

The Color Of Trouble

By Cora Sacha

Copyright 2019 Cora Sacha

# Smashwords Edition

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Chapter 1- Violet

Stilettos.

Red.

Echoing on his epoxy floor?

Taa taa. Taa taa.

The unusual feminine sound halts David Rhineston's fountain pen, the point inches from underlining Eric's strengths. Edward Ruvara, ten-year-old mischievous (or misunderstood to David) Eric's father, is at that moment on his way for a first meeting with David.

The boy needs to be taught tactic. Getting caught trying to sneak a snake into his mother's purse is poor execution of a brilliant plan. He should've had a back-up plan since he doesn't posses a natural silver tongue like his father.

Of the five unique locations he likes to unlock personalities, David chose this enormous Italian style mansion for Eric for its male dominance. He sensed, from the mother's selfish complaints, the boy needs male handling as soon as before he was born. Instead of screaming, there's to be spanking. In place of complaints, action. The mansion also boasts of a library rivalled by no other. This will feed the boy's curiosity whilst the space provides freedom of exploration and mental growth.

'A great engineer,' David tells himself sensing it in his bones. He's glad Edward's trusting him with Eric, putting aside their personality clash. God knows how much talent is lost because parents want to mould their children using their own blueprint instead of the blue print the child's born with.

'I mean, we all have our own unique DNA even if we inherited it afrom our parents. Why then are we forced to be a specific person when our body knows what it needs. After all, it divided and specialized without anyone's help. Of course,' David pushes his reading glasses up his roman nose, 'we need guidance to read our blue print. I suspect not many know how to read other people's blueprint the way I do.'

David sighs. Edward is going to be hard to persuade to let the boy lead his own way. Being one of the richest men in the city, Edward believes commerce runs the world from household to empires.

'Excuse me.'

The voice, like rivers of syrup tickles, his ears.

'Marylin Monroe,' he curses remembering the invasion of his male world by a feminine sound. He raises his head such that the view shifts from his rich and curly dark tresses, which glimmered in the sun strimming in from the tall rectangular window behind him, to his beryl eyes which first seek the intruders red shoes. His appreciating gaze then shifts to a slim, tall and straight figure wrapped in a fetching short black peplum dress. He ends his study abruptly with her wavy black pixie hair.

'Violet Ruvara!' The country loving heiress to the flower breeding empire poises by the door. He's never met her, although he's interacted with her cousin Edward Ruvara on numerous occasions. 'How can I help you?'

He doesn't stand up nor is his tone welcoming. Its a surprise to him he spoke in a civil manner at all. Not with ripples of pain travelling through his muscles as his five personalities complete the link that started as soon as he recognized her from the magazines he reads occasionally.

Bad news.

His five personalities, which he views as five points of a star, are distinct.

Were.

They were easier to control that way, because of the difficulty of switching. Now that he can switch faster, it will be like witnessing the person you love transform into a stranger at universal speed limit.

For him, its not a problem. He's in control. Always. On the other hand, each of his different versions attracts and repels different people. None attracted to more than one version. If he transforms haphazardly it is bound to cause confusion. Like building an igloo in the middle of Dubai.

'Star can handle all of them. Edward, clashes with all of them. Violet, as recently discovered, is in synchrony with all. Another Ruvara to deal with,' he concludes deciding to bellow for Charlie if he can't get rid of her in five minutes. He slowly removes his reading glasses. Although they're a good for reading personalities, they take away chunks of what you're in reality.

'Reality versus what should be. We're always short changed to be less than what we can be.'

'Mr. Rhineston,' she replies measure for measure as she saunters into his office after judging his perusal complete. Her own assessment of him begins. Although he's seated in a throne like chair behind his impressive leather topped desk, she can tell he fills his sky-blue shirt and mahogany V-necked sweater with muscle. His large biceps flexing as he moves.

However, it is the power she feels discharging from him that interests her. It's not merely physical, as from most men including her father and cousin. It's an unusual mix of both intellect and physical dominance. He likes to practice the former leaving the latter to others. No wonder he placed a giant Goliath by his door.

It required her wit and determination to answer Star's single-minded interrogation with confidence as he unmercifully glared down at her.

'Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Rhineston.'

'Yes, with Mr. David Rhineston.'

'Edward, my cousin, has fallen sick and asked me to attend on his behalf.'

'Of course, I do have a letter supporting this claim. I am Eric's aunt. That's a letter signed by blood.'

She had shouted the last producing a twitch of his mouth so fast she almost missed it. It's the only sign of emotion he showed her. If not for that small gesture, she would have retreated when he warned, 'I give my trust freely, but once lost its lost. Like how one dies.'

David watches, transfixed, as she swishes her dress and advances to his side of the desk until she's standing behind him. Violently, she throws a newspaper onto his Louis VII desk.

Mr Rhinestone is searching for a suitable charity to donate one million dollars to. All charities that are in dire need of financial aid must contact him on the contact details below and must send a representative to the Pentagram by 30 October.

She watches as recognition enters those beautiful beryl eyes such that they enlarge with evident surprise. The eyes, she admits, are his most captivating feature. Not to underestimate his classic handsomeness. Hundred years from now he will still be the epitome of handsomeness.

'Marylin Monroe,' he shouts in a soft confident baritone, clutching the paper like it's silk with elegant fingers. He never expected anyone to see the advert. Least of all the heiress to a blooming flower empire. Pan intended. He'd deliberately placed the advert in a magazine for the rich who didn't bother to look at the good deed column or would be intimidated by the Pentagram.

'I contacted Charlie a month ago but he said you were busy and would get back to me. Now I see you had no intention of doing so.'

David smiles wickedly, surprising her with the warmth in his smile and the false reassurance that he'd honour his word. A part of her registers, in awe, that he's switching personalities. She'd read about his multiple personalities and how he controls them so he helps boys love who they are. A successful business considering her cousin is bringing Eric. Yet she never dreamed it would be this awesome or captivating like watching the seasons change, only at a faster rate.

She pouts doubting if he knows he's switching or if he knows which of his personalities is the dominant one.

Gulping for control David switches back before his Alpha self unleashes. Rationality is not part of his Alpha form and he really needs to be rational. He stands up in one swift movement and naturally places a firm hand on her trim waist to lead her outside.

'I have been so busy, Violet. It takes so much energy to unlock another's inner personality.'

The way he says it in his baritone makes it seem like its not a lousy and uncreative excuse. Violet glares at him under thick eyelashes unimpressed as she exits his office.

Behind her, David senses her persistence and itches to transform into his Alpha form who will no doubt rid of her with no guilty conscience. For now, David hopes the lighting fast personality switches are in her presence only.

'Charlie informed me that you have friendly golf match on Friday. We'll discuss the best way to send the money. I think it's best to send it directly to the children's various schools.'

'Sheer will and action,' he concludes before dryly replying, 'You are welcome to attend.'

'I wasn't asking for your invitation, Mr. Rhineston. We both know you wouldn't offer one.'

'Edward,' she squeals as a lanky man leisurely leaning on Charlie's desk comes into view. In the time it takes David to blink she's slipped from his hold and is nestled in Edwards arms which rest on her waist.

'To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise,' Edward glares at David for an answer over Violet's short hair. Any answer coming from the female, his cousin, in his arms will be poisoned to suit her purpose. David shrugs casually as he views the scene, amused at the change in Violet. Cold and calculating to warm and flexible faster than it takes him to shift.

'Eric is my nephew, I must be present to decide what's best for him. I don't trust you with this because of your personality clash,' she explains whilst poking her cousin's chest to get his attention.

'David?' Edward decides to leave the unpleasant task of getting rid of Violet to the other man, 'What's your protocol.'

'Oh!' Violet cries cheerfully, drowning any reply from him, 'I already thoughtfully asked Charlie to bring an extra chair and tea.'

On cue Charlie appears with a cushioned chair. With the wave of her hand, Violet orders him to put it in the office. The young man hurries inside, sets the chair and rushes out to fetch the tea. Violet, sets it upon herself to lead the way into David's spacious office which unfortunately contains his desk and a teal round table. She delicately situates herself on the latter. Charlie dashes inside to serve her tea in china cups that David is sure he doesn't own.

Both men, although unaware of this fact, are thinking of how Charlie will gladly die for Violet because he treats her like a dearest friend. Edward sighs, silently calling out vile curses as he drops into a chair.

David grins. 'Edward and I are going for a walk.'

'In your ugly gardens.' Instead of stumbling to stand, as he expected, she calmly sips her tea and stares at his unkept gardens outside his window. 'I wonder which of you I'll be burying?'

David reluctantly admits she's right. One of them must step down in regards to this issue. David, whose got nothing to lose, requires total co-operation from Edward. Anything less, is like investing in a company you know is going to fail.

'She probably saw what I intend to tell Edward. Knowing his reaction, rage, she stayed to act as a buffer. Considerate of her.' The last statement is sarcastic. Both men had managed to meet twice without her help. They can manage a third time. If a few fists, or bullets, are exchanged, it's okay.

Leaving no room for snide comments or arguments he announces, 'We will leave you to wonder. Charlie will gladly assist you in that.'

Edward rises smoothly, grudgingly praising the others strategy. If you can't get rid of her, move yourself.

Violet, although she felt his intellect, is surprised at its evident display and smoothness. As the men's steps merge into the silence, her throbbing headache eases to a prickle. She's never completely connected with someone. This, added to David's five personalities initiated the headache. Her brain felt like it was hammering at her skull the moment she entered the office.

Even her mother who is close as a sister, who taught her to read people's energy flow and control it, does not connect with her so completely or fully. The downside is David sensed it and broke the connection as soon as it was weakened by distance. She suspects in a few days, he will be able to block her.

Not on her watch. She didn't spend all that time dangling on a different man's arm each week so she could be labelled a gold digger in the tabloids. She was digging. For something more precious than gold. Now that she's found him, she won't let him escape. He holds the key to her blooming.

Pan intended.

Tomorrow the picture of violets in a field will arrive, disguised as a thank you present for Charlie.

Her gift allows her to feel people's energy flow, therefore, merging with them. Like going with the rivers flow, you don't become the river but you feel the direction of the flow, the speed and strength. Its not a powerful ability, but she's mastered it enough to be able to manipulate people without them realizing. She can also predict tendencies, habits and possible action. However, there is parts of it she can't access.

It's a bonus that the person with the answers is also the person who will help her send seven precious children to their dream destinations.

Chapter 2- Red.

On Friday night, David harshly unlocks the door to his bachelor penthouse, annoyed because he missed a game of golf creating inexistent children and fake backgrounds so it seems he trained orphans for free, in order to avoid vicious Violet grabbing his inheritance to increase her own. A cumbersome task he had to perform personally although Charlie could have done it better and in half the time. However, David doesn't trust Charlie to be on his side when Violet finds out.

In their circle, it's not lack of knowledge that prevents action. You smell the rat, but you don't act to kill it because you can gain from the rat either directly or indirectly. The law isn't applied, rather instinct rules.

Violet wants the money at all cost, his only chance is to prove to the others in their circle he spent it. The court is useless, since its controlled by money.

The accusation aimed at Violet is unfair, though, because he senses her sincerity and her expectance of it from others. David's, with his multiple personalities is far from sincere. The idea behind the advert was to make five of his financially disowned students believe him when he tells them they don't need the money.

He started his recruitment company with nothing more than an idea and a gift doctors labelled a disorder. Today he has both a company and a private personality building school for boys. Plus, a high position in an elite organization THE PENTAGON.

I'm not paying a dime to her. She's a gold digger, willing to hang on the arm of any men for money.

Routinely the lights switch on and David shags off his leather jacket, deliberately thinking of Eric's predicament as he dumps his jacket on the vinyl chair sitting in his sitting room. Eric certainly is not the first child to be crushed by daunting expectations. The house will be a good environment for the boy.

'You have so many clothes, it's like a fashion show in your wardrobe. Designer to sportswear.'

'Marylin Monroe.'

Heart racing at 180km per hour, he twirls to stare at Violet struggling to carry a full golf bag from the sitting room to the kitchen where he is headed. Composed, he throws her a crescent smile.

'I have to look the part I am acting. Superman has his cape and Spiderman his mask.'

'I am Atlas carrying the world. The weight of those children's future rests on my shoulders.'

