I can’t help smiling. “Yes,” I say softly, shrugging my shoulders.
“I see,” Dad hums, trying to keep his expression stern despite the fond smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me about him.”
“Not yet, but you guys will meet him soon,” I say, laughing at their identical expression of curiosity. “But I promise you, he's…different.”
“Different good?” Mom asks.
I nod. “Very good.”
“What’s his name?” Dad asks, in full protective-father mode.
“Dima,” I say, using the nickname Dmitri told me his family calls him. It feels more intimate somehow, like a secret just between us. “He’s...older. A businessman. And he’s a much better chess player than I am, which is honestly annoying.”
Dad chuckles. “Anyone who can beat you at chess sounds like someone I need to meet.”
Mom teases me for the next ten minutes while we order mimosas and pancakes. My father mostly listens, his attention flicking toward his phone more than usual. I notice it but say nothing. He’s always been serious about his job. As Special Agent William Turner, he’s built his career on catching people who think they can outsmart the law.
Halfway through brunch, he excuses himself to take a call. I sip my mimosa, watching the sunlight glitter off the glass. After a few minutes, I realize he’s been gone longer than usual after getting a work call when he’s with Mom and me.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Mom, pushing my chair back.
Outside, I look around for a while before finally spotting Dad, half-hidden behind a delivery truck, speaking to a man I don’t recognize.
The stranger’s posture is casual but alert. He's tall, with broad shoulders and a sharp, angular face, half-hidden under the brim of a baseball cap. What catches my attention is the strange-looking tattoo on the back of his hand, something dark and intricate, curling toward his wrist.
I inch closer in time to see Dad hand him what looks like a small hard drive. The man passes him a brown envelope in return.
Who is he?
An informant?
Just then, the stranger’s head turns, and his gaze suddenly locks with mine. I freeze, my heart jumping at the cold emptiness in his eyes.
I step back instinctively, my heel scraping the pavement. I duck behind the side of the building, my heart pounding. When I look again, the man is gone.
I head back inside, smile at Mom, and murmur something vague about Dad being on an important call. Minutes later, Dad returns to the table, mumbling some excuse about never being able to really get a day off from work.
“Everything okay?” I ask carefully.
He hesitates, then smiles the way he does when he wants to reassure me. “Just the new case I’m working on is high-profile, lots of pressure. Nothing you need to worry about.”
I nod slowly, though my mind is spinning. He’s been with the Bureau my whole life. Commendations, awards, speeches aboutintegrity and justice. He’s the last person I’d ever associate with secret meetings in alleyways.
But he said it's something for a case. Probably an informant. It’s none of my business.
Mom changes the subject, and soon I’m talking again—about school, and Dima. I keep the details vague but can’t help the warmth in my voice when I talk about him.
Afterward, Mom and Dad drop me off at my dorm, and as I'm hugging Mom goodbye, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
It's Dmitri, asking if I’d like to come over for dinner and a game of chess tonight. My heart skips, and a grin spreads across my face before I can stop it. I wait for my parents to leave before sending a reply accepting his invitation.
I tuck my phone away, the morning’s disappointment dissolving into excitement.
Still, there’s something strange about what I saw with Dad earlier—the man, the exchange—and it nags at the back of my mind. But I push it aside. Dad’s been doing this job for over twenty years. If he says it’s nothing to worry about, I should trust him.
Right now, nothing feels as important as seeing Dmitri again.
Chapter Two
