Peek-a-Boo

Subdued but indeed. Lorenzo's irritation simmers beneath a surface like interminable strings of dormant volcanoes, his every word bloated with subtle poison of arrogance.

“Ah, Theo!” Lorenzo drawls, the syllables dripping with condescension. “It sure was impressive. You sure were impressive enough for someone like me,” an eerie breeze passes by Lorenzo's barely above whispers, “I've been contemplating your previous resistance to my charm. It's almost amusing, the way you did not get swayed by me. But since I'm feeling magnanimous today, so let's revisit that offer of yours. Let's see if you're still holding onto your misguided defiance, or have you come to your senses.”

In the opulent cocoon of his mahogany-clad sanctum, Lorenzo, a name usually synonymous with power and allure languidly, bugged by an unfathomable dissatisfaction, dials Theo's number, collected from the register at Louis's. His irritation, a tempest beneath the surface, fuels his every word with calculated arrogance. This is a dance he intends to lead, and only he intends to lead.

“Theo,” a velvety voice, the side of Lorenzo's usually tucked away, addresses. “You're a fascinating anomaly!”

Lorenzo's eyes, pools of controlled intensity, narrow with predatory focus. “If you're still open to the idea of us spending a day together, I will be down,” the luxurious trappings emphasizing the gravity of a verbal duel within.

One cannot hear or fathom how Theo has been dodging, but one can very definitely assume that Theo hasn't been particularly entertaining for the older. Lorenzo's fingers, moving with practiced finesse, tap rhythmically on the polished surface of the desk. “Mr.Davis, I do not extend my second thoughts twice. And remember, this is an opportunity many would kill for.”

Leaving Lorenzo reclining in his chair, Theo, on the other side of the call, twiddles his thumbs, prolonging a time which had already been prolonged enough now. Mr. Lorenzo Andros, a master strategist contemplating the unfolding moves in the sophisticated game of ‘lust’ and ‘monomania’. The room, steeped in an aura of privilege, bears witness— an orchestration of power dynamics poised to captivate discerning minds.

An invitation was dispatched. But then…

“Huh?? What? What are you doing there at this point of night?” What made the poised arrogant Lorenzo so very disconcerted that he springs off the swivel? “I'll be there. Share the location with me. Immediately!”

***

What was that spin-off concern all about? The screen illuminates Theo's puzzled expression, in the cold solitude of the night, standing outside Mr. Gerber's office. A lingering sense of confusion shrouding him like an unseen mist. “What the hell was that?” Theo murmurs, “The person so full of himself is now suddenly. . . worried about me? That doesn't make any sense. Besides, why does it matter if I'm at MY boss's office, at whatever time it may be?”

“What is this? A late night rendezvous at your office? Why or else would you be here at this hour, huh?”

Theo, still baffled by Lorenzo's uncharacteristic worry, attempts to explain. “It's– it's nothing, really. My boss needed some urgent documents and I just happened to be the one who could get them. What are you so concerned about?”

Lorenzo's silence chasing through the call hints at an untold truth, there is something both Mr. Gerber and Mr. Andros is hiding, and neither of them would let the brunette know. But there surely is something… “Listen. My connection with your boss runs deep. He's a close friend of mine and as any person with common sense would know a call at this hour is out of the ordinary. Be cautious. I'll be there shortly.”

“You're overthinking it! Boss will leave early in the morning, but he needed the hard original copies, so…”

“No I'm not! Don't speak of the things you don't know about,” the breath which comes in ripped rags from Lorenzo's being, is very much palpable. “Don't do anything until I'm there. I beg you!”

The call ends, leaving Theo grappling with the gravity, gravity of the intensity Lorenzo's words sinking in. Theo steps away from the periphery of the office, uncertainty fondles him, the shadows lengthening in the pale moonlight.

A while later, in the silence broken only by the distant hum of city life, headlights cut through the darkness. Out of the blue– no black, the darkness, Lorenzo emerges, now panting, sweat beads finding their vacancies on the ravenette's forehead, tinged with an unexpected urgency, cut through. Theo, shrouded in the night watches as Lorenzo approaches with his knit brows.

“Why are you so damn worried? What are you hiding?” Theo asks, the chill of the night biting at his word.

“Oh damn you!” Lorenzo scans the surroundings with practiced eyes, “Your boss and I go way back. A late night call from him is a rarity… you wouldn't understand.”

The two figures, framed against the backdrop of a silent city, stood still. “Do you think we should re-enter the office and just ask your boss what he is plotting?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. That's a really great idea,” sarcasm ripples on the surface, “I'm telling you, Sir just found himself in a situation that needed immediate attention! That's all!!”

“Theo…”

The dimly lit street seems to exhale secrets, one after another. Lorenzo's eyes, razor-sharp and perceptive, glance past the younger, fixating on a vague but distant corner.

“What? Is everything alright now?”

Lorenzo, not wanting to alarm, waves off the concern with a weird smile. “Nothing… nothing I hope…”

Yet, as Lorenzo turns his attention back, a flicker of movement catches his eye. “Theo!!” — is it a specter from Theo's past? A clandestine observer? Or something even more enigmatic? The figure seemed to blend seamlessly with the obsidian tapestry of night, leaving only more questions than answers…

“Theo, do you… um… sense something unusual?”

Theo, intensifying his befuddled state, looks over his own shoulder towards the back, following Lorenzo's eyes, “No? What are you talking about? You are coming off as very creepy, do you know that?”

“I think. . . someone is watching you.”