"So, you came to pass on the weight to me? It's a good thing I already have the right attire.'

He puffs out a cold breath, then offers to carry the bag by reluctantly holding out his strong hands. Instantly, she comprehends his metaphor and reflexively holds the bag tightly.

"No!' she firmly states making David think, once more, of a bulldozer, 'Mr Rhineston, this load can be carried by me only. It's not a relay. I must run the race alone. However, you can help make it lighter. I can extract a golf club." She does so and instinctively leans towards him to whisper softly, "I cannot just take out any. It must be appropriate, apt and ensure success. With the bag still on her back she replaces the club eloquently.

'In short, I have come to ask you not to carry my load but to help me deliver it where it's supposed to go. These children are supposed to have an education to build their future. That's the only way I can discharge this cumbersome, light load.' She pats the bag.

'You do not look fit enough to carry the heavy bag,' he rudely comments on her panting which is from lack of exercise.

'Mr Rhineston...'

'Call me David...'

'MR RHINESTON anyone can feel or look attractive in a diamond dress but not anyone can be attractive in a diamond dress.'

'Vioolet, I am afraid I do not follow.'

She notices for the first time he drags her name in a pleasant way making it seem like the word is in motion. Before she can further process this and possible implications she focuses on the task at hand. First the children then her blooming. Debute as her mother refers to it.

'I don't look the most appropriate, I am the most suitable. Physically, I don't match the job description, however, mentally, I am the best.'

'I do agree, Violet, that you are an undisputable thinker but you cannot fault me for doubting your execution strategy.'

'My execution?' she answers promptly, in disbelief.

'Yes execution.'

'You call breaking into your penthouse, a lack of execution strategy. Mr Rhineston, I believe you mean incredible execution. I knew I wasn't going to get an appointment so I made one. Incredible strategy!'

'Smooth execution,' he amends grudgingly wondering how she came to be in his penthouse without his approval.

'Same way she budged into my office.'

Sensing his temper raising, he switches to his more patient, steady and calm self. There's an advantage to switching fast after all.

'You are going to have to do better than that if you are going to convince me to part with my money.'

'You are wrong on both counts.'

She adjusts the strips on her shoulders, noting the change in energy from charged to neutral.

'I don't have to convince you, Mr Rhineston, you gave your word. I'll make sure you hold it to the last full stop.'

She grins at him to nail her threat, then continues, 'Those children deserve a chance to become like you. Successful, I mean. Secondly, it's not parting with your money it's investing in the future of the human race. I don't believe you would miss the opportunity. These children are talented. They will succeed. Who will they mention in their success stories, who will they thank. As long as their gratitude lives, so will you. Believe me, they will pass it on to their great grandchildren."

He smiles involuntarily as she sets the golf bag down and drops herself into one of the high stools his designer scattered in his barely used kitchen.

'Flattering. How many children are they?'

'Seven. 5 females and two males. One disabled?'

'One million dollars to assist a few children?' Beryl eyes calmly clash with her eyes, challenging her. The complete change awes her. She admits, he's right too. Each personality needs different clothes. The biker attire does not match his calm collected self. A Peacoat and Chelsea boots would be fitting.

'Mr Rhineston, it's not about quantity but quality. Why should we help in halves?'

He nods satisfied with her answer. His school enrols a few boys for that reason. Something Mr. Mighty would not do, she muses, referring to his earlier personality.

'What is your criteria for choosing those people?'

'Fate.'

'Miss Ruvara,' he says politely, 'I will require you to elaborate.'

'I can only aid those who come to me or those who I know need help and will capitalize on my aid. Hence fate.'

'I do not understand,' he confesses. She decides this is her second favourite personality right after the Classic Man.

'It's along the lines of how we don't choose our parents or our circumstances.'

He raises his eyebrows chewing on her ideology. 'I will leave that for now. How are you going to divide the money?'

'Easy according to need.'

He grins and she feels him switch to the Classic man.

'I need a glass of wine right now,' he teases, ' Will I receive part of the money?'

She laughs as he stands up.

'How did you get in here?'

Amused, he looks at her over his shoulder as he blindly searches for wine glasses in his kitchen.

'The wine glasses are in the top left cupboard.'

He blinks at her. For the first time in his life, the itch to analyse the person in front of him and act in a way that'll let them know he's in control of his life is not present. He graciously does as bid with, no argument. He nosily sets the glasses in front of her surprised she already has the wine bottle beside her.

He manages to repeat, 'How did you enter.'

'I know a few people here. Now,' she sips her wine, 'Why did you not show up for your game. Mr. Ganges is not pleased.'

An understatement, or as she likes to think of it a summary, of the panic that gripped her followed by a scramble to decide which of his three houses he would spend the night. After that there was the gruesome task of outwitting technology. She entered a mere ten minutes before him. Swift, impromptu action is the reason she positioned herself on time. As for the wine glasses, she can feel the designers flow.

She playfully swirls the wine, her red finger nails wrapped around the spine of the glass.

'I know how to deal with him. After all, he's the one who gave me the advice to run when a female has something to discuss.'

'Coward.'

'Clever.'

She rolls her eyes and slides down from the stool.

'I thought you were staying the night?' he teases naturally taking her elbow to lead her to the door.

'Then I would be tempted to shoot you,' she confesses sheepishly smiling into his eyes.

He's eyes widen momentarily as he doesn't put it against her especially in her cute forest green wrap top and black jeans. How she planned to play in that he doesn't know, although he wouldn't have minded seeing her cute ass bent down.

His mind, ever attracted to red since the incident with his mother, remembers to ask about the nail polish. For him, it's out of character for her.

'Where did you get the red nail polish?'

'Vivian.'

'As if I know who she is.'

Violet blissfully studies her nails thinking of a happy memory. He watches her face soften. 'We had an impromptu sleep over last night and 18-year-old Vivian thought it cool and sexy to have red nail polish. It's some college fever, which I pray subdues before she actually sets foot at college.'

She stares at him with an 'I'll do anything' face which he involuntary wishes was for him. His mouth stretches into a playful curve, 'It does look sexy, Violet,' he whispers grabbing his jacket and throwing it over her top.

'I could not take my eyes off your shoes.'

'David!' she squeals to the delight of his ears as she swats his chest playfully, 'You're not exactly quietening my fear. At this rate I might be forced to lock her up.'

'David,' he repeats in her delicious voice, 'Note to self- be more honest often'

He feigns terror as he grips her warm fingers in his fingers, 'Then a prince will sweep her away. She will not learn to be sensible enough to know that the white armour is an illusion.'

The reply scraps some of her fear and adds on surprise at his insight. Classic man is, definitely, her favourite. Wait, when did he switch? Before she can answer herself he urgently sweeps her out the door and roughly shuts the door behind him, Violet feels like a wall suddenly grown in her face.

In one breath, David locks his door and leads her down the stairs, through the lobby and into the night air. When the cold air hits her, she gratefully closes the jacket he thoughtfully lent to her.

'Should I expect a goodbye kiss? Last time I did not receive one,' he complains as he leads the way despite not knowing where her car is or what it looks like. Surprising it's the blue Ford Ranger next to his Tesla.

'I am not in the habit of kissing strangers.'

He watches her graciously lower herself into her car, but before she can shut her door, he lowers his head and crushes her lips on hers whooping her breath away.

'It does not mean I cannot give you one,' he reasons tickling her neck with the soft words.

Violet firmly shoves his head with her shoulder instead of scooting away from him or spiting fire at being manhandled. He plants a hot kiss on her elegant neck then deliberately stepping back letting her know he moved because he wanted to.

'When should I expect your call?'

Quickly he replies, 'I have no intention of calling.'

'When do I expect the money?'

David doesn't answer her but moves to lean on the hood of her car casting her a sexy picture in his leather bike pants and muscle top. He completes the image by crossing his arms on his broad chest popping out his muscles. The various sports clothes in his walk-in wardrobe add up.

'I have not finished my assessment.'

'I thought so too,' she says dryly, 'I was merely giving you the chance to set a place and date.'

He turns his neck to face her, grinning. 'You possess a canning ability, Violet. Meet me on Wednesday at the third point of the Pentagram.'

The Pentagram. Her eyes widen until they are stone sized at the mention of the five-point star shaped sky scrapper famous as a symbol of the five intelligences. Namely emotional, naturalist, musical, logical-mathematical and bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.

'Are you trying to impress me?' she suspiciously asks. He remarked, almost praised her ability, now he's inviting her to the Pentagram where the masters of these different intelligences trained the best. David's not a master but he is next in line of the emotional intelligence point.

What had her sister told her about being personally invited to the Pentagram? It means you are in trouble. And why should she listen to Ivory?

His mouth crawls to one side. Watching the steady crawling she uses her ability to guess his intentions. A sharp laugh pierces the air before she states, 'If you are planning to intimidate me, Mr. Rhineston, you,' her eyes glaze over him, 'have another think coming.'

He rewards her with an easy grin that stops her heart in mid-beat. 'Violet, we are about to become acquainted. Until then I will wait for that kiss.'

He lazily peals himself from her car. Quickly, she scrambles to bang her door and lock it. Although he moves lighting fast, by the time he reaches her door there is only the echo of her the bang.

'Mr Rhineston,' she triumphantly shouts, 'I learn fast. I am already acquainted with your tendency to steal kisses.'

He glares at her in acceptance of her challenge.

Chapter 3-Pink Panther.

The glass doors of the elevator reveal people who, at each floor level, are more busier, less freer and more scared but hide it behind a practiced mask of confidence. The sun, Violet notes shines at different intensities at each floor. Or rather, it dwindles to a tiny hopeless flicker.

David's waiting for her on the 14th floor, obviously in his Alpha element, with his hands linked behind his back and face arranged seriously rain would evaporate before reaching him.

He doesn't speak.

Neither does she.

He glares at her.

She smiles, matching the trickle of sun streaming in through the window. Still not greeting Violet, David dismisses the girl who accompanied her and turns to lead the way. Deliberately, her heels echo steadily on the marble floor as she follows him until they reach an open area with an expensive Persian carpet and upholstered chairs. Between the chairs there is a wooden coffee table. He approaches the glass wall besides the chairs as her eyes skim the ruined painting discarded on the table.

Gosh!

Is this how it feels to give something you created with your own hands then have it thrown back at you like it's trash?

Is this how it feels to know you will never achieve your deepest desire?

Is this how it feels to know you will inevitably love a monster?

Violet silently closes her eyes to block the image of the black splashed on top of the Violets.

'To bloom is to give freely with no expectations. Give something freely. Freely created with your heart and mind together. Then you will bloom.'

Violet lets her mothers words wash her pain and despair.

Beauty certainly had it easy because she loved a monster who was human at heart. David, she concludes, is a monster inside a person. She cannot read his intentions because he blocked them from her leaving a hard shell. Fate must have been laughing at her, handing the last pierce of her initiation to David.

He won't break her that easily.

When her eyes flutter open, they meet beryl ones so close to her she can see the gleam of evident concern. He intensely searches inside her through her eyes. Transfixed mostly by his male scent and body heat, she lets him.

'Are you okay?' he breaths taking care, she notes, not to touch her despite his second skin closeness. Her brain registers his personalities have merged because the concern belongs to Mr Mighty while the question is from Classic man.

'You, didn't have to do that,' she spits breaking the eye contact but not steping back.

'It was mine to do as I please,' he replies harshly, the Alpha back as he straightens. Ruthless Alpha. At her disgust, he switches to Polite Peacoat, abandoning his plan to deal with her in quickly and painfully.

'Marylin Monroe. When did I start to care what she thinks of me?'

Two minutes ago he was ready to dry her tears when his plan was to cause them.

'Thank you for agreeing to meet me here,' she politely reminds him at the same time putting emotional distance between them.

He indicates for her to sit on either chair.

'It's for the children,' she dejectedly continues lowering her slim form, like a regal queen. He gracefully takes the chair opposite her looking unusual in his casual jeans and plain t-shirt. Somehow his Polite Peacoat version brings images of a Peacoat and Chelsea boots every time.

"Of course," he replies elevating his perfect bushy eyebrows at her pink wig which matches her black maxi dress and cute ankle heels.

"It's business Mr Rhineston.'

"You can call me David," he begins.

'I can. My choice," she rebuffs smiling pleasantly at him making him think of a sheep in wolf clothing.

