Episode 4

LUNA

Even if I gaze at him longer than all the years past, we both quickly avert our eyes, and the one who spoke was his secretary or bodyguard—I'm not sure which—but she has the look of a rabid pit bull, appearing quite ill-tempered, at least that's my opinion. Honestly, I'm not great at deciphering people's nonverbal expressions.

"Good morning, we've come for a meeting with Mr. Smith," the woman speaks in German—that's what she said.

"Good morning, yes, he is my grandfather and, though he is a little late, I have the authority to discuss and negotiate the contract to our liking," I reply in the same language, and the woman glances at the man behind her—that's what I said.

"Alright, let's begin," she responds after the man nods.

The meeting proceeded smoothly; it wasn't long at all, really—they were straight to the point, just as my grandfather had said. Afterwards, they left, and as I'm naturally curious and my brain wouldn't rest without investigating who this man was, I jotted down his name and all the information from the contract about him and his family on a piece of paper. Another person might have handed this off to a detective or something, but I'm not just anyone. I can access anyone's security system without their knowledge, so I'll investigate everything about this man myself.

When I was about to leave Grandfather Jackson's office after leaving the signed contract on his desk, he and Ines were in the middle of an argument.

"How could they do this to my secretary? Now there's no one to assist me," my grandfather lamented.

"She was a vixen who was only looking to worm her way into your bed to get pregnant and push me out. Did you see the drugs she had to slip into your coffee? She deserved what Janna and I did to her," Ines retorted. I watched them, taken aback.

"That would never have happened, even drugged, because I only love you, and you know that," Grandfather professed, sealing it with a kiss. Feeling uncomfortable, I cleared my throat to let them know I was there.

"Luna, have you finished the meeting with Mr. Faber Adler?" Grandfather Jackson asked.

"Yes, I've left the contract on the table. Now I must be going; I have a person I need to see," I explained.

"Alright, little one, we'll meet for dinner," he said. I nodded and continued on my way to take the elevator to the parking garage, deciding to ask Grandfather's chauffeur for a ride.

Stepping out of the elevator, I was shocked when someone grabbed me and shoved me against the wall, causing me to scream in fright and feel my hair being yanked.

"Let her go," Daniel's voice surprised me. He punched the guy, who ran off with clenched fists.

"Are you alright?" Daniel attempted to embrace me, but I shook my head, feeling too anxious and violated to be touched, though I was terribly scared.

"OK, if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. Let's do what we did in the car: close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth," he instructed. I did as he said, closing my eyes, breathing, and focusing on his voice until my hands stopped trembling.

"Are you okay now?" Daniel inquired.

"Yes, I have to go," I responded.

"I'll take you wherever you're going," Daniel offered.

"That's fine," I accepted.

"Let's go, my car's over there," he said. We walked silently to his car, he held the door open for me, and after I got in, he closed it carefully before going around to the driver's seat. Before starting the car, he took out his phone and sent a message.

"I've asked for someone to look into that man and find out where he came from; we need to figure out why he attacked you," Daniel said.

"What if it was just a petty thief?" I suggested.

"I doubt it. A petty thief would have snatched your purse and run, but this one wanted something more—he gripped your hair firmly and showed no interest in your bag," Daniel reasoned.

"You might be right," I conceded.

"Where should I take you?" Daniel asked.

"Wait," I searched for the address on my phone and showed it to him.

"Why are you going to a building full of psychotherapists' offices?" Daniel questioned.

"I didn't know it was filled with psychotherapy offices, but that's not why I'm here. I'm looking for someone a friend in London asked me to find," I replied, which wasn't a lie—Marc had recommended this person.

"I see. Do you want me to wait?" Daniel offered.

"No, you must be very busy, and I have other things to do after this," I said.

"Alright, but I have nothing else going, I won't rejoin the army for another week, so since you don't want my company, I'll go bug Carter," Daniel declared.

"It's not that. It's just that—" I began to explain, but Daniel cut me off.

"No worries, you're used to doing everything alone. I get it. We'll see each other at dinner at the mansion," Daniel said.

"Yes," I agreed.

As soon as Daniel parked in front of the building, I got out quickly and waved goodbye before entering.

"Good morning, I'm looking for Grecia Jones," I said to the receptionist.

"Good morning. She's on the 20th floor, office number 45," the receptionist replied.

"Thank you," I said, taking the elevator to the 20th floor, gratefully finding it empty for a comfortable ride.

The elevator doors opened to a reception area with just one lady at a desk between two corridors.

"Good morning, I'm here to see Grecia Jones," I asked what I presumed was the secretary.

"Down the right corridor, you'll find office 45, where you'll find her," she informed me.

"Thank you," I walked down the right corridor until I reached the door marked office 45 and knocked.

"Come in," a voice called.

"Good morning, my name is Luna Smith. Marc Rivas told me I could come to you for help," I said as I entered.

"Of course, Marc's a good friend, so I'll assist you with anything you need. But where's your partner?" Grecia inquired.

"What partner? I don't understand," I was clueless about why she was asking.

"I assist those with autism maintain romantic relationships despite their condition," she explained.

I thought to myself how ridiculous it was for Marc to send me here. Not only don't I have a partner, but why would I come to therapy for relationship advice? Clearly, Marc won't live to see his wedding day because I might just turn into an assassin.

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