1 Chapter 1: Dream Deferred

Kallisto’s POV 

Darkness surrounds a woman with a lovely face sitting beside a window as scenes of New York fly past and the train moves forward. She's dressed in blue army fatigues, looking straight ahead, and cradles a six-month-old baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

The closer I move toward her, the more I can't recognize her. She looks like someone I know, but who? Her long black hair has a white lock that suddenly falls across her forehead, and her nails are long and sharp.

"Excuse me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

The woman looks at me. Her hazel eyes show a sadness that I don't understand. Suddenly, they glow as she looks around.

Wolves are everywhere.

My body violently jerks. I open my eyes, sitting up. I clench my chest, feeling my drenched nightdress. Slowly, I look around my beige-painted room, and my eyes settle on the only window. A burnt orange hue slowly spreads across the lavender sky, making the water surrounding the island a darker blue. As my heavy breathing slows to its normal rhythm, my alarm sounds.

I reach over, slapping my palm on the button to silence it. I stumble out of bed, and open the door to a large closet.

My new apartment in City Island still feels foreign–an area I could never afford. It sits high on the island in my childhood neighborhood of the Bronx borough. But Grandpa Eclipse has changed my world for the better.

I wipe my eyes, and enter the large bathroom, ready to start my first day as a business owner.

****

"There you go, sir," I say politely, placing a scone on a patron's table.

The patron sips his coffee, nodding. He suddenly lifts his index finger, saying, "I need a fork for my scone."

I snap my fingers, feeling stupid that I forgot something. I'm the owner. I must remember these things, right?

My small coffee shop seats approximately thirty people. Its light interior has a large sign behind the counter that reads "Whiffs" with pictures of coffee beans.

I return from the counter with packaged white utensils and place them on his table. "Thank you for starting your day at Whiffs."

The large man stares at me for a few minutes. I expect him to say something nice. Instead, he says, "I prefer silverware."

I open my mouth to speak, but hesitate. Instead, I wring my hands. "Oh, I'm sorry. We only have utensil packages. Um, silver makes me sick," I add as an explanation.

He opens his mouth to speak.

"Don't ask me, I'm weird," I quickly interrupt him with a chuckle. 

At that moment, the doorbell chimes. I turn to greet the newcomer and a smile curls up on my lips as I see who it is. My mom rushes from the door towards me. 

"Sugar," she yells, pulling me into an embrace.

My mom, Ursula Farkas, is a beautiful woman in her forties with light hair and a slender frame. She is one of the most elegant women here today, wearing a red dress, red lipstick and heels. She pulls away, beaming as she stares at me.

"Mom, I'm so glad you made it," I say with a smile.

I can only jealousy stare at how she placed her long hair in a perfect, messy bun. Since childhood, I've tried putting my dark, coarse hair in that style. It never worked. 

"Oh, sugar, you don't know how proud your father and I are of you." Mom pulls me to the counter where my barista and clerk hurriedly work to fill orders. "You told me you were at least two years away from opening."

I watch my barista add a shot of espresso to a patron's coffee, and flash back five years to when I was doing that job for someone else. At sixteen years old, I fell in love with making coffee and I vowed to own my own coffee shop one day. I'd still be waiting if it wasn't for Grandpa Eclipse helping me.

I turn to Mom, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Oh, no. No, you didn't, Kallisto." Mom points her index finger at me while she studies my expression. "You didn't saddle yourself with debt to open this place."

"No, Mom, of course not. I'm too young to have that much debt." I walk behind the counter, grabbing an empty cup with a sticker and placing it on the counter to help my employees with the orders.

But my barista immediately grabs the cup, giving me a frustrated look. I flash her a smile, moving out of her space, suddenly remembering how she likes to work alone unless she calls for help. 

"I had that dream again," I tell my mom, feeling lost as I look at her again. "Mom, this time, wolves—"

My phone rings, cutting me off.

"I'm going to get a snack," Mom quickly tells me, looking around and rushing away from me.  

Watching her walk away gives me a sinking feeling. Mom has the same reaction every time I mention my dreams—she rushes away or abruptly changes the subject. 

And that makes me wonder—who is the woman in my dream? Does Mom know her? 

I answer the call. It's Willa, my grandmother. Suddenly, my stomach feels queasy. If Mom knew I was talking to either of her in-laws, she'd be so disappointed in me. There's a rift in the family. One I've been trying to understand for years. However, my father, Harry, refuses to speak to me about it.

"Kallisto, is that you? I can't hear anything, Eclipse," Willa's frail voice sounds nervous on the other side of the line.

Turning away from Mom’s direction, I quickly answer, "Yes, it's me. I'm here."

