Thread of Glass

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 — WEAPONIZED CAFFEINE

Before he could stop it, the terminal blurred, and he was somewhere else.

Five years ago. Heathrow Private Terminal.

He'd been on his phone the whole walk, three decisions ahead, half here and half already in the next meeting, while Evan trailed behind reminding him they had twenty minutes before the Axis Global board meeting. Raiyan wasn't listening. He never listened when he was working.

Then someone hit him with a full cup of coffee.

The terminal kept moving around him, suitcases rolling past, a boarding call droning overhead.

Even Evan stopped walking. He looked at Raiyan, then cursed under his breath. "Raiyan—" he started carefully.

Raiyan didn't answer. He was too busy staring down at himself, trousers, shoes, the ruined shirt, ice sliding down onto polished marble.

Evan looked from the coffee to Raiyan, closed his eyes for exactly one second, and offered the woman a silent prayer.

The woman who'd walked into him was still on her phone. "I'm not late," she was saying, "just strategically behind schedule," and hung up like she hadn't just emptied a cup of coffee down a total stranger.

Then she looked up. And stopped.

Calm. Steady. Entirely unbothered, like she'd already decided how this was going to go.

"Oh no," she said, a moment too late. "This is bad."

She stepped closer than she needed to, checking the stain, then him, then the stain again.

"If you can't walk in a straight line," she said, "maybe stay home."

That was when he actually looked at her. Sharp features, large hazel-green eyes framed by thick lashes, a midnight-blue trench, her hair half out of its knot and sunglasses shoved carelessly on top of her head. And, impressively, a second coffee still balanced in her other hand.

"Fascinating," he said. "I'll take that into account." His gaze drifted to her eyes and stayed a second too long, involuntary, the kind of look he didn't usually let himself have. "You should stay home too. Until you figure out whether those eyes are for navigation or just decoration."

"No," she said evenly. "My eyes are on vacation."

"Tell them not to extend it. I'd hate for someone else to suffer." He was enjoying this more than he should have.

She didn't flinch. If anything, she looked entertained. "Funny. I thought yours were on the same trip."

He exhaled once, recalibrating, and let his gaze follow hers down to the stain. "Right—"

"And look," she said, cutting him off, gesturing at his ruined shirt, "your shirt just filed a claim on my morning coffee."

"Ah." His voice dropped without his permission. Inexplicably annoying, this woman.

She looked down at the damage she'd caused, the humor in her voice dimming a notch. "Okay. This part's on me." She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and stepped in close enough that he caught it: warm vanilla, dark jasmine, rain, before he could stop himself from noticing.

Her hand landed lightly against his chest, right over his heartbeat. She probably hadn't felt it.

He had.

His fingers closed around her wrist before he understood why, and neither of them moved.

"I think," he said, voice lower than he meant it, eyes dropping to her mouth for exactly as long as it took to remember himself, "you've done enough damage."

She didn't pull away, only tilted her head, pulse steady under his thumb. "Are you always this dramatic, or did my coffee offend you personally?"

She glanced down at his hand, and he realized he was still holding her.

He let go slowly. She only lifted one eyebrow, almost nothing at all.

"I'm trying to decide," he said, "whether this was an accident, or a cry for attention."

She blinked, then smiled, enigmatic. "You think I spilled coffee on you for attention?"

"You walked into me." Raiyan lifted one eyebrow, as though he'd just presented the final piece of evidence.

"Yes." She paused, just a half second, the pause that always came right before she said something outrageous, then stepped forward. "With commitment."

His hand flexed once at his side. She was watching him with those eyes, and that was the whole problem.

"You owe me a shirt." He glanced down at the stain again, unimpressed.

"You owe me emotional damage." She came back just as fast.

"Send me the invoice," he said flatly, and neither of them stepped back.

Before she could say another word, he reached over and took a sip from her second cup, an uncalculated move, his hand acting before his logic could catch up, which never happened to him.

"Absolutely not," she said, already too late. She froze. "Did you—" Her mouth fell open. "Did you seriously just sip-spill me?"

"I showed restraint." Raiyan looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"You weaponized caffeine," she said. "That's a crime."

His gaze dropped to his shirt, then hers. "If that's the law, you're already serving life. Prove it."

She lifted her chin, proud and entirely unbothered. "I'm a law student."

He didn't answer right away, just studied her long enough that she almost filled the silence herself. "Of course you are," he said finally, like it made perfect sense. "That explains everything."

"Well, it does." She gestured at herself, presenting the evidence.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. She was already watching him with that calm, waiting expression, like she had the next three moves ready and was giving him time to catch up. He predicted everyone. He couldn't predict her. He should have walked away.

He didn't.

"I'll buy you a coffee," she added, recovering her rhythm.

"Out of guilt?" His brow lifted, the corner of his mouth threatening to move despite himself.

"Compensation," she said, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "For the emotional distress your morning tantrum caused."

His mouth curved despite himself. He couldn't remember the last time a stranger had made him smile.

"I thought it was for ruining my shirt." He wasn't ready to let that go yet.

She smiled, slow and satisfied. "Try not to assault anyone else with beverages today." And then she was gone, into the crowd.

For one ridiculous second, he considered following her.

Behind him, Evan was still processing whatever had just happened. "Raiyan?"

"Interesting," was all he offered.

The scent of jasmine and rain still clung to his ruined shirt.

"Raiyan." Evan's voice snapped him back. "We're going to miss the board meeting."

He looked once more at the corridor she'd disappeared into, then walked away.

Axis Global, twentieth floor. Evan studied him for a long second. "Did you just sip her coffee? And then spill it back on her?"

Silence.

"For as long as I've known you, you're basically a germaphobe. You don't even drink from other people's glasses." Evan was still staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

Raiyan's fingers paused. *You weaponized caffeine.* Something in his chest eased before he could stop it.

"What happened to my best friend?" Evan asked.

Raiyan pushed open the boardroom door. "Shut up and move on, Evan." His mouth curved anyway.

***

Present day.

"Sir." Michael's voice cut clean through the memory.

Raiyan blinked once, and Heathrow disappeared. Geneva returned.

His eyes dropped to his sleeve, an old reflex checking for a stain that hadn't existed in years. He breathed in slowly, locked the memory away, and turned back.

"Nelson called," Michael said. "Mrs. Mansoor confirmed everything is ready at the manor. She'll be back by Tuesday."

"I'll pick her up myself." His voice was steady again. "Make sure security stays with her. And increase security at the manor, with Liyana."

Michael nodded and returned to his tablet.

Raiyan looked once toward the terminal doors.

Five years ago, she'd disappeared into a crowd before he could learn her name.

This time, he already knew exactly where to find her.

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