BRAIDED BROOD

Chapter 9

Huxley strolled into Jupiter's hotel café in a sharp grey suit, fully prepared to meet the blind date his grandfather had arranged for him. He slid into the seat across from her and gave her a slow, unhurried once-over.

"You're even prettier in person," he teased.

Tessa smirked. “I don’t really like such blatant flattery.”

Huxley reached across the table; his fingers drifted to the lapel of her designer coat, light and careless. “I really like this style of clothing.”

"You must really like women." She pulled back, lip curling in open disgust. "Everyone's already talking about the woman you brought to the chairman's wedding."

"It's not a rumor," he said with a shrug. “I guessed you didn’t do your research on me before coming.”

"Of course I did. But I didn’t expect you to be acting like this at a formal introduction meeting. Or is this your strategy to scare me off?”

Huxley leaned back and studied her for a long moment. "A strategy? To meet a girl?" He almost laughed. "Let's just have some fun today."

Tessa's eyes narrowed. "I was told I'd be meeting a potential business partner. Is that not what you heard? Let's settle the terms of our agreement first."

Huxley sighed. The conversation had worn him out before the coffee even arrived. His gaze drifted toward the entrance, and there she was, as if summoned: Jasmine, stepping through the doors with her eyes glued to the book in her hands, earphones in, completely oblivious to her surroundings

He was on his feet before the thought finished forming. Three long strides closed the distance, and before Jasmine understood what was happening, he pulled her into a sudden, easy hug, as though he'd done it a thousand times. He breathed her in, drew back to look at her, and gave a freaky smile.

"Oh! There you are."

Settled, Jasmine stammered out his name. “Hux…ley?”

Her eyes widened in shock as he cupped the back of her head to kiss her.

At the table, Tessa let out a short, disbelieving scoff, feeling irritated by his action. "I'd heard the rumors, but you're really something else. I guess our negotiation is over. I hope I never see you again." Fuming, she snatched up her handbag and stormed out, her heels cracking against the marble like gunshots.

Only when the sound faded did Huxley open his eyes. Once he'd confirmed she was gone, he raised both hands in mock surrender and stepped back from Jasmine as if nothing had happened.

"Sorry about that," he said carelessly, already turning to leave.

It took Jasmine a moment to claw her way out of her daze. Then she was running after him into the corridor. "Huxley! What did you just do?"

"What?" He played dumb.

"You can't just use people whenever a situation calls for it."

"That's why I apologized," he said, as if that settled it.

Jasmine scoffed. "So what am I to you?"

"A childhood friend, I guess."

"Is that really all I am?" Her voice softened, but was wounded.

"What else would you be?" His brow creased. "Are you going to bring up the past again?"

Tears had gathered in her eyes, but she pushed on. "I know you changed after that day…"

"People change in ten years. That's only natural," he cut in, coldly.

"Right. I've changed too." She swallowed hard. "But what I saw today... was the worst side of you I've ever seen. And I still believe some part of the boy from ten years ago is left in you."

She shoved him hard in the chest and walked away without looking back.

Huxley turned to watch her leave, but his attention was caught by a hotel staff member approaching him with a well-ironed piece of Emily’s school uniform.

"Sir, you left this in the suite last night."

"That's not…" Huxley started, then stopped. He turned the fabric over, and his eyes snagged on the name tag stitched to the collar. It looked familiar. A faint realization hit him. "Yes," he said. "It's mine."

The staff member handed it over with a polite bow.

A few minutes after Huxley's car had pulled away, Emily burst through the grand entrance of the Jupiter building and straight to the reception desk. Her sneakers squeaked on the polished floor.

"Just a moment, please," she begged the woman behind the counter. "I think my phone got switched, and I left something behind in the suite."

The receptionist swept her gaze over the tracksuit and the tired sneakers, and decided exactly what Emily was: a commoner who'd wandered in by mistake. People like her did not belong on the VIP floor.

"But I was up there yesterday," Emily countered. "Why can't I go today?"

While she was still pleading, Jeffery walked in, listening to their conversation.

"You went up with our guest last night, didn't you?" the receptionist said, cool as glass. "Well, unless you're paying today's room charges, I can't let you up."

"What?!" Emily's jaw dropped.

“Just this once, please.” Emily insisted. “It’ll only take a minute. Please!!!”