He grins swallowing the thought of being her friend so he can hear his name from her rosy lips. Her insistence to call him Mr Rhineston would not have bothered him from someone else. In fact, he prefers it. Yet, from her it awakens the desire to hear his name.

"Of course. Let me guess,' he says smiling at her, 'Vivian made you wear that wig?"

She shakes her head a look of complete fondness dominating her face. 'It was Linda's birthday today, so we all had to dress up in pink. She's now twelve and still sadly and madly in love with pink.'

'Does she like teddy bears as well?'

Violet shoves her head back and yanks the wig off then brushes her pixie hair with her fingers. 'Human sized and fluffy, you bet.'

'What's your address so I can deliver it?'

The wig is promptly stuffed into her Chloe handbag and a pen and paper retrieved to jot down the address in a neat unassuming handwriting.

Handing the paper to him she advices, 'Don't bother wrapping it. How did you know she likes teddy bears.'

David scans the paper grinning to distract her. 'Its a niche that comes with the personalities.'

How come he never mentioned it? It so close to her gift, it must be why he is the last stage to her blooming. Violet senses his defensiveness and decides!to drop the matter for now.

After two minutes of contemplating silence, he frowns bringing Violet's attention from the view outside to him.'

"Violet, money does not buy happiness."

Her smile withers to become a sympathetic wobble. Not that it was there to begin with.

"Mr Rhineston money doesn't buy happiness,' she agrees, 'But only in theory. In theory F=ma, in real life it's less than this due to friction and air resistance."

"Violet," he interjects, "you can buy a bed but not sleep."

His beryl eyes challenge her to reply.

After only missing a heartbeat she replies, "True, Mr Rhineston, in theory. In real life you can get sleeping drugs, which you buy. Excuse me for asking, why all this, "money doesn't buy happiness" crap."

"I have seen the effects of money. Numerous other people have too. It is the subject of many books for example "The Summons". I take it you read the book by the way your face lit up. Two brothers are turned against each other."

"Mr Rhineston you only talk of one side,' with the wave of her hand she dismisses his point, 'They are two sides to a story, two sides to a coin and two sides to a book- the end and beginning. I want you to tell that child whose been chased out of school because they cannot pay five hundred dollars that money cannot buy happiness. I want you to tell a six-year-old child, who walks 10km to school that, "money can't buy happiness". Mr Rhineston, I challenge you to tell a mother in Zimbabwe who is appealing for only a thousand dollars so she can go to South Africa and get her child treated for cancer that, "money doesn't buy happiness". I want you, Mr Rhineston, to tell that 20-year-old girl waitressing part time that, "money doesn't buy happiness". It's all theory. In reality, our whole existence is governed by money whether we approve, disagree or want to be moral. You pay to give birth. You pay to celebrate a birthday. You PAY TO BE BURIED,' she deliberately pauses to let her words settle between them.

'Money gives you a chance at happiness. I said a chance. That's how money buys happiness."

"I hope, it buys you happiness!"

He utters this with a scary unrushed finality that results in her staring at him without blinking. Her thoughts scramble to tie loose ends despite the sense of doom looming over her. This is a tactic he uses to plant doubt in your mind by suddenly thrusting what you want upon you.

Without thinking it through she leans forward and hisses, 'It certainly will.'

Rage grips her then.

'If you think you can wiggle yourself from paying that one million, you don't know me. I'll steal it from you, if I must. Right now,' she raises a finger and he can't help but admire it, 'I'm giving you seven days to sort yourself out.'

He stands up suddenly, his broad chest heaving in disbelief. 'Is that a threat?'

She raises too, unintimidated by his masculinity or the rage radiating from him and looks straight into his fiery eyes before warning him in a deep growl, 'It's not empty either.'

She forcefully clutches her hand bag without breaking eye contact with him. 'Linda would appreciate the teddy bear if you have the guts to buy one and deliver it.'

He instinctively steps forward to stop her, when he realizes she stormed in the direction of the lady's room.

'A bulldozer does not retreat,' he muses sitting, 'It reverses so it can apply more force.'

As she floats to him, five minutes later, with her maxi dress flowing around her he wonders if she'll offer a downright apology or an explanation.

'Bulldozers do not build, they create roads to certain ideologies.'

'You're always in your own world. I wonder what I feature as,' she friendly observes dropping into the chair.

'Changing Chameleon. One moment, she's fiercely threatening me. At the speed of light, she is friendly once more. She does not hold on to emotions for long.'

'Good grief, David,' she shouts as he re-enters his world once more, 'It is a rhetorical question so do not contemplate whether to tell me or not.'

His eyes widen at her accuracy. 'How do you know when I am day dreaming?' he demands.

Instead of answering, she reaches for the samosas in front of him. He must have ordered them in her absence. Strong fingers roughly grab her wrist when the silence stretches for too long.

'Tell me,' he growls.

Bruised and shocked at the speed of the shift, despite the fact he blocked her she lifts her eyes to meet his impatient ones.

'Did you just switch personalities?' Fascination laces her voice, highlighting what he has done. His fingers caress her faint bruises as he regains control.

'Violet, I am sorry.'

He intends to leave it at that but the curious sparkle in her eyes spurs him on.

'Personality is merely how we chose to show character, so yes I did momentarily switch personalities.'

He lets go of her wrists and guiltily watches as she rubs them.

'I didn't understand anything you said,' she confesses captivated by the concept but finding it complex.

'You're not the only one.'

He throws her a heart stopping smile which touches his eyes. 'You are the first to confess. For example, if people are standing in a que, they have different ways of showing impatience. Some stomp their feet, other's grumble, some demand to be served first and some leave. It's a personal way of showing character.'

The admiration in her eyes warms his heart such that he softly asks, 'Did you understand.'

'If I understood correctly, because we can have different understandings, you said personality is a way of showing character. I love how you transformed a disorder into a talent. Vivian was ecstatic when she saw how you aided her nerd friend, James. Why do you only help boys?'

For the first time, since his scared mother dumped him at the psychiatrist, he feels impelled to tell the truth so he does, 'I do not want to talk about it.'

'Marylin Monroe, I'm in trouble.'

'So, there is a story. I thought you were going to say, 'That's what I want' or some bullshit about the superiority of men.'

David laughs at her accuracy, 'That is what I was going to say. You draw honesty from the deepest of souls.'

With this confession is the realization that he's a dead man if I don't leave town quickly. She's drawing me in.

'It is time for my goodbye kiss.'

Only when the words leave him, does David admit it's what compelled him to call her. The challenge to hear his name from her lips and a goodbye kiss that'll end the madness to have her. Plus, the painting was driving him crazy.

He's used to giving gifts on impulse but he's never received on or had thrust upon him. To worsen it, its a painting of flowers that remind him of his mother.

'Outside,' she tells him intending to prolong their meeting at the same time being on neutral ground. He can't ruin her painting and expect to get away easily.

***

Once outside, Davod positions his fingers on her back to protect her from the howling icy wind that greets them. The move is so natural and intimate she leans into his heat, although he's not wearing a jacket.

'Where're you going after this?' she asks curiously as he leads her in the wrong direction. He's leading her in the direction she came from assuming that's where she parked her car. Violet doesn't correct him taking the time to tie his personalities into knots hoping he'll lose control for a few hours. As a man who loves being in control all the time, it will drive him insane. Mentally.

'A sponsored walk for children with cancer. Before I race, I have to meet with Charlie so he can make sure I talk to my sister's teacher. Matchmaker Crystal thinks her teacher is the one.'

'You're not honest to children too?' she exaggeratedly asks laughing. He shrugs at her comment. Honesty is rewarded with criticism and manipulation why bother?

Irritated that he's wasting time on the wrong person Violet bursts, 'Do you believe she's the one?'

'Crystal is untrained. Right now, all she has is a description, so I do not think so.' He tags her closer as a gust of wind approaches. 'Star believes it is you. That is why he let you enter my office.'

'Why did I tell her that?' David blames it on the delectable lavender scent as it assaults his noise.

'Here, I thought it was my wit,' she comments dryly. 'What do you think?'

'Crystal will like you.'

She pouts then clarifies, 'I mean about me being the one.'

Violet wraps a hand around his midsection for better balance and better chances of evading his wall without him noticing.

Arrogantly he replies, 'I would know when I meet the one.'

The ends of VIolet's mouth stretch to a sly arc. Momentarily, his muscles contract such that she feels the lie.

'WOW! You even lie to yourself!' Softly she advices, 'Be honest to yourself at least.'

Her head rests on his shoulder. Her eyelids lower. Then she feels his armas supporting her so she doesn't fall as the she successfully ties his personalities.

'You're heading in the wrong direction,' she weakly whispers.

'Why did you not tell me?' he rumbles.

Violet can't tell if he's annoyed or upset. She mocks, 'I thought you would know.'

He roughly tags her into a shop that turns out to be a hardware store. Inside the warmth of the shop, he releases her like she's freezing ice. She stumbles at the unexpected movement, but recovers quickly adopting a fighting stance with her legs apart. David lower's his eyes studying her 'I am ready for war' stance.

'Obviously, you are upset.'

Violet rolls her eyes at his assertive statement. As if he can feel the despair and the sorrow she's hiding in her heart chambers? 'What am l upset about. Obviously.'

'Do not tempt my temper,' he roars stepping forward swallowing the distance between them as easily as he created it.

Violet fights the urge to step back and casts her eyes to the ceiling in a flamboyant display of disbelief. 'Why are you still with me. I can show myself to my car.'

Although he mentally counts to ten, she can hear his temper in the ringing silence of the empty hardware.

No warning. No goodbye. He jogs out.

'Run,' she screams punching at his retreating back to mask her relief. He was already showing signs of her handiwork. Like what he did to her art, it is was not pretty.

***

Chapter 4- Beautiful in white.

'Madness has surely gripped me,' David tells himself two weeks later as he strides along the red path decorated with a stream of artificial flowers on one side and natural ones on the other. The breezy music mingles with gay chatter of which he hears none as he seeks Violet among the well-dressed occupants of the garden who are there both for business and pleasure. He's here sorely for pleasure.

'Business,' he corrects himself. 'I'm here to confess I don't have the money then I'll leave. Before I seek revenge for what she did.'

How one family, it puzzles him, can deal with flowers of two opposing natures and still be close as water molecules. Violet's father grew natural flowers while his brother, Edward's father, manufactured artificial flowers. Their children, Violet, Ivory, Alouis and Edward share a strong bond, which might stop her from seeing me as anything more than a money bank.

'What do I care?' he breathes furious with himself.

As soon as his beryl eyes land on her, in Edwards arms, his legs march to her with the intention telling her his predicament then swiftly excusing himself. In her white off-shoulder peplum dress she radiates happiness that causes her face to glow like the fairy lights lighting the garden together with the full moon.

'Mr. Rhineston,' she calls in delight before he reaches her, 'Charlie warned me of your delightful attendance. After he stunned my father into letting you attend.' Admiration is evident on her voice, he wishes it was for him. After all, he is the one taught the boy to utilize his charm.

'You must pay that boy a fortune,' she continues drinking in his black Henley's shirt and tailored tuxedo pants.

'I believe he has to pay me a fortune, Violet. I helped him find his tongue. When he came to me, he believed he had nothing worthwhile to say. It was also my brilliant idea to invite myself.'

She rolls her eyes at his self-praise stepping towards him like an object gravitating toward the earth. Edward lets her go sorely because she'll be off his case for not telling Eric's mother about David. However, he scowls, at David in warning.

'The theme's parallels,' Violet explains settling into David's arms naturally, 'you'll sit next to Ivory. Who sells flowers for every occasion.'

'Because I do not use flowers for any occasion,' he finishes for her staring down at her, his hungry gaze sliding to her lush lips. He gently tips her chin as everything around them fades.

David doesn't pull her to him but brings his mouth slowly to hers. Violet wraps her hands around his neck surrounding him with the sweet scent of violets in summer. Her mouth's open, ready for him. His tongue is ready to claim her. Abruptly, she's snatched violently from his hold, he moans from the loose. So sudden.

'Ivory's waiting to be introduced,' Edward announces cloaking his amusement in politeness although his fingers form a fist besides him. He grips Violet's bare arm gently, applying pressure to subdue her.