"Good. Kallisto, your grandfather isn't feeling well, and I must go and get his medicine in town. Could you stay with him for a while? It lifts his spirit so much when he retails his life experiences with you."

"Um, I wish I could…" I start.

"Please, sweetie..." she pleads. “He really loves your company.”

Grandpa Eclipse doesn’t exactly “love” my company. I mean, when I sit to talk with him, Grandpa always has something to do.

Quickly, I glance back, seeing Mom walking back with a plate with a pastry on it. Guilt hits. If she joins me now, she may overhear my conversation. I’m not ready to tell her that I’ve been visiting my grandparents for the last three years. 

Turning, I sigh. "Sure, Grandma. I'll be there."

****

Grinning, I walk through the dimly lit grand mansion with deep, muted colors and eighteenth-century furniture. Every time I visit Grandpa Eclipse, I remember how he jokes that he may look ninety with his whitish-gray shaggy hair and a long beard that reaches his chest. However, I think he looks a lot older than ninety.

As I turn the corner, walking to the study with the sliding door slightly ajar, I hear a deep, sexy voice that gives my body an electric charge, making me halt in my step. 

"Eclipse, I'm losing patience with you," it snarls.

I remain in the hallway, wondering what to do. I place my palms against the dark wood doors and peek inside. Grandpa Eclipse, sitting in his wheelchair, wags his index finger, staring forward. "How many times must I tell you? I don't have it."

I can't see the visitor, but I smell him. Repeatedly, I inhale. The scent of vanilla and musk makes me slide my palm against the door, wishing I could touch this mysterious man.

"You see me as aging, so you strike," Grandpa Eclipse adds through clenched teeth. 

Slowly, I slide the left door back to see Grandpa Eclipse's visitor. Although the door makes no sound, the man standing before Grandpa's desk whips his head to his right, staring at me.

My breath catches in my throat.

The sexy, adonis-sized man in a navy blue suit, with dark hair and green eyes squints, and our eyes meet. His intense stare slowly changes into a smoldering one.

"Come, child," Grandpa Eclipse orders me.

I enter the study hesitantly, not diverting my eyes from the sexy stranger. Grandpa Eclipse chuckles. It's a disturbing chuckle that, for some reason, sends chills down my back.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Grandpa," I hear myself stammering. "I'm supposed to sit with you while Grandma Willa–"

"Yes, I know." He looks at me, grinning. Grandpa strokes his long beard, studying his visitor. "Kallisto, this is Apex Capo. He's the Manhattan borough president."

Apex curtly nods at me, but quickly turns to Grandpa Eclipse again while buttoning his suit jacket. "We have an agreement, Eclipse," he muses with his cold and serious voice. Yet, simultaneously, he sounds distant, as if he's rattled.

"Agreements," Grandpa Eclipse pauses to grin. He nods at me, still stroking his beard, "can be renegotiated."

Apex stares at me again and my breath gets caught in my throat for the second time. My stomach flutters. His intoxicating stare urges me to step forward. However, I stay rooted in place, chewing on my bottom lip. I feel like I hit a brick wall or fell face first hard in the water, feeling a stinging nervous sensation. I want to say something to him, but what? I don’t want to sound stupid. He looks so sexy and…experienced. 

The possibility of Apex’s first impression of me as an unsophisticated idiot stops me from saying anything. 

Why do I feel like I’m being pulled forward? I need to touch him. How does he feel? My core feels such need that I’ve never experienced while fear f*cks with my mind, encouraging me to run away from here. 

A smile teases Apex’s lips, making the desire within me grow stronger. I step forward, my mind going blank. His aura draws me closer, and the fear I was feeling suddenly disappears. 

Apex's eyes sparkle with anticipation as if he knows exactly what I’m feeling. 

I must know more about him. I lick my bottom lip, trying to think of something to say.

"Kallisto…" Apex's husky and sexy voice sends a thrill to my core, and I gulp. "Farkas?"

Glancing away, I nod, extending my hand. "Yes. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Capo."

The touch of his large palm on mine causes a quick shot of heat to run through me. Apex squeezes my hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb, and I swallow hard. 

Can I kiss you? I want to ask.

Instead, I take a deep breath, trying to find something to distract myself with. Glancing at his expensive gold watch, I say the first thing that comes to mind. "I like your watch."

He nods seriously. "It's from my family's old hometown, Milan."

Silence.

Apex gives me a slow once over, making me wish I'd changed from my black uniform into something more fitting for the moment.

He drops my hand and raises his eyebrows at me, looking like he's inspecting me. His gaze lingers as he looks surprised, “So, you’re the illusive granddaughter.”

Illusive granddaughter? Nervousness causes my stomach to somersault. 

Has he heard about me somehow?