Chapter 5 – The Observation
The spa smelled like eucalyptus and engineered silence.
Sera sat alone in the private lounge, back straight, legs crossed. The hostess had offered her tea. She declined. She didn't want anything warm. Not yet.
The walls were soft gray stone. The lighting, gold-edged and indirect. Designed for intimacy, though she had no plans to indulge. This wasn't that kind of meeting.
She glanced at the mirror across the room. Her reflection stared back: minimal makeup, slicked hair, high-neck black dress hugging her figure. Long silk gloves. Jewelry sharp and sparse.
Perfect.
And yet her fingers wouldn't stop moving. Lightly touching her neck, tracing the faint line just beneath the collar.
The one scar that never quite disappeared.
She caught herself. Folded her hands in her lap. Stilled them.
She checked the time.
Right on cue, the door opened.
He stepped in.
Black shirt, sleeves rolled. Tailored slacks. Unbothered, composed, clean.
His eyes swept the room.
And Sera stood—too quickly.
She turned.
Walked away.
Ryden paused in the doorway. Certain, for a second, that he saw someone leave. A shape. A flash of dark silk. But no one looked back.
He scanned the room again. Dialed. Waited.
Upstairs, Sera moved fast. Through the back corridor, up the staircase, and onto the mezzanine. She kept to the shadows, one hand on the railing, the other holding her phone to her ear as it rang again.
Below, Ryden stood at the edge of the lounge, still calling, still waiting.
She stopped when she found the right spot. High, with a full view of the floor below.
And there he was.
Phone still to his ear. Shoulders relaxed. Brow slightly drawn.
He looked good in stillness.
She watched the way his shirt framed his form. The quiet confidence in the way he scanned the room. The calm in how he waited.
Like he's always sure of every step he takes.
Then—
He looked up.
Their eyes locked.
She froze.
The crowd below blurred. The soft hum of ambient jazz, the clink of glasses, the low conversation—none of it mattered. Just that still moment.
Ryden.
Taking her in.
Her figure, statuesque under the sheer lines of a high-neck silk dress. Delicate and cold. Enough to hold people back.
But not him.
He gazed straight at her.
She let it linger a second too long.
Then she cut the call.
Turned on her heel.
Started walking.
Behind her, Ryden moved.
She quickened her steps, weaving through the hallway like muscle memory. Her driver was already on the curb outside. The valet nodded. She stepped into the chilled evening air without breaking stride.
But Ryden caught up.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't grab her. Just—
Her wrist.
A touch. Gentle. Firm.
She stopped.
Her breath hitched.
"Sera."
That voice. Not filtered through a phone. Not delivered through a script.
Real.
She turned halfway. Enough for him to see her face.
"Mr. Kamakura," she said. Clean. Even. Hiding the nervousness inside her.
He looked at her, waiting. Expecting something. Anything.
Sera couldn't find the line.
There was no script for this.
What was she thinking?
"Thank you for coming."
The words came out smaller than intended.
She stepped into the car. Freed her hand.
Paused.
Then, quietly:
"See you in our session."
She shut the door before she could see his reaction.
The car pulled away.
Ryden stood there, frowning slightly, hand falling back to his side as he watched the black vehicle vanish into traffic.
What was that about?
He blinked. Then smirked faintly to himself.
"Still on, I guess."
His boots crunched over the crushed stone path as he turned away.
Might as well get a drink.
At least he got paid.