'You didn't need to ruin a perfect kiss for that,' Violet crossly protests refusing to be involved in his game. She avenged herself for the ruined painting, healing her scared heart. Foolishly she mentioned it to Edward who is grabbing the opportunity to punch David for his terms on teaching Eric.

At her words David gazes at her now swollen mouth. Unwillingly, he focuses on Ivory who is patiently counting the stairs whilst poised, hand on a curvy hip, behind Edward. Violet intercepts his move to challenge Edward, diplomatically dangling on to his arm.

'Killing each other is a coward way out.' The words are for the two men who are mentally punching the other. Not waiting for a reply, she pulls David to the side, Edwards forced to turn so he faces Ivory.

'I told you he was handsome,' Violet affirms still hanging onto David's arm.

'Oh, I can see that,' Ivory, who David judges to be two years older than Violet, confirms giving him an open once over. Understanding hits him. Violet's staking her claim, marking her territory.

'No wonder women protest when men do it.'

David, ignoring Edward's death warning, proudly sneaks an arm around Violet 's bare shoulder and pulls her closer to him.

'I am glad to meet you, Ivory. I heard you are my partner for the evening.'

'I am,' she curtly confirms extending a hand for an all business handshake, all business like now.

Violet slips from his possessive grasp, plants 'a behave yourself' kiss on his cheek and dances away with Edward.

True to her name, Ivory's dressed in a ground sweeping ivory dress with a slit that exposes a beautiful leg in strap heels. Ivory tusks tangle by her high cheeks. The two women share a communicative look before Edward pulls Violet away from their sight.

'Handsome's an understatement,' Ivory tells him in a friendly voice she probably used on customers as he leads her to a table before answering, 'Is that so.'

'Yes. Stop following her with your eyes.'

He pulls a chair for her. 'Since we are being honest, I invited myself for this.'

Ivory chuckles sitting. 'I thought you don't like flowers.'

For her wit, he rewards her with his devilish smile which has her swooning, unintentionally. She prides herself in controlling herself but when a handsome man smiles at you like that, its hard to retain control.

'I thought I was losing my touch.'

He bitterly remembers Violet's lack of response.

'She's in tune with everyone,' Ivory states managing to discuss two topics at once, 'A flower for every occasion.'

David easily divides his attention into two unequal parts. His eyes trace Violet's movements as she warmly greets her father's successor, laughs with a couple and orders the servants in low undertones, calling each one by name. Cain the elderly valet, the pretty waitress Dorothy and several other people scuttling about the garden fixing this and that at her instruction. His ears he willing gives to Ivory who continues to speak in ambiguous statements.

'You're not listening to me,' his companion sulks when he doesn't respond as she desires to her statement.

'I've been given the wrong woman,' he defends himself gawking at the woman he wants. 'You're her body guard.'

'What gave me away?' she asks not pretending to deny it. Neither does she confirm it. Vague is what she aims to be, he decides as she thinks of the gun in her clutch bag which lies on the table between them. If need be, she'll use it in a lighting flash together with the sleeping drug in her ring. Most people knew her as Violet's older sister. She is. Right after being a personal body guard. It started off as a duty, however, Violet has a way of inspiring loyalty.

He takes his time to answer, 'I cannot put it into words. You were trained at the bodily-kinesthetic intelligence Point.'

He's never ventured into that point of the Star before sticking to his point the emotional intelligence point.

'I'm so disappointed,' she sighs not bothering to confirm the last statement since he stated it, 'It took you time to recognize me. Violet said you recognized her almost instantly.'

'I am not myself. I am losing sleep thinking about her,' he deliberately admits, banking on the fact that Ivory will repeat this.

'Excuses, excuses and...'

Abruptly, he rises, unconsciously gives Ivory, whose reached for her clutch or rather the gun in it, a partying nod. She lets him go.

The man on a mission look warns her. Plus, he's a man whose accepted he's in love, had admitted it numerous times during the short course of their acquaintance. Problem, a very huge problem, is he has no idea what to do. Pushing her away didn't work. Literally.

He flexes his muscles remembering how she tied his personalities resulting in a savage fight for control. The two hours of re-aligning his centre had left him exhausted.

Lesson learnt, Violet is a bulldozer to be crossed when you have a death wish. She doesn't whine or talk about it. She acts. Fast.

Single-minded, David follows the disappearing figure managing to catch her waist before she mounts the grand stairs. She squeals as strong arms tag her to a hard chest, interrupting her sing-a- long to the classic song the DJ's playing. Her backs pressed to his front, yet she knows David who holds her.

'David!' she pleads half-heartedly, 'I have to help Matthew.'

'You have not introduced me to your parents,' he accuses then demands, 'Why?'

She rolls her eyes and sympathetically coos, 'You must be used to being introduced to your business colleagues' parents, it is a blow to your ego.'

'You have no right to talk about ego,' he growls, 'You hurt me just because I ruined a present you thrust upon me. What did you expect?'

The full implications of what she'd done crashes on her like a meteorite. She could have hurt him.

'Oh, David!' she cries trying to turn to face him. He easily holds her in place so she can't see his face. 'I'm sorry.'

She means it but he's not letting her off the hook that easily.

'It almost kept me hospital for a week,' he informs her coolly, although at that at the time he felt like the world had been whooshed from beneath him. Maybe it's because he omitted it was a mental hospital and his psychiatrist, he can't think of her as a shrink, wanted to monitor him.

'David,' she pleads thinking of a lie, 'Please accept my apology. It was my first time giving something I created with me hand and heart. I usually buy gifts.'

He squeezes her, resting his chin on her prickly hair feeling special and idiotic for destroying a special gift.

'It unnerved me,' he confesses before reverting to his earlier question, 'Why have you not introduced me to your parents.'

'I always avoid that question,' she dryly tells him. Heavens knows how many times the media had asked her about it. 'But I know you won't stop nagging me. What is your favourite food?'

'This better not be a diversion,' he says then chuckles. 'I love biscuits.'

'Are you serious! I thought you were a meat person.'

'The samosa where for you. Now back to the current question.'

She laughs then casts her eyes heaven wards. 'You are persistent you could be on death bed and hold on to your last breath until someone answers your question.'

'Violet?' he warns in a rumble.

'Okay, picture Crystal has placed all these biscuits in front of you, from all over the world. She asks you to tell her your favourite. You'll complain about the nasty ones, throw away some without even tasting them until you have the one to present to her.

He contemplates, rather seriously on her comparison.

'You want to introduce the best to you parents.' He talks slowly trying to understand the idea. Trying to understand her.

Sensing this, her heart bubbles with love for the man behind her.

'You didn't need to use biscuits,' David points out.

VIolet confesses, 'No. I wanted to learn something about you. David, when you give, you seem to hold something back. I took the opportunity to receive the whole thing.'

Surprised, at her accuracy he shifts to Mighty Man who's good at explaining. Violet senses it but doesn't question it because she was stating not asking. Quickly, thinking better of it he shifts again.

'Why do you date many men?' David demands teasingly.

Classic man. Violet decides pinpointing his personality with creepy accuracy. Pea Coat would have said nothing, Mighty Man would have pointed out the reason, Alpha would tell her what's wrong with dating many men and his fifth?

What's his fifth personality? Violet tries to remember. Even now she can't feel his fifth personality. Before she can ask, David pulls her into the coat room. Violet quickly reacts and turns to face him, shifting their positions.

'Shh..' he warns placing a finger on his lips.

Footsteps, that VIolet knows belong to her dad, pass by their earlier position. After they recede Violet demands, 'What is this? The 18th century?'

'No,' David smiles whilst saying the word. 'You didn't want to introduce me to your dad. Did you?'

Two seconds is all it takes Violet to recover from his display of sensitivity and considerations as she firee her next question, 'How did you know? That my dad was coming?'

She fixes him with a you better answer stare.

David stares back accusingly. 'You haven't answered my question.'

Faking disinterest, Violet shrugs, 'I was searching for the right person.'

David raises his eyebrows.Because she lied, Violet defensively barks, 'What?'

Truth is she searched for power or completion of her power. Now she's found it, she's not sure if it's the only thing she searched for.

'You used the word was?' David points out.

'I stopped searching recently,' not a lie or the whole truth but it will have to do. 'Now that I have answered your question, answer mine.'

'It's instinct,' David replies cleverly employing her method.

Violet narrows her eyes, changing tactic and praying he doesn't shift personalities. She's noticed he doesn't like to do so, even if he can shift faster in her presence.

'What are your favourite biscuits?'

Unanticipated and tingling laughter rumbles from David cloaking Violet.

'I don't have favourites. It's not always about having the best, Violet.'

Violet reaches for his collar to feel his heartbeat whilst changing the angle of his tie. Two heart beats is all he allows before he enfolds her fingers in his and pulls them away from him. She immediately understands he prefers to touch her not being touched by her.

Violet raises her eyelashes to meet his watchful gaze that's always on her. Tentatively she steps forward, taking advantage of the fact he's still holding her fingers.

'It is. Preference is about individual best,' she whispers but doen't argue. 'Do your five personalities like the same biscuits?'

'They rarely agree on anything except,' he stops then smiles changing his mind. 'That's why I don't like shifting. I end up contradicting myself.'

Violet's still stuck on the except so she loudly prompts him, 'What's the one thing you wholeheartedly agree on?'

'You are a bulldozer. You crash yourself into people's lives and do exactly what they need.'

It's a compliment. Violet recognizes it for what it is. 'Thank you but the thing you agree on?'

David uses his free hand to cup her neck. 'You are a beautiful, breathtaking, bulldozer.'

Her pupils dilate to the size of a ring. 'That's what you agree on?'

In reply, David slowly stretches his mouth then crushes her lips with his. She's never felt this beautiful. This beauty David's given her is beyond the physical.

She absorbs the kiss, sinking into it the way a container fills with water then slowly submerges to the bottom.

'Here,' David's hoarse voice forces her to re-emerge. Holding on for one more millisecond, she blissfully closes her eyes.

From his trousers' pocket he produces two tiny boxes which he places in front of her. 'One is for Vivian so she can remember the lessons and values you taught her. The other, is for you so you do not feel you have lost her.'

He thoughtfully chose the gifts himself, she can tell from the loving way he drops the boxes into her palm. Grateful but speechless, she leans into him, in a silent thank you. One arm holds her steady as the other strokes her neck. His beryl eyes, as always, study her.

'How come you are wearing two different earrings?'

'BJ and CJ couldn't agree on which ones I should wear. To avoid a fight, bloody ankles and hurtful words, I offered to wear one of each. They're 'twins' because they were born on the same day from different parents in the same place.' Her voice is laced with amusement.

'Tell me about them,' he prompts to prolong their meeting. 'They chose well. The studs accentuate her square jaw and short hair. The chandeliers compliment her graceful neck.'

David hides his face in the shadows of dark light in the cloak room. Violet wishes she can see his face but he won't let her as if he's afraid she might see something there. She automatically tunes herself to his aura reaching for any gaps or abnormalities. There's silence and dullness.

Unbelievable.

Violet almost jumps in surprise because he's improving at blocking her. Not only that. He's managed to create a fake aura. Recovering rapidly, she smoothly answers his question.

'BJ although discouraged by his asthma, is determined to be a hockey professional player. Dyslexic, BJ is an inspirational speaker in the making and persistent it's a pain in the ass.'

He connects their checks swaying them to the music outside. For five minutes they merge with the music, blending to be part of it. Violet believes David slows down time so that you feel every second.

In her ear he whispers, 'The disorders do not describe them. Are they both boys?

She closes her eyes as if to picture them. He's right. The disorders don't sum them up. 'BJ is a boy. CJ is a tomboy you can't tell her apart from the boys.'

She suddenly clutches the hand at her waist. Softly she requests, 'Can they call you. To thank you.'

'They can.'

'I do not have to answer. I will let Charlie deal with their disappointment especially when I tell her I don't have the money because I already donated it to another cause.'

'Will you answer?' she probes sensing his deceit.

Smartly, he points out, 'How am I supposed to know? I cannot tell the future.'

'Try to answer or we will visit without warning.' Her voice holds remnants of teasing but her tone is serious.

'I will take those to your room,' he offers instead of reacting to her threat or teasing.

'It's the room on the right,' she directs already scurrying away to help Matthew with whatever.

