“You got it, boss. And hey — thanks. For finding a way out of this that might not end in all out war and bloodshed. I know how difficult that must be for you given all that’s happened.”
“Thank Chloe. It was her idea.”
I hang up and check my watch. Six PM. I need to get upstairs and get ready. Tonight, I’m taking Chloe out for a night on the town. Like two normal people. No business. No drama. Just us.
She deserves that much.
The theater is small, intimate —– one of those off-Broadway productions that Chloe mentioned loving when we were talking once. The play is excellent though I’ll admit I spend more time watching her face light up than actually following the plot.
Dinner afterward is at a small Italian restaurant I know of, tucked away from the usual mafia haunts. Somewhere we can be just Basili and Chloe, not the Don and the woman hiding from her merciless father.
“This is perfect,” she says, looking around the candlelit tables, rocking her head to the soft music. “How did you find this place?”
“I have my ways,” I say with a sly smile, pouring her a glass of wine. “You look beautiful by the way.”
She’s wearing a simple black dress, her hair down, minimal makeup. Her natural beauty shines through.
“Thank you.” She blushes slightly. “I’m not used to this. Being taken out. Treated.”
“Well, get used to it. I plan to do this for you as often as I can.”
We eat, talk, and laugh for hours. I let myself forget about the Triad, the Taos, the Russians, and all the complications waiting for us at home.
“Tell me about your mother,” I say over dessert. “You mention her every now and then but never in great detail.”
Chloe’s expression shifts, becoming distant. “She died when I was six. I didn’t know her well, but I remember bits and pieces.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s alright,” she assures, reaching across to place her hand over my own on the table between us. “She was kind from what I remember. Gentle. She met my father on a business trip in Los Angeles, I think she might have actually loved him. At first, anyways.” She pulls her hand back, using her finger to trace the rim of her wine glass as she continues, “She was very… American. He never loved her. She was just… convenient. And then inconvenient when I came along.”
“Was Delan always abusive? To all of you?”
“No. He was never kind, either. I honestly think he hated me from the day I was born. Once she died, I was alone in that house with no buffer remaining.”
“Except for Shufen.”
“Except for Shufen,” she echoes with a small sad smile. “She’s four years older than me. She didn’t have to be kind, but she chose to be. Chose to acknowledge her father’s bastard daughter when he brought me home. She’d sneak me food when father locked me in my room. Taught me Mandarin in secret so that Iwouldn’t get hit as much for not knowing the right words. And when I was sixteen and Father’s attention really locked onto me, she helped me get out.”
“She risked a lot.”
“She risked everything. If my father ever finds out that she is the one who helped me…” Chloe shakes her head. “I owe her my life. Which is why I hate that she’s still trapped there. Still playing the perfect daughter while I have my freedom.”
“If your plan works out, you’ll be the one helping her escape too.”
“Maybe.” But she doesn’t sound hopeful.
We’re heading back to the car when Chloe’s phone buzzes. She pulls it out, frowning down at the screen.
“Unknown number,” she murmurs then her face goes ghost white.
“Chloe? What is it?” She shows me the screen.
Hide him, cherry blossom.
“Cherry blossom?” I ask. Not following.
“That’s Shufen’s nickname for me since we were children.” Her hands shake slightly. “It’s her. She’s warning us.”
