Man in shades

"Welcome to Hagen Coffee House, mademoiselle." The waitress curtsied. "Are you being expected?" Asked the girl politely.

Melinda lingered for a moment longer in her gaze on the girl, leisurely removing her leather gloves and taking off her scarf. Which she then handed over to the waitress with gloves and hat.

The girl's gaze was always on the floor. Her dark braids were neatly braided as they were carefully draped over her slender shoulders. The black dress was a little too loose for her, but it was cleverly hidden by the white apron above. Only the well-versed eyes of a woman would notice this little faux pas.

With serenity, Melinda let her eyes wander over the guests. While her fingertips skilfully opened one button after the other. The pretty girl stepped behind her, assisted her with practiced movements out of the beige fur coat.

"I am being expected." Melinda's gaze remained fixed on a familiar walking stick. A silver halter, modelled after a lion's head. Probably an old family heirloom. He always had it with him. It was important to him, or at least she assumed it was. She knew neither his real face nor his real name, yet she had known him for decades. Ever since she was a little girl. She had often met him at soirees abroad. Sometimes he'd even visited her father. "A table resaved for Shinley." They had known each other for so many years now, were close to each other. But at the same time, so far from each other.

She only had a faint idea of the kind of work he was doing, but for whom he was working, she didn't know. He was too good at covering his tracks. His domain was the dark. He was most comfortable operating in the shadows.

The pretty brunette let her eyes slip for a second into the guestbook before leading Melinda to the table she had spotted minutes ago.

Mr Thomas Shinley stood up. He looked even more imposing as he was standing, outdoing her by at least three heads. She herself was not small in stature, with her height of 172 cm. But this man had to be at least two meters high. He had always been a handsome giant.

The blond hair had been carefully combed back. Not a single strand of hair broke away from the style. His features were slick and, as usual, revealed nothing. Once again he wore a different face. If she had met him on the street, she wouldn't have recognized him.

They were more alike than she would have liked. After all these years since she had been in his service, she had learned a lot from him. Had adopted traits and behaviors from that fox. Just like him, she didn't really have a place to call home. For many years she lived like the wind, did not stay long in one place, was restless.

But now she was tired. Tired of this life. Now she knew a place she wanted to go back to. She wanted to feel that one man's arms again. Only there she would feel happy again.

A long time had passed.

She had to hide. It was the only way she could protect him.

But now she was back. She had to come back.

"Thomas." She greeted him friendly. There was a glint in his eyes.

"Iona." In an elegant movement he bent forward, kissing tenderly the back of her hand. His lips were dry as they brushed against her skin. But still there was that grin on his face. A lurking smile, a cold laugh that never reached his eyes.

Softly he pulled the chair out, helped her to sit upon it. Before he sat down across from her.

He ordered a coffee for her. Black. He knew her too well. Read her like an open book. She'd better watch out for him. She was never sure if she was his enemy or ally. He always got her information, but never gave his.

It was always a tiresome game with him.