He easily finds it. Not because of her vague directions, he already knew where it was. In the moonlit darkness he cautiously, places the boxes on her dressing table, picks up her heart shaped perfume bottle and pockets it. In its place, he leaves his jacket hanging neatly on the chair.

Done.

He leaves the room. The party. The country.

***

Chapter 5- Yellow.

'Thank you, Mariah,' he hears Violet's unmistakable voice as he enters the white Beach house in nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower section. It's too late to retract his steps, so he saunters in with a confident gait.

Mariah scurries out of the room before her employer can reprimand her for welcoming Violet when he emphasized no one was to be welcomed into the house during his stay. No stray teenagers. As it is her usual habit to bring a teenage boys to him. No women. Pretty. Beautiful. Attractive. Or even all three in the case of Violet. This instruction he had hammered into Joshua, Crystal's partner.

'Thought I had.'

'They do not lie to children,' he drawls lazily, liking how she sitting with her legs folded underneath her on to the orange camel backed sofa, 'dreams do come true.'

Violet doesn't answer him for five whole minutes so that the room fills with the sound of waves swashing and sloshing up and down the beach. Her gaze is fixed outside, too. Not that she didn't notice his eight pack or muscled arms. A breeze enters through the glass door and entices her to join it outside. Violet wants to. She tells it so by leaning forward and closing her eyes.

Seconds later she yanks hem open as her hat is roughly yanked from her head. He should have left it there, David realizes, as the sophisticated brim covered her eyes and her disappointment.

'What happened?' he asks the object of his dreams as he crouches in front of her, concerned. Her eyelashes slowly rise to looks up at him exposing hardened pupils.

'I don't believe it's true, Mr. Rhineston.'

It's not disbelief he sees on her face but confidence and self-assurance. Neither had she spoken defensively. No. Her voice held warning making him remember the threat in the café.

'It's not empty,' David observes stepping back until he drops into a grey cushioned chair. It's his turn to answer with silence that stretches like a balloon being filled with air until it pops.

It's Violet who bursts the silence with a sharp needle.

'I don't believe you thought you could trick me using the oldest trick in the book. I'm offended,' she spits. 'I've friends in high places, Mr. Rhineston.' He winces from the sharpness in her voice when she says his name.

Narrowing his eyes until they're thin slits then challenges, 'What did they claim to have discovered?'

It's also the oldest trick in the book to be vague or imply you know something. Your victim, riddled with guilt or worry will confess information you didn't even know.

'The people you claim to have assisted, didn't set foot near you.'

Violet reaches for the thick stark of papers on the coffee table in front of her.

'Henry Henert, from Cincinnati, died at age six from a measles outbreak in 1999. Donald D. Fgert, is 100 years old and leaves with his family in the valleys of Bangladesh. Maria-Antony, a Nigerian transgender, from female to male, committed suicide last year. Joshua Jamal is two today.'

She slaps the papers shut , her chin raised in triumph.

'Accurate.'

Praise and appreciation tint his voice.

'However,' dragged until the word circles in her head, 'Vioolet, you forgot to answer one important question. Why I am withholding the money?'

'Because you're a stingy, egotistic and hard-hearted person.'

Hardened beryl pupils clash with her violet ones.

'That is your flaw. Assumption with blinkers branching into unwillingness to yield.'

In short, and minus his floweriness, she didn't consider the bigger picture or the different factors. When she budged into his office to listen to their meeting, she hadn't considered that he could handle Edward or that at some point she isn't going to be present. The advantage of this flaw, is it enables her to act instead of being weighed down by analysis.

Recognition of this flaw sips into her eyes such that she blinks haphazardly. David runs his fingers through his mass of black hair.

'For the first elven years of my life, I lived with my wealthy mother. She is the reason I developed multiple personalities. She was a perfectionist who viewed the world in a certain way. Defying her, sharing my opinion or reacting differently is unacceptable. For her there was no other way, except her way. To deal with her expectations I changed personalities at the rate some change clothes.'

'One day, I read about how imperfect can be I'm perfect. Similar to a roaring engine life pulsed through me.'

The ends of his mouth curve in a smile that is reflected in the starry twinkle in his eyes.

'I bought a coffin, with staggering efficiency, and ordered the gardener to dig a hole, six feet in depth then invited my mother for a walk. 'Mom,' I told her, 'the son you want, is dead. There is only me.'

Violet, completely reverted, stands up to sit on his lap when he pauses.

'What happened?' she urges in a low expectant whisper.

'In less than an hour I was dumped at my dad's workplace. At the site of the Maison, my little heart started to tick.'

Transfixed, she places her palm on his heart as if to hear it ticking. Engrossed in her task she bows her head. David admires the short curls wondering if he wears the same look of concentration when thinking.

'David,' she cries, 'you haven't answered the question.'

He shrugs, 'You have not asked.'

'What is your reason for retaining the money?'

'Mom, left that money to her dead son. It is not mine to give.'

'Then why pretend to give it away?'

'It is for my students who believe they will not survive without money. It does not buy them time or a second chance to live their dreams.'

She wants to argue that it does create a difference when he she feels him smile before he continues, 'Why not give it away for real. I will not support a cause I do not totally believe in. I help in other ways, by assisting to mould a better person whose able to function in society without feeling inferior or irrelevant. Charlie and Star are a product of that.'

'You're helping Charlie?' her head snaps up to search his eyes for any hint of teasing.

He chuckles so that his chest rumbles, 'Do you think he is paying me to keep up with him. He is insecure the only way to spur him into performing an action is to order him. Unfortunately, that is not what I want for him. He is created for better.'

His sincerity resonates in the air adding a sweet taste to it when Violet breathes it. She can't tell to which of his personalities his integrity belongs to or his complete devotion to his pupils. However, this might be a trick.

Softly she points out, 'If you value integrity you will honour your word. Otherwise you are a hypocrite.'

'Violet, you realize that either way I am a hypocrite,' he argue near laughter.

Violet catches on fast. If he gives her money for a cause he doesn't believe in he fortifies his belief. Same way if he doesn't honour his word.

'You can help me with someone?' she requests.

Decision pending, he questions her, 'Who?'

'He calls himself Mercedes 'she starts as it clicks he will be giving her more than money, 'I don't know much except he's 18 and male. He's lived with us for five months now. '

He laughs unexpectedly before teasing, 'Your connections could not find anything on an 18-year-old boy.'

Serious she replies, 'I didn't request a search into his background. David, I'm scared he's some murder and they'll jail him without understanding him.'

He halts. 'You might be living with a murderer?' each word is asked separately it pokes her skin. Rage or disbelief. She can't tell.

'I will come.'

She holds her breath. 'When?'

'When you see me,' he tells her intentionally irritating her. She retaliates by wiggling in his lap to arouse him more. He steadies her by applying pressure to her waist.

'Violet, there's only one bed,' he warns, 'If you continue you will not sleep until I make love to you.'

'Oh,' she triumphantly letting him know, 'I am sleeping with Mariah. Joshua agreed to move another bed into her room.' Having announced this, she slips from his grip, letting him know he held her because she allowed it.

She yawns, stretching in her royal blue caftan. There're two routes to David's beach house. One involves noisy helicopters and his permission. The other, is by cannoning down the stream locals refer to as River Savel. Its noiseless, however, it's exhausting and dangerous. She spreads herself on the sofa.

'She's sleeping in my arms.'

Leisurely he curiously asks, 'Who gave you the ugly hat?'

'Mercedes,' she yawns widely. Her fingers draw small circles by her temple. Worried about the boy, now that he's reminded her, she spills, 'He doesn't talk at all when you are present. The moment you leave he calls every minute. How do you always know when someone gave me something?'

'The same way you know Vivian, Linda, BJ, CJ and Mercedes.'

'That's not an answer,' she tiredly protests struggling to sit up.

'Hush,' he soothes her brushing her short hair as he kneels besides her. She complies, closing her eyes and slipping into sleep.

Triumphantly, he stoops to carry her princess style to his bedroom.

***

When he wakes up at midnight, to check on her, she's not in his arms. He hears her in the kitchen, signing, as he lazily pulls a t-shirt on in the moonlight. Leaning on the door, he watches her hips wiggle in her knee length caftan until she feels his hungry gaze and wrings her long neck to glare at him.

'Hi,' he whispers hoarsely stepping towards her.

'Hi, you were holding me so tightly, I felt hot.'

He merely smiles, rotating her so she faces him, then brushes his lips over her soft ones.

He tastes them whilst observing her eyes. 'We do not have red wine?' he demands.

'I know. I brought my own. What did I say before I slept.'

'Hmmm,' he mumbles tagging her to him.

'David!' she protests placing a hand on his chest.

'I want my kiss,' he murmurs on her neck.

Trying not to be distracted she steps back, hand still on his chest.

'David, I feel like you told me part of a story of stories.'

He rewards her with a beautiful grin, she swoons.

'You mean, there are lots of stories and I told you only part of one.'

'Exactly. I think you are hiding the man you are.'

'I told you the relevant parts. Besides,' he gazes into her eyes trying not to think of kissing and holding her, 'I buried that part of me.'

She casts her eyes heaven ward, stepping forward. 'The dead tell no tales but their stories are told by those who survive. I want to hear yours. It's important.'

'Irrelevant,' he hoarsely whispers

'David,' her voice is so low a dropping pin is easier to hear, 'I want to know the man I have fallen in love with.'

Her fingers sneak into his hair. He roughly grips her wrists. She tiptoes and connects their lips.

'You don't have to answer.'

He chuckles. 'Not yet. Give me a proper chance to answer.'

Her hearts skipping she's sure it's going to prance out of her mouth. 'Are... you asking me to be your Girlfriend?'

He confirms, 'I am asking to be your boyfriend.'

Chapter 6- Black.

Charlie, in a red plaid shirt that matches his red hair, descends first from the passenger side of the black Tesla. He smiles at the females on the veranda of the colonial style double story one of which is Violet. She races to into his arms.

'Charlie,' she cries stepping back to study him. He sheepishly appreciates her royal blue kimono.

'You look like a breathe of fresh air,' he tells her.

She takes his hand by the wrist countering, 'You're a breath of fresh air.'

Refusing to be outdone by his student, David roughly grabs her waist, rotating her and crushing his lips to hers.

'Don't ignore me,' he barks in her ear.

Diplomatically, she places a firm hand on his ribs, leisurely counting them with her feathery fingers. 'I didn't ignore you. You, thoroughly surprised me.'

She infuses pleasure into her voice, such that David realises her gradually. His eyes study the two girls watching, entertained, on the veranda. Vivian, tall like a tree and as straight, coolly stands in a white pleated skirt on top of ebony skin tights. These match her Chelsea boots, black tank top and chin length black bob.

Sassy, it screams together with her red nail polish.

Curvy Linda poises gracefully in a simple floral fit and flare dress accompanied by sky blue wedges. She speaks of elegance and decorum with her straw-coloured tight bun and intelligent eyes. David swallows all this in one swift study of the two girls, as he follows Charlie and Violet.

Vivian, practices her charm by stepping forward for a hug. Charlie complies readily. Behind them, Linda rolls her eyes like a Ferris wheel, in disapproval.

'Thank you for the teddy bear,' Linda politely says to David in way of greeting.

'You are welcome,' he chimes unexpectedly pulling her into his arms, realising her hair so it tumbles down to her shoulders.

'Relax,' he coaxes reading the panic in her eyes. She controls her environment by controlling herself.

To calm her, he strategically inquires, 'Where are BJ and CJ?'

Her eyes light up immediately, 'Hockey practice. They eat, and sleep hockey,' after a brief contemplative pause, she adds, 'and pranks.'

Feeling her relaxing, he dares silently laugh at her solemn expression. 'I hope you'll be laughing when they dye your clothes brown,' she spits.

He stops vibrating with laughter long enough to say, 'I know how to even scores. Charlie remove your hands from the lady's ass.'

Violet who'd gone inside floats outside minus Mercedes. In silence she plops herself into a chair.

'Go talk to Mercedes,' Linda suggests to David, recognizing the signs of frustration. He jerks his head towards Charlie and Vivian in a silent communication for her to watch them.

David saunters into a cosy family room filled with natural light entering from three windows on three different walls. The forth wall has two wooden doors. One leads to an expensively furnished kitchen where David hears pots and pans signing their chorus. The other door leads him to a corridor which has a bathroom and stairs along it. Mercedes is leaning on the rails of the stairs.

