Familiar Strangers

Familiar Silhouette

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Since there would be no dinner tonight, I summoned Marcel. Not long after, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called.

He stepped inside, and I looked up at him.

“The appointment you were scheduled with Mr. Tumble—I’ll be going with you. What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s at 5 p.m.,” he replied.

I checked my watch. Already past 3.

“Call me when it’s time,” I said.

“Yes, sir.” Marcel nodded and left, and I turned back to my work.

Hours later, another knock broke my concentration. Marcel reappeared.

“Sir, it’s time for your appointment. Mr. Tumble called—he’s changed the location.”

I frowned, irritation flickering. “Where to?”

“At Riverdale, sir.”

I paused briefly. “Prepare the car. I’ll meet you out front.”

After I wrapped up at the office, I stepped outside where Marcel had the car waiting. I slid into the back seat, and we pulled away.

Riverdale was a fair distance from the office, so I leaned back in the headrest, closing my eyes for a moment. Just as I was about to drift, Marcel spoke up.

“Sir,” he began.

I thought to myself, Marcel really is becoming quite the talker.

“Did Miss Marissa mention the incident that happened earlier when she came by?” he continued.

At the mention of her name, my eyes snapped open. I stared at him through the rearview mirror.

“What incident?” I asked, sitting up slightly.

“Well, when Miss Marissa came by today, the receptionist refused to let her in. From what I gathered, the receptionist said something to her and even called security.”

I frowned. Marissa hadn’t mentioned a word.

“I’ll send the security footage to you, sir,” Marcel said.

Problems really does follow her everywhere, I thought, a twinge of irritation creeping in. That she hadn’t mentioned this to me somehow didn’t sit right. Curiosity mixed with an unfamiliar annoyance—I frowned, trying to pin down why I felt so unsettled.

Not long after, we arrived in Riverdale. I stepped out of the car, straightening my suit and buttoning my jacket, Marcel following close behind.

Inside the restaurant, the subtle hum of conversation and the scent of carefully prepared meals greeted me, reminding me of Marissa. We approached the reception, and Marcel provided our reservation details. A hostess, poised and professional, approached us with a polite smile and gestured toward the reserved booth.

As I walked, something at the edge of my vision caught my attention—a familiar silhouette. I turned instinctively, but it had already slipped out of sight.

That looked like… Marissa?

She’d been talking to Mr. Tumble.

When I looked again, only Mr. Tumble stood there, the second figure nowhere in sight. I frowned slightly. I must have been mistaken.

Marissa’s POV

After leaving the Johnsons’, I was on my way to see my mother when Jackson called. There was an issue with one of the deals, something that needed immediate clarification. After a brief discussion, I decided to contact Mr. Tumble directly.

He suggested we meet at Riverdale so I headed there.

After spending far too long deliberating, I finally prepared to leave. Just outside the booth, I spotted Marcel—and as I was still wondering if he’d come alone, the walking block of ice himself appeared right behind him.

Antonio.

I didn’t think twice. I pushed the booth door open and slipped inside, hiding from view.

I hope he hadn’t seen me.

Mr. Tumble was clearly taken aback by my sudden display.

“Is everything okay, ma?” he asked, concern flickering across his face.

“Oh no, everything’s fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “You can go—I’ll talk to you later.”

He hesitated for a second before nodding and walking away.

Once he was gone, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I still had somewhere else to be.

My mother had sent for me earlier, and the time I am taking to go over and the multiple texts she has sent me, she is thoroughly vexed by now. I really am a terrible daughter.

With that thought pushing me forward, I hurried out, practically zooming across the road at the speed of lightning.

I got to my mother’s place and, as expected, endured a few scoldings. The usual. And just like I’d guessed, nothing was actually wrong.

She just wanted to know how Antonio and I were building our relationship… and when we planned to have a baby.

I gave vague answered with a wide smile on my face, I didn't want to get her angry more than I already did.

But inside, one thought rang loud and clear: my mother must never find out that this whole thing was just an agreement… one that would only last a year.

Because if she did? All hell would let loose.

After she was done lecturing and "reminding" me to carry myself as a wife who is starting a family should behave, I wonder where this is coming from that she had to call me out like this. I ate a little, nodded like a saint, and finally escaped.

I headed back to Antonio’s place. The empty space out front told me all I needed to know—my dearest husband wasn’t back yet.

Inside, the house was quiet. Like any other time.

I kicked off my shoes, made a beeline for the couch, and collapsed into it like life had personally attacked me.

As I lay sprawled on the couch, mindlessly surfing through channels, my thoughts drifted back to earlier today.

Seeing Antonio in the same restaurant as Mr Tumble had stirred something strange within me. A bad feeling. I’d shoved it down immediately at the time as his business is none of mine.

But now, lying here remembering it all, I couldn’t ignore the unease.

Why was he there?

And with Mr. Tumble—of all people—at the same place, at the same time frame?

Yeah… that didn’t sit right with me at all.

Coupled with the fact that as much as I trusted Mr. Tumble… I also didn’t. Not completely.

He was smooth—too smooth. The kind of man who smiled while calculating ten steps ahead. Reliable, yes. But predictable? Never.

He was the kind of business partner you worked with carefully—eyes open, guard up, never forgetting that his interests always came first.