot more of that when she gets her down-payment.

Keep focused.

<Hello.> She crosses her arms, looking down at the smartwatch around his wrist. That’s new.

<Cordelia.> He purrs. Was he rolling the r’s of her name on purpose? <I’ve been waiting to see you.>

<Oh.> She says, frowning at the boardwalk.

<Have I offended you?> He asks, genuinely concerned.

<You offended me when you broke into my father’s office.> She rolls her eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. <But a deal’s a deal. I’ll try to forget about it.>

<Shall I introduce myself?> He speaks, his tone showing he too wants to move on. Cordelia nods, letting him speak. She only knows the Laurius part.

<I’m Radjerd Laurius.> Radjerd? Cordelia scratches her head. She’s sworn she’s heard that name somewhere. <Why the long face?>

<Because I still don’t trust you.> It’s a half-truth.

Radjerd raises an amused brow, <Yet you’re here…>

<This is a favour to my father. Don’t get the wrong idea.>

<Yet, it’s not your father who forced you to wear the little black dress, was it?> He chuckles.

<It was part of our deal—and besides—it’s one of my favourites.> She sharply turns from him, charging ahead despite not knowing where she was going. Cordelia doesn’t care—and desperately tries to ignore her curious gut. Dates made her uncomfortable—especially dates with perpetrators she found good-looking.

<You walk fast for a girl in heels.> Radjerd comments as he jogs behind her.

<You don’t walk fast enough.> She replies.

<Here, let me lead.> He says with an outstretched hand—she pushes it back. <I don’t want to force you, but, you’re going the wrong way.> Cordelia didn’t know the area, but she didn’t need him to guide her around. She had reception, a good GPS system and, the loaner phone Phoebe gave her. She pulls it out of her black purse—what? No service?! For fuck’s sake!

She groans, putting the phone back in her purse.

<I figure you’ll like where I’m taking you.> His smile is genuine.

<What gives you that impression?>

<You’re not exactly hard to research.>

<You researched me?!> Cordelia’s face flushes; of course he could—it’s not like her life was exactly private! She could thank the media for that.

<I couldn’t find much to go off of—but then again, you can’t always believe what the press say.>

<Do I want to know what you found?> Her stomach sinks. She knows it can’t be good.

<You’re hard to get along with—or—from the fact that the pictures of you were never with the same person.>

<That’s because my best friend at the time preferred to stay out of the limelight. I do in fact have friends before you start making assumptions.>

<I don’t doubt that for a second.> He smiles, matching her pace. <Although, I’m intrigued that you spent time in St. Antilla for as long as you did. You ever go to Honerva?>

<Yes—in fact, I wanted to live there before—well, let’s just say plans have changed.> She expects Radjerd to bombard her with questions—he doesn’t.

<Interesting… I used to live there. Great memories, but if you live on the wrong side of town—things can get sticky. It’s good that your plans have changed—you’d have been a target for robbery.>

<Ironic for you to say that.> She wryly laughs.

<It wasn’t a robbery—never mind. We’ll talk over lunch.>

Before long, they reach a well-decorated building with a white brick exterior. Fonchette is the name of the place; it’s a desserterie. A desserterie nestled away from the public? That’s not suspicious at all.