'You should come to greet visitors.'

'Why?'

'To protect the ones, you love.'

Mercedes shrugs amused, 'I don't hold intruders dear.'

The meaning is not lost on David who bursts into loud uncontained laughter, walking closer to the boy. Glad he wore his marron top and black Levi jeans he agrees, 'They are a force to be reckoned with. Come meet Charlie before they devour him.'

He doesn't give Mercedes a chance to decline, he wraps a firm hand around the boy's shoulders forcing him to move with him.

'Witty, but reserved,' David reports to himself, 'Complete change of wardrobe.'

The hoodie and jeans are not a once-off, they are for blending in the environment, to ward off unnecessary attention.

'An introvert.'

As soon as they step outside into an insistent breeze that rubs your face, David enthusiastically announces, 'Charlie meet Mercedes, Linda and Vivian.' The latter two have seated themselves on a loveseat while Charlie leans on the rail.

Mercedes nods in acknowledgement and swiftly descends to study the car. He whistles in appreciation meeting David's eyes for the first time. David's steel beryl pupils roam over the boy's form as he jiggles the keys in his hands, weighing the pro and cons.

'You can take her for a ride with Charlie.' He thrusts the keys at Charlie who catches them in a fluid motion then scrambles to the car. Mercedes is already seated at the driver's seat, holding out a hand for the keys.

'He knows his mind.'

David turns, catching horrified looks of terror on the female faces. David dismisses their concern about Mercedes' lack of driver's licence, 'He can drive.'

He carelessly leans on the rail. 'There's nothing wrong with him,' he explains. 'He prefers quieter methods to deal with problems.'

'You mean we have to read his silence like you just did? Linda is astonished by the idea of such a cumbersome task.

'You have to compromise.'

'What about him?' Linda whines.

Patiently he replies, 'Believe me, living with you is a compromise. He can live by himself in the mountains and not regret it.'

Linda huffs a breath, obviously the one most close to Mercedes, therefore, the most concerned.

David strides to a chair and lazily drops into it, his eyes focus on each of the women; Linda and Vivian fighting physically over whether to swing the loveseat or keep it still. Violet opposite him on the other side of the one-legged round table.

'What annoys you the most about Mercedes?'

'He locks his door,' Vivian hisses first, managing to swing the seat.

Violet clenches her teeth. 'He can't shut up during a movie.'

Linda speaks last. Slowly. 'He doesn't like eating alone so he finds someone to be in his company. What annoys me, is he doesn't speak. You can touch the silence.'

David deliberately borrows a leaf from Mercedes, stretching the silence so they can reflect. It's always a difficult task to tell an outgoing parent their child is an introvert. Worse, is explaining to an introvert parent their child is normal just lively. Its more difficult to the former to swallow the reality.

'He loves you more than anything.'

Jokingly serious Linda corrects him, 'More than cars.'

'More than cars,' he confirms the ends of his mouth curving.

A quick study tells him, Violet and Linda are the most affected by Mercedes quite nature. Vivian has dealt with it and moved on. All of them have accepted him.

'Accepted not understood.'

'He focuses on the inner person. Speak to him. The answers are slow in coming, but they originate from in here.'

He lifts a hand to his chest.

'Linda what's his favourite food?'

'Potatoes,' Vivian surprises him by answering like its second nature, 'in ANY form or shape.'

Linda, giving up on stopping the oscillating seat, knowledgably adds, 'The only thing he can cook is salad.'

'Now describe him in three words.'

Violet and Vvian share a look.

'Witty.'

'Humorous.'

'Lazy, annoying and inconsiderate.'

Violet and Vivian, who said the first two respectively, glare at Linda. She shrugs her shoulders, in satisfaction.

Daggers are about to fly when David intervenes. 'I am glad you studied the whole person, Linda. Now, imagine him as the person you want him to be.'

Linda quickly answers, 'Hardworking and considerate.'

'Is that so? Who will hear you rumble on and on about nothing if he's working?'

A roaring car engine ends their family banter and a cherry coloured compact car slips into the driveway and a handsome, out of the movies, police officer in uniform casually descends smiling at them.

'Jeremy!' Vivian shouts excitedly sprinting into the muscular man. He catches her. Easily.

'Hey, kid.'

'Hey,' she answers leading him to where the rest of them still sat. Blue, sparkling blue eyes access David as the owner bend to peek Violet's mouth. David, however, is glaring at the cherry car so he doesn't notice. Violet watches him sensing a momentary shift from Classic man to his Alpha form.

Jeremy curtly nods at Linda who primly bobs her head, straightening and crossing her legs.

'I Like you style,' Jeremy comments knowing the posture is his hint to compliment her.

'You should set your hair free often,' David advices guessing right. At that moment Violet wishes she knew the man who misses no small detail and why red always attracted his attention.

'Do you still want your car?' Jeremy, his hands resting possessively on Violet's shoulders, addresses David.

'The boy can drive. I bought the car to be driven. One plus one is two.'

'Kid can drive but got no licence.'

'Others have licences but cannot drive.'

Beryl eyes clash with blue eyes like two giant waves noisily colliding in the sea. Or a shield hitting a sword. The air sizzles and quakes, Violet imagines the breeze that visits the veranda must have changed direction because the air is motionless.

Jeremy squeezes Violet's shoulders. 'Don't worry, your pretty head,' he assures her, 'I'll let him go. This time.'

David counters, 'Do not worry, I will teach him not to get caught.'

Jeremy sneers.

'Son, I'll catch him. Kid's my concern. Personal concern.'

'Why not offer to help him attain a driver's licence, instead of, 'Letting him go'?' The last three words are spit sarcastically.

'I'll make sure he gets a drivers licence,' Violet intervenes sensing Jeremys hands clenching into fists, 'and doesn't get caught on the wrong side of the law.'

She pats Jeremy's fingers to unclench the fist. He squeezes her hand to reassure her before stepping from behind the back of her chair to speak to David.

'Don't be daft, Son. I was giving you permission to teach him.' He casts his glance at Violet. 'It's your place to do so.'

Done with giving permission he strolls over to the love seat with the two siblings roughly grappling over the motion of the swing. Linda is losing as their wrestling causes it to swing violently.

'I know you kids have a movie night so I'll come tomorrow for breakfast.'

Linda answers, 'We'll be ready,' whilst calculating and listing what she needs to do before he comes.

She's the one, David notes, who accompanies him to his car and waves as he slyly slips out of the driveway.

Fondly, Violet, fills in the blanks. 'He's our neighbour to the north. He checks on us randomly every week. He never married, no children and some nephews who visit once a couple of years. He's a diligent police officer who loves his job. Before you ask, he's not a former movie star.' She chuckles as her eyes fill with apparent happy memories. 'I hope you like a big breakfast at promptly 6am. To our south is strong Dora whose shut herself with her crippled daughter, Paris, so Paris doesn't hear all the bitter rumours around town about the sins of her father. Paris is eighteen and deserves to be treated like any normal person.' Tears gather in her eyes as she describes the mother and daughter situation.

David flicks the tears the tears from her beautiful face using his fingers. 'Would Paris like a ticket to Paris to meet the man of her dreams?'

'Oh, David,' she cries griping his fingers, 'If you can make her take it. Crashing her pride prevents us from helping her finically. We can only visit.'

'I can,' he confidently states in a promising voice that has her leaning into him. It is her gift to receive. 'As Jane Austen wrote if a young lady cannot find adventure in her own town, she must venture beyond.'

'How did you know that's her favourite book?'

He sheepishly smiles at her as the sun cast a warm romantic glow above her short hair. 'It's a knack besotted on me by the creator.'

'A cool knack,' Vivian agrees in awe too. He understood and expressed what she couldn't articulate into words for Violet. Trust. Faith. Belief in her. Grateful, she suddenly stands up leans down and wraps her skinny arms around his neck. 'Thank you.'

Knowing she's referring to the present he rubs their cheeks together. 'You are welcome.'

From behind Linda complains, 'Gosh, you are not going to tell me what it is? I will diiiee of curiosity.' She swings the seat, channelling her frustration.

'NOPE.' Vivian pops the word out unwrapping her hands and unwinding her tall figure. She faces Violet so they can discuss when to go shopping.

'I told you about the teddy bear.'

'You boasted about it,' Vivian corrects.

'You can do the same.'

'So, I can sink to your level. No thank you.'

Linda huffs out a breath muttering something about sisters. David raises his eyebrows at the exchange sensing it's their thing and will soon stop.

'Will you show me Paris' house tomorrow,' he orders Linda judging her to be the most suitable for introductions due to her talkativeness and speak what's on your mind attitude.

'Sure,' she agrees before budging into the other two's conversation, 'If you want to die, let Mercedes drive you to your little shopping spree. Buy me a pair of shoes.'

'It's not about you. And no one asked you,' Vivian snaps exploding like a dormant volcano.

Linda promptly throws her hot ball of magma, 'If I waited for either of you to ask me, then I would never speak.'

'Linda,' David pacifies the hurt masked under the coolness, 'they are not excluding you. How are you going to take me to Paris' house if you go with them? Would Paris like it if we all go at once?'

She chews on this for a while before finally huffing, loudly.

'Use your gift,' he instructs her, 'do not misuse it. You can contribute with tactic. Your contribution can be much appreciated that way.'

He winks at her. She's understood nothing, except he'll be there to help her navigate life. She nods. Laughs, when he immediately demonstrates.

'Marylin Monroe. Under no circumstance,' amazement lacing his tenor, he firmly interrupts Vivian and Violets conversation, 'am l helping to choose lingerie.'

***

Heat engulfs Violet. It's not from her or the night's hot weather. A hand, she knows well, pulls her close to a hard chest. She bits her lips mentally slapping herself for not following Vivian's advice to lock her door and throw the key in the sea. Vivian can be perceptive, sometimes.

'David,' she calls softly calculating how to wiggle out as she did last time at the beach house. Somehow, he's holding her tighter.

'David,' she moans. He stirs in answer.

'You're squishing me,' she complains placing her hand on top of his so he processes it faster.

'Where do you want to go?' he sleepily mumbles.

'Are you serious?' she demands, 'David, let go.'

He easily rotates her so she facing him. 'You called me David.'

In the white darkness, beryl eyes see through her, into her.

'I did. Let me go.'

Furious now she tries to free herself. Caged. The thought hits her as David shuts his eyelashes. She watches them sweep downward, then lays her palm on his bare chest.

Tenderly she inquires, 'Why do you hold on so tight?'

'Not everything has a story,' he murmurs reading her mind correctly. It has flown to a dark mysterious past. He has one, but it that's not why he's so possessive in sleep.

'I love to cuddle.'

'Not so tight,' she notifies him crossly, drawing hearts on his chest.

'You tell that to my body,' he retorts easily spooning her once more. This time she settles into him but complains, 'You're so hot we can warm an entire nation.'

He chuckles, his thick eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

'David,' she breathes, 'why do you only help boys?'

Automatically, he replies, 'Women are already phenomenal.'

Annoyed at his tactics, she sternly divides his name in two, 'David?'

Her tone impels him to shift so that he's laying on his back facing the ceiling, tagging her so she lies on his chest. When he pulls the sheet over her body, she shrugs it off placing on her right leg in the middle of his, 'You are an inferno,' she jokingly reminds him.

'It is the sleeping shirt,' he growls considering fighting the cute yellow shapeless cotton dress that covers her. 'Do you not own any lace or silk.'

'I wear this when we have guests,' she clarifies.

'I am not a guest,' he fires.

She pacifies him by pressing a hand to his chest then defends herself, 'I did not mean to offend you, David. I didn't expect you to come to me. You didn't strike me as possessive. Now David.'

Her tone notifies him, she'll not be distracted so he relents.

'Firstly, I cannot read girls or women as well and distinctly as I do young men. Your personalities are blurred seeming to feed off people around you.'

She snuggles closer, listening to his tenor, thinking of the rhythm of his voice. He gently wraps a hand around her shoulder so she fits into him.

'Secondly, boys have no one to guide them as much as girls. I know, women complain that of the restrictions that are placed on them, but they are trained and told of those expectations. Now imagine being expected perform something and not being told how, what or when to do it. We believe in gender equality in conferences but when real life hits we stare up at the men to act. No one taught them how.'