"Hey. Tracksuit." Jeffery's voice cut across the lobby. He took in the scene with a flat look. "What are you doing here? Come on."

With no other choice, Emily scrambled after him as he led her to the private elevators and up to the suite. The moment they stepped inside, she tracked down the floor attendant on duty.

"Did anyone turn in a switched phone?" she asked, breathless.

"No, miss," the attendant replied politely.

"What about my school uniform? Or a bouquet of white roses?"

"I haven't seen anything like that during my shift."

"Please tell me you didn't throw the uniform out because it looked old and worn out."

The attendant hesitated. "I'm really not sure."

Emily's shoulders sagged. She walked out of the suite behind Jeffery, and by the time they reached the parking bay, where his heavy motorcycle was parked, she'd pulled herself together enough to reach out and lightly catch his wrist.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure I repay you back somehow.” She smiled.

"Ask Huxley to buy you a new phone," he said, arrogant as ever. "Isn't that why you're dating him? So he'll buy you whatever you want and feed you whatever you like?"

Emily scoffed. "Are you done talking?"

"Girls like you all play the same game," Jeffery said coldly. "Act proud, look pitiful, take the money. I let it slide that day because you're a girl. But don't ever show up in front of me again."

He swung his leg over the bike and revved the engine, reaching for his helmet only to freeze when Emily brought her hand down hard, smacking the back of his head.

"Hey!" he barked, spinning around.

"What kind of guy are you?" Emily planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You strut around acting so high and mighty, looking down on girls. It's really annoying. You know that, right?"

"Tsk. That little…" Jeffery groaned, rubbing the back of his skull, but she had already turned on her heel and marched away.

An hour later, Emily was in the back room of the café, trading her street clothes for her work apron and trying, desperately, to call her own number from the phone she'd ended up with. To make matters worse, her coworker Daisy was hovering around her like a persistent fly.

"Wait, you're the 'National Jackpot Girl' everyone is talking about?" Daisy squealed.

"Why isn't anyone picking up?" Emily muttered, ignoring the gossip entirely as she listened to the endless ringing.

"Oh my god!" Daisy grabbed her arm. "Does that mean you're moving into Jupiter's House?"

"No. I'm not going," Emily said flatly.

"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what kind of place that is? The grandsons of Chairman Kyle live there! They're in the top one percent of the whole world. You could've lived in a mansion, and you turned it down to come back here and sling coffee?"

Emily crossed to the espresso machine and flipped the switch. It shuddered to life. "To me, the sound of this machine brewing means honest money stacking up in my account. All I have to do is work hard."

Daisy stared at her in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind? Your life is already about as miserable as it gets. This was your chance to start fresh. So, why on earth did you reject it?"

"That’s why I didn’t say yes." She replied quietly. "I know I don't come from a well-off family, but I still have my pride. I'll take care of my own life."

Across town, the roar of the crowd was deafening as Skyler finished his encore. Fans crushed against the barricades, screaming his name and waving glowing banners, while his security team locked arms into a human wall and hustled him toward the waiting van.

"You were amazing out there," his manager said from the front seat as Skyler collapsed into the leather upholstery, soaked in sweat and wrung out by the chaos.

"Pass me my phone." Skyler stretched out his hand.

"Here you go."

He swiped up on the screen and punched in his passcode. The phone buzzed and rejected it. He tried again. Nothing. Frowning, he flipped it over and stared at a scratched casing he had never seen in his life.

"What is this? This isn't my phone."

"What?" His manager twisted around in his seat.

"Give me yours," Skyler demanded. He grabbed the manager's phone and dialed his own number.

"Set the GPS," the manager instructed the driver.

Skyler pressed the phone to his ear, tapping his knee impatiently. A sharp beep chimed, followed by a calm automated voice: "The number you have dialed is currently switched off. Please try again later…"

"No answer?" the manager asked.

"It's dead." Skyler dropped his head back against the headrest and groaned. "So many lyrics and songs are saved on that phone."

At that exact moment, in the back room of the café, Emily stared at the blank screen in her hand as the line went dead.

“Is your phone dead?” Daisy asked.

"Yeah." Emily sighed heavily. "I didn't bring my charger today."

"Isn't that your phone?"

"No. Mine got switched, and now this one's dead as well." Her voice cracked. "What if I never find my phone again?" she cried.