Meeting

Two weeks had passed since Dexter had been abducted. He was being fed three times daily and thought he was being fatted up for some cult ritual. With his hands tied up, he would be taken to the huge restroom and locked in while he showered every morning. A few black clothes were given to him. His dirty clothes were taken away and always returned in a clean fresh pile. Many times he tried to make a run for it but was always caught and brought back to his room. Dexter counted the days as they passed and concluded Lena hadn't reported his disappearance to the police. It was a good riddance for her.

One cool morning, the door opened and Dexter looked up from the bed he was lying on. He had expected to see the woman who brought him his meals but was astonished to see a well-dressed man in a blue suit, the blonde-haired man and three others in black uniforms. Sensing trouble, Dexter jumped up from the bed and took in the situation. Probably they were here to take him for the ritual, he thought. The man in the suit stepped forward and smiled, revealing a set of gold teeth.

"Please Sir, could you come with us?" he said and gestured towards the door.

"To where?" He asked, his gaze moving from one person to the other, watching their reactions.

The other men gave no facial reactions as they stood at attention.

"The Don would like to meet you," the man in the suit said, still smiling.

Dexter scoffed. He wouldn't fall into their trap.

"Is this about Logan?" Dexter asked. "I am not his brother. I'm not even related to him."

The man in the suit stared at Dexter with his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the Don waiting,"

He turned toward the door and glanced back at Dexter, who made no move. He turned and nodded to the blonde-haired man who gave his hand signal to his followers, and they advanced towards Dexter.

"Get your hands off me," Dexter yelled, struggling against the three men who tied his hands and covered his face. He was bundled downstairs and into a car. The ride was more comfortable than the previous van ride. The driver stopped in front of Federico's Estate, spoke in Italian to the security personnel and was allowed into the Estate. When they stopped, Dexter had thought they had reached their destination and was surprised when the car started again, and they drove for some time. Federico's sprawling Estates was palatial with its numerous guest houses, horse stables, tennis courts, playgrounds, hospitals, restaurants and a school. It was a town of its own. The driver pulled up in front of a mansion and the bag was taken off Dexter's head.

"I'm sorry for the mishandling Sir," said the man in a suit who sat beside him.

He proceeded to untie him and held the door open for him while Dexter alighted. He saw he had been driving in a Ford Mustang, an American muscle, raw and powerful.

Dexter stared up in amazement at the opulent mansion with marble pillars. The ostentatious mansion's garish gold-plated fixtures, neon-lit fountains, and over-the-top interior design screamed of tackiness and excess, rather than sophistication and refinement. Its manicured gardens and imposing entryway were the epitome of an exclusive lifestyle that he would never be able to afford. As they approached the mansion, they passed by the glass house garage and Dexter stared in astonishment at the arrays of cars there. There was the Mercedes, a statement in elegance, the Ferrari, a car that demands attention, the Land Rover, ready for off-road escapades, the elegant Tesla, driving into the future, the iconic Mini Cooper which was quirky and fun, the BMW, German's engineering of precision and sophistication, the Subaru WRX, adrenaline in motion and finally the timeless elegance of a Rolls-Royce, the pinnacle of luxury.

Dexter gasped in admiration. Whoever owned these cars wasn't just rolling in dough but was made of money.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Summer Fashions welcomes you to our first New York showing. Taking our cue from the glorious warmth of the sun and sea surrounding us, we are using 'Elegance in the Sun' as our theme. Many of you will be wondering if, or why, elegance is necessary in beach wear.

We at Summer believe that elegance is every woman's prerogative, whether at the beach or in a sophisticated spot where she dances the night away." Hayley's eyes swept around the audience seated at individual tables on either side of the long apron upon which the models would soon be displaying summer creations. Most were European tourists—a sprinkling of younger groups there because a fashion show provided a contrast to the usual daytime amenities; the rest were middle-aged men who mopped receding brows despite the air-conditioning, their wives relishing the chance to sit down out of the sun and wiggle their toes in expensive sandals. Her eyes met with Rob's, who smiled shyly and waved at her. She wondered what the hell he was doing here. She suddenly felt nauseous and took a long deep breath. For the past few days, she had been unusually exhausted.

Hayley's gaze shifted back to Rob and, finding his stare still as boldly penetrating, she pulled her eyes sharply back to the typed sheets before her.

'Adriana is going to begin today's showing in a sun and surf eye-catcher swimsuit and beach cover-up....'

As the willowy pale-skinned girl, as slender as herself, walked onto the small stage, her nervous inexperience was apparent only to Hayley's practiced eye. With a little more experience of this kind, the young French girl would make an effective model. Hayley talked constantly in a soothingly confident tone as the girl paraded along the apron, using her hands to draw attention to the salient points of fit and design as Hayley mentioned them. Many of the American women in the audience, beguiled by the fashions that had looked so well on the slim models, were eagerly inquiring about placing orders. Ciara, the girl who would be taking over as manager of the branch when Hayley returned to the States, directed them to the boutique located in the same hotel as that in which the fashion show had been held.

Backstage, Hayley warmly congratulated the four models on their maiden effort. They scuttled away when the hotel's assistant manager came to ask Hayley if the staff could begin to clear the ballroom for that evening's buffet dance. Giving her assent, Hayley cursorily checked the rack of dresses and swimwear used for the afternoon show, then made her way across the spacious yet intimate ballroom to the wide glass doors giving on to the hotel's huge lobby.

Live trees and shrubs in massive tubs were arranged in a seemingly haphazard manner across the immense hall, and it was from behind one of these that Rob stepped.

"What are you doing here?" Hayley asked.