Like lights being flicked on, his eyes swipe upwards such that beryl eyes search the ceiling before they lower down to her. She waits patiently for them to lower down on her.

'I fell in love with crumbs. Today, I have half a loaf, it seems I'm sliding down.'

He throws her a heart wobbling grin.

'Falling and sliding are when you have a chance of resistance. I am sinking into love.'

***

Chapter 7- Baby blues.

Within the space of a week, David learns that you cannot converse meaningfully in Linda's loud presence. Neither will you have any progress with Mercedes when he is reading a novel or magazine. Vivian hates locked doors as she loves to budge in any time it suites her. She probably believes she breezes in. BJ and CJ are inseparable you might have more luck separating compounds of an irreversible reaction.

Lastly, Violet always wants to know where everyone is always. He sighs, signing a note to let her know they have gone for a drive. Done, he indicates for Mercedes to scrawl a message, too while he hides Vivian's scarlet apron in the laundry room.

Violet's so afraid they will walk away from her. On the contrary they are afraid she will walk away from them.

'It is an issue that needs to be discussed,' David decides pasting the note on the painting of a rose blooming, as Violet insists. Mercedes rolls his eyes, places his hands in his pockets and shuffles out. David follows, glad all of them are not present to nag them or tag along. All the females are now at Paris' house helping her pack.

'Piling worries on her,' David corrects himself, juggling the keys in his hand. Dora definitely doesn't want Paris to venture alone so she's piling 'what ifs' on her daughter hoping Paris will cancel the trip. So far, the girl is holding her front with 'Mom, I'll call you. You always know what to do.'

Flattering but it doesn't exactly solve the possible problems so Violet suggested they think of solutions. Grab the opportunity to premeditate.

'Head or Tails? Winner drives,' Mercedes calls standing at the driver's side.

Suspicious David says, 'Tail.'

Mercedes expertly tosses the coin watching each flip such that he can tell it's going to be tail before it lands on the back of his hand.

'Tail,' he honestly shouts.

'You can drive.' David tosses the keys. 'We did say I am helping you to drive.'

Mercedes catches them, heart thundering at the opportunity. Five miles are swallowed in silence. Comfortable silence in which Mercedes relaxes.

'Are you okay? Inside.'

It stops. His heart stops. The question startles Mercedes, he slows the car down to a trickle. No one has ever asked him that and mean it emotionally.

David repeats, 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, I'm okay.'

It comes out croaked, so Mercedes clears his throat. Now that someone asked and understands him, he knows he'll be okay. Inside, where it hurts the most form piercing words and murderous actions.

'Did you read the Yale student prospectus?'

'I did.'

'Is there anything you want to apply for?'

'No.'

Mercedes blood flow stills as he waits for the usual words about missing an opportunity. What possessed him to tell the truth when the truth is no one cares what he wants. At home his mother decided for him. What she said was what he did.

'What do you want to do?'

Asked so warmly and sincerely. David cares and won't spit disapproval into his face or crash his dream to ashes. Tears fill Mercede's eyes such that he's forced to stop the car. David's eyes clash with his seriously awaiting an answer.

'I hope the world doesn't lose another dream.'

'I want to be a formula one driver.'

David's mouth stretches into a satisfied smile. 'I knew you would not settle for less.'

Encouragement, a new feeling for Mercedes, charges the air. He lets the tears fall.

'What is your real name. obviously, Mercedes is for the track.'

'David.'

'David who?'

'I cut my family name when I walked out the gate.'

Mercedes steels his heart to the words surely to follow. Reading the boys insecurity, he says, 'Sometimes fleeing requires greater strength than fighting.'

They both stare outside through the front to the brown grass growing on both sides of the road before David shares, 'Violet will want to her your story when you are ready to tell it. For now, a hug will do. That's lesson number one, when you don't want to explain, hug her.'

Mercedes' laughter fills the car, at the same time he awakens the car, 'How many lessons are there?'

'For you, one for now.'

'I thought so. You are a make them as you go guy.'

***

In a grey oversized sweater, Violet stomps up and down the veranda hugging herself as she waits for them. Mercedes zooms into the driveway, slowing down once parked such that the car jerks dangerously. She rushes towards them, worried. Inside the car they share a communicative look that halts her. She knows that look. Like a foreign language she cannot understand it, raking at her irritation.

'What is it?' she demands. Mercedes, as agreed silently, descends first and approaches her. Awkwardly he circles her shoulder leading her inside. 'I'm going to be a F1 driver. David knows someone who can train me.' He squeezes her shoulders. 'I am not running away.'

She wraps a hand around his waist, 'I understand. I'm there if you need me.'

'I'm there when you want me,' he wittily replies causing tears to roll down her face.

Behind them David shouts, 'On a scale of one to ten, you get ten for charm and minus ten for the hug.'

'This,' he yanks Violet from Mercedes hold and crashes her to his chest, infolding her in his arms, 'is how you do it.'

'Place your hands on her shoulders if its too weird to place them on her waist.'

Violet raises her hands and links them behind David's neck, tiptoeing to stare into his eyes. 'At this rate you'll disperse them all.'

'Those who let go, gain. I will give him twenty for vanishing,' David momentarily looks at the spot where Mercedes was before refocusing on Violet, 'What did you want to discuss?'

She giggles, 'Paris is rubbing off on you. You are rating everything.' Her fingers brush his chest. 'I want you to meet my parents.'

Everything disappears. He's honoured he can probably fly to the sun if she asked him. 'But?'

Her eyes clash with his. 'I'm afraid you won't like them or they won't like you. Mom likes a handful of people and dad gets along with a few people.'

'I have five personalities,' he reminds her in a light tone intended to lift the mood, 'they are bound to like at least one of them. Unless there are like Edward and we have personality clash or a personality incompatibility. There is only one way to find out.'

A Jeep speedily turns into the driveway and jerks to a sudden stop. An instant later, Star descends and bangs the door wearing his usual blazer on top of a round neck top. No greetings.

'Crystal went to visit her mentor's mom,' he communicates in an urgent but calm voice. 'She lied that she's coming here. To keep up with the pretence, she called me pretending she's arrived. Timed it right, too.'

And he had a GPS on her phone for this kind of event.

'Is Mr. Musuno's mother a serial killer?' David checks before Star calmly shares the information when he deems necessary. Sometimes getting information from Star feels like looking for a needle in a haystack.

'No. She lives in a dangerous magic zone. Especially to the balance of an untrained magic holder.'

From the stony way he says it, he's speaking from experience. As if closed off Star, isn't mysteriously enough?

'In a good or bad way?' Violet questions looping a hand around David's waist.

'One for the price of the other.'

'Can you speak English,' David requests processing the information. If they are to act fast, as Star's tense posture suggests, he has to switch to his Alpha form. He admits switching fast is an advantage which is outweighed by need for control.

He speedily plants a kiss on the crown of Violet's pixie hair, shifting before the kiss is complete.

'You can't go,' she protests holding him tighter.

'Let go,' he demands firmly.

'Shift back to Classic man,' she commands. 'You need to think this through. Firstly, why did she lie?.'

The question is addressed toward Star, who's leaning on his car, legs and arms crossed. David struggles to contain the violence of his Alpha form who won't swallow the command.

Star shakes his head displacing some hazel strands of shaggy hair at her question.

'That's why we need to send someone she can talk to. Especially, if her balance is affected.'

'You are not going,' David orders.

'You aren't telling all,' Star accuses arresting her eyes.

Violet nods breaking the eye contact to stare up at David. 'You have to shift to Classic man or Peacoat.'

This time it's a plea so he does so immediately, shifting to Peacoat. She realizes she's never seen his fifth personality and stores the question for later. 'When you were out, she called to tell you that she's coming here. I picked up thinking its an emergency. David, I can't feel energy flows through the phone but I could feel she's been emotionally abused. That's why,' she concludes, 'I think Ivory should go.'

Star nods in agreement.

'Okay, but I have to go back. I need to talk to her teacher. Check on her progress.'

She agrees by embracing him.

Chapter 8- Evergreen.

'Hello?' Violet murmurs sleepily stirring a yearning in him to be with there with her, touching and holding her close.

'Good morning, sleepy head.'

She chuckles at the irony, she's always the one to wake him up while he moans about sleep deprivation.

'It's barely five o'clock. What are you doing?'

'Painting. This is the only time Crystal can help me paint.'

'Tell her good luck with helping.' She chuckles then brags, 'We are going shopping.'

'Is Mercedes joining you?'

David wears his wrist watch.

'NO. He hates it. Thank you for asking him what he wants. I guess no one's ever asked him, just assumed.'

'Give the phone to Mercedes,' he orders gently, setting up a blank canvas whilst waiting for Crystal to finish grooming her white cat.

'It will take two minutes.'

He patiently waits, deliberately mixing the blood red paint with white to make pink. The rest of the red paint, he shoves back into Crystals paint cupboard.

'Why did red have to be a primary colour?'

'Can I put the phone on loud speaker?' he hears her ask Mercedes.

Mercedes must have nodded because she tells him, 'I'm putting the phone on loud speaker?'

'Great he gets a choice, I don't.'

'Spend time with those who care. Go shopping with them. You do not have to offer advice, women know what they want. Carry bags, keep track of money and time and enjoy. Now, remove the loud speaker.'

Mercedes lazily reaches for the phone, ignoring Violet's curious gaze.

'Lesson to never break: shop in style. I will pick you up on Friday for a shopping session. Do not tell her or Linda.'

Mercedes laughs. 'She's ready to kill me.'

David's answering laugh booms from the phone. 'That's where hugs work.'

When Violet repossess the phone she demands, 'What did you tell him.'

'It's a surprise. What colour is your night dress?'

'I'm wearing the cute polka dotted one.'

***

'Great minds think alike,' David tiredly reflects, banging his car door. He deeply inhales the cool night air which is colder and denser in the city than in the country.

David decides he likes it colder especially after travelling for five hours. His fault. After two weeks of no verbal response from his sister, David decided to fetch Violet. At the same time, Violet decided she's tired of waiting for him to ask and travelled here without telling him. The result is David travelled to Violet's house to find she's already here so he drove back.

Feeling refreshed, he jogs towards the trellised pillars of the third point of the Pentagram Star.

It's his least favourite Point dealing with musical and artistic talent. The truth is he resents those with the talent because he doesn't have it. Okay. The real truth is, it reminds him of his mother who clearly expressed her wish for an artistic son. He couldn't be that son. Regretfully.

Crystal knows this and keeps her paintings from his view, nagging him when completely necessary.

Inside the hollow gallery, David follows the sound of Crystal's voice to locate them.

'Within five minutes of my arrival, Mrs. Musuno's friend showed up with a glass ball with my name written on its surface. An ordinary glass sphere is what I thought receiving it but when I touched it, it glowed as bright as the moon and as colourful as the Northern lights. Green was the most dominant.'

Hearing his sister's joy and apparent awe he decides he should have called Violet sooner. Although Crystal talked to Ivory, it was to narrate the bad experiences such as the frustration she felt when those living are matched to the dead.

She doesn't talk about the person who prompted her to go. Hopefully she'll talk. Soon.

'Shit,' David curses, his body freezing at the entrance to the gallery.

There's a red carpet separating the room into two and leading to a huge art pierce covered by a crimson curtain.

David eyes sweep through the whole room. His heart leaps out when he sees Violet is wearing the cherry red scarf he bought as a gift for both Vivian and her. As if the sister's dressed together, Ivory's wearing a ruby red tank top.

Crystal spots him first. A grin splits her face as she scurries away from the group to fetch something. Ivory and Violet remain there chatting, waiting for him.

Violets eyes suddenly widen.

'David?' Violet questions sensing him shift into a form she doesn't recognize.

Because she spoke, he charges towards her first knocking her onto the ground. Luckily nothing behind her so she's able to break her fall.

'David,' she demands rapidly sitting up.

He slaps her producing a gush of blood and a loud surprises gasp. This time, she has the sense to keep quiet.

Satisfied he stands up to deal with Ivory. Too late. She's aiming a gun at his heart, ready to shoot him.

'For my sister's sake, I am giving you a chance to explain. Explain.'

David opens his mouth. Ivory watches his mouth move yet nothing comes out. Not giving Ivory the time to process the distraction, he spears her to the ground. The impact knocks the gun out of her hand. She has no time to turn so her back hits the ground first.

Time slows for Violet.

'David,' she frantically screams seeing her sister's limp body. Violet knows Ivory had the chance to shot or even hurt David before hitting the ground but she didn't do it because Violet loves David.

'What's going on?' Violet sternly demands reigning in pain and fear for the man in front of her.

He doesn't answer.

'Shift,' she commands assertively.

Her command is not received well because he slowly trails towards her, his eyes fixed on her scarf. She stubbornly stands her ground. Not trying to be vain but she's his only hope. Her presence will accelerate the shift.

He knows what she's thinking. He's depending on it too.

This time she pleads, 'David shift.'

His stare is unnerving its like a hand on her throat, she doesn't dare move Even to remove the scarf which is his focus.

Red.

It adds up in her mind. Jeremy's car ticked him off. Mercedes red hoodies caused him to be unfocused.

'Red,' she whispers to distract him. It's her only hope against the unchecked violence pulsing from inside him.

At the sound, his eyes soften at the same time he stops his advance. He stares at the curtain. Then back at her.

That's how Violet knows he's fighting for control. She views panic as he shifts swiftly from the fifth form to Peacoat and back again to Fifth form.

Seconds later he manages to change to Classic man. More successful, he croaks, 'Do not let them take me to the mental institution.'

With these words all hell breaks loose. He violently grabs Ivory's gun and begins to accurately shot the red candles hanging on the chandeliers. The pop sound and precision causes Violet to cringe. Seconds later, he slashes the curtains.

Violet hurriedly crawls on hands and knees to her sister's body, aware David's buying them time. Silently she prays that Crystal had the sense to call for help.

Tired from the crawling, she collapses on top of Ivory, ready to defend her sister. Even if she's dead.

Vaguely, she hears Crystal screaming for David to stop as he destroys her art pierce. Besides Crystal is a man who, from his elegant slim fit suit, must be her art teacher.

Paul's intense gaze causes David to pause mid-action as if paralysed.

'Call the ambulance, Crystal,' Paul coolly orders.

Violet struggles to speak, 'Don't take him to the psychiatric ward.'

Crystal freezes comprehending what will happen if they do.

'They won't let him leave,' Crystal explains to her teacher then kneels in front of Violet to reassure her agitation, 'We won't, okay.'

Violet croaks, 'He didn't mean to.'

'I know,' Crystal flatly replies.

Wryly, Paul calls the paramedics who find Crystal kneeling in front of an agitated Violet and an unconscious body.

The leader asks, 'What happened.'

Crystal blinks, unprepared.

'A thief broke in,' Paul lies easily shooting Crystal with a 'let me talk' gaze.

'Did anyone see them.'

'I can't speak for the injured,' he replies withholding any information.

***

David patiently waits in anxious rigidness for Violet's parents to exit Ivory's private hospital room. What do you say to the parents of the women you have just hurt both emotionally and physically. He will not meet them under these circumstances. Its an order from his Alpha form.

Paul Musono, in an immaculate white suit, exits with them politely explaining his version of what transpired. Mrs. Ruvara squints her eyes at the articulate story but doesn't say anything.

'Violet, I am sorry.'

David speedily limps to where she's standing next to Ivory.

'You've been crying?'

She allows him to her to him as if he'll dry the tears she's already shed.

'For what, Mr Rhuneston?

The words are harsh, even as she sinks into the heat of his lean body. One of her ribs is broken. Part of her skin's bruised. And her head hurts. Even as he breaks her, he's mending her. Is this the lesson she's supposed to learn. To love with no reserve or reason. To bloom no matter what.

David untangles himself from her, steps back and softly raises her chin. Violet pops her eyes open. Betrayal clashes with sorrow.

'I am sorry for falling for you to a point I harmed you trying to protect you.'

'Classic man mashed into Mighty man,' she decides curling her lips slightly.

'Some ego you have David,' she whispers. 'I budged into your life. I don't regret that. Why didn't you tell me?'

'Hmmm,' he's intently studying her face. Every single detail. Violet caress her fingers on his face to help him focus. She can feel him slipping into Alpa mode. She can't let that happen or she won't gain answers from him.

'Everyone has got a dark side, Violet. Will you love mine?'

Her heart stops for one frozen moment then kick starts to 100 beats per second. Thousands of words stumble into her head fighting be expressed.

Violet shakes her head.

'Why?' she demands firmly refusing to be distracted. Instead of stepping back, she steps closer as she feels him deliberately slip into Alpha mode to avoid her question. His fierce glare clashes with her challenging stare.

He doesn't answer. She doesn't repeat her question.

Nurses, doctors and machines dissolve into a blur as David slowly reaches for the woman who makes him one. Literally.

'I have something to show you. Come.'

Not like he gave her a choice as he grips her elbow and leads her outside into the night air.

***

'Here,' he anxiously hands her a flat box and intently watches as she fumbles with the wrapper.

As the last paper falls Violrt's heart freezes in mid contraction.

'How?' she asks blinking at the painting in her hands, not sure at the implication.

Satisfied, he replies, 'I asked Crystal to help me repaint it.'

'I should have asked this last time. Will you hang it in your office?'

He gently grabs her to him. Violet lifts the painting over his head as he fits them together.

'You can hang it for me,' he offers tickling her ear with his breath.

Carefully she untangles herself from him and throws the painting in the car.

'David you have to see the shrink.'

'I do not,' he argues defensively. 'She cannot help me.'

She settles her eyes on him refusing to back down despite the warning in his voice. Didn't he just ask her to hang the painting in his office?

'Then who will?'

He breaks eye contact with her to stare at the empty cars observing that the stars seemed to shine around Violet illuminating her determination.

'To kill the tree you have to dig the roots.'

Patiently, because she's calming the sea she softly asks, 'How?'

'Miriam, a reputable witch, said I have to talk to my mother. Take red roses to my favourite place. Let her in.'

Anger.

Its hidden so well she can barely detect its pulse. Yet its so strong, he's vibrating with it.

She steps forward taking his hands to find they are cold despite the warm night.

'Why do l have to let her in when she blocked me after finding out I was too flawed for her standards?'

He violently throws the question to the universe appearing vulnerable and a misfit.

'You don't know?'

At the sound of her voice he focuses on her and starts to retreat into his Alpha form.

Violet grips his cold hands tighter despite the iciness creeping into her instead of her warming him. Fear makes her heart hammer at her ribs while courage expands it, making her feel like a bloating ballon in a cage.

'You didn't let her in either,' Viloet reasons. 'You blocked her out when you could have shown her who you are.'

David tries to break their linked hands but she's a strong vine. He settles for shouting, 'How the hell was I supposed to do that with her trying to change me?'

'Breath in,' she demands aware his Alpha won't take it well.

'Back off,' he growls.

'Breath out.'

'Violet?' he warns bending down so that their noses met.

Violet stands her ground. 'You have to answer my questions David,' she whispers taking advantage of their close proximity. 'Why didn't you tell me or Crystal? You have the annoying habit of avoiding questions, unfortunately I have blinkers that allow me to be persistant.'

'Why is the earth round? Why do I have this ability to switch? I cannot answer you, Violet.'

'You helped Paris, Mercedes, Eric, Vivian and me, David. Why won't you let anyone help you?'

'You ask some of the most difficult Questions,' David points out fighting the urge to wiggle out of the situation. 'I did ask Miriam for help.'

Violet let's the matter drop knowing he will think about it now she's mentioned it. His mind is like the domino effect.

'We need to check on my sister.'

***

A private pentagram police officer sits on a stool next to Ivory's bed, interrogating her.

Ivory cleverly lies feigning disorientation, 'I don't remember.'

Before he can fire another question she softly begs, 'Can I see my sister?'

The officer fixes his hard black eyes on her knowing she wants to plan and co-ordinate her responses.

'One more question Mrs Ruvara, Who hurt you.'

Ivory laughs, filling the room with the amused sound.

'Officer, I can effectively defend myself. I think I stumbled on the carpet. Now, I want to see my sister. Any more questions you can direct to my lawyer.'

The short bald man rises taking his que from Ivory's tone and the nurse's nod.

Violet burges in as soon as the nurse and the officer leave and makes a beeline to hug Ivory who brushes her sister's concern aside and shoots straight to the root of the problem. As long as David can't control his fifth personality they have a problem.

'You need to control that personality,' Ivory suggests to David over her sister's prickly hair. 'Next time I won't miss.'

'I know,' David replies unintimidated.

If not for Violet's weight on her, Ivory would have speared David instead she narrows her eyes at him.

'You better do something,' she advices menacingly. She's not a force to be reckoned with, David decides.

'Ivory, David fought for control so he wouldn't harm us.'

Ivory fixes a sarcastic is that so? stare at her sister before dropping the matter as easily as she picked it.

'Tell me about Mr. Musuno's involvement?'

Violet relaxes and replies, 'He paralyzed David, temporarily.'

'And did anyone of you ask what he was doing there at the middle of the night?'

'I did not ask.' David offers settling into a stool, 'But I know he's helping Crystal with her festival. In addition, he's a mentor and has to be there for students who want to ask him questions.'

'Put aside entitled loyalty, David.' Violet warns aware that his Alpha personality would be loyal to the man who saved him from the shrink. 'He might have saved your life at the expense of your sister's.'

David easily heeds her advice and slips into Classic man.

'Are you suspecting him?' he asks Ivory.

'Someone sent me a note yesterday describing how three girls have been blackmailed to go into the dangerous territory. All of them with powers of some sort. Allegedly one was told she would lose her family if she didn't go. The others where told they would either lose their powers or the power would be out of control.'

David interrupts Ivory, 'Where is the note.'

She clashes her eyes with his. Challenging his challenge and telling him it disappeared.

He nods to tell her he understood and she can continue.

'The only thing these girls have in common is Mr. Musuno. Following his ability to paralyse you, I believe he has the most to gain.'

To avoid the strong tension floating in the room from settling, Violet points out the obvious. 'We need more evidence.'

'David, I'm going to shadow him.'

'Ivory, I do not doubt your ability.'

'It's settled then?' Violet confirms looking from one locked face to the other. She's got a bad feeling about Ivory meeting Paul, but doesn't bother voicing it.

'Do not tell Crystal about it,' David requests staring at Ivory who pouts her mouth.

Violet glares at her sister who grudgingly relents and bargains, 'You will let her know as soon as possible.'

'Ivory,' Crystal rushes in excited, 'you will meet your mystery men, when the moon shines dasrkest.'

David wonders when she advanced from seeing fuzzy images to ambiguous lines.

'How will I see him in the dark?' Ivory inquires staring suspiciously at the cold crystal ball in Crystal's palm.

Instead of faltering, Crystal patiently explains, 'Sounds can entice pictures. It was our first lesson with Mr Musuno. '

Paul fixes Ivory with a 'that is why we cannot tell her stare'. Its evident Crystal looks up to her teacher. However, Ivory wants to hear more about this mystery man. Who is he? What will he be wearing? Where do they meet? And most importantly, how to avoid him.

Something about dating scares her more than death.

Epilogue.

David efficiently follows Violet's advice taking his mother's ashes and red roses to his favourite place- his father's kitchen.

In the quite hours of the night he can still hear the banging of metal mingled with chatting chefs, he can feel the passion coating determination, he can smell the food and satisfaction that comes from creating it.

This is the place his mother dumped him in a state of panic and denial. The place he first met Edward Ruvara. Both boys immediately recognized the fact that their personalities clashed and turned different directions. More significantly, this is the place he learnt to love himself, accepted who he is and learnt to train other boys to do the same by watching his father train others.

'Mom, you are my Rose. Soon, I will marry a Violet. I guess I am attracted to flowers. I am sorry I did not hold your hand when you had cancer. You will be proud to know I now run for kids with cancer, Kidscan. Having said this, I would have appreciated it if you stood by me as I fought my demons in the mental institution. They misdiagnosed me, mom. What I am, is no disorder. It is a gift. I have aided millions of billions of boys out there. Lastly, I love you.'

He lays the roses on the counter. 'Your ashes I will sprinkle where two oceans meet but do not mix.'

'***

Sparks will fly when Ivory meets her mystery men in the dark.

Don't miss out on the next book in the series, The Color Of The Sky.

Special thanks go to my family and friends for making this possible. Thank you for picking my book and reading my story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

