This time, he laughed.
“What’s your name?”
“I already told you. It’s Lian.”
“Not the pseudonym you use at the bar, your real name.”
“I thought you said you weren’t naive.”
“……”
“Do you think I’m going to tell you?”
“Then your phone number.”
“……”
Joshua Lockhart took another step closer. He stretched out his long, solid arm, gripped the center of the handlebars, and shook them slightly.
“Should I come every day? Or follow you home? Would that be better?”
“Is that a threat?”
“I’m showing you my sincerity.”
With a light sigh, Elian spoke in a tired tone.
“Give me your phone number. I’ll contact you from my end.”
Joshua Lockhart’s business card fell into Elian’s hand. It was a personal card with his private contact information that connected directly to him. Elian deliberately read his name aloud.
“Joshua… Lockhart?”
Not even knowing the name Lockhart made no sense. It was enough that he didn’t know he was a Lockhart.
“What? You flirted without even knowing who I am?”
“Do I need to know? And, I’ll say it again, I didn’t flirt.”
“The purpose of kids working at this bar is obvious.”
“What is it?”
“Trying to hook one of the customers who come in and out to become their lover or something. Not that that’s particularly bad.”
Thinking of some of his coworkers, Joshua’s words were somewhat true. But not all his colleagues were like that.
“That’s a typical perspective.”
“You’re not?”
Elian shoved the business card into his jeans pocket and answered.
“I’m working here because they pay a high hourly wage.”
“A beauty in need of money… now that’s typical.”
His unnecessarily grinning face corrected his own words and added.
“Well, your appearance is definitely not typical, at least.”
As Elian put his foot on the pedal as if about to depart any moment, Joshua Lockhart completely blocked the front of the bicycle. Standing firm with the front wheel between his legs, he shook the handlebars threateningly once more.
“Call me.”
“Fine.”
“If you don’t, I’ll really be a nuisance.”
“I said fine.”
“Normally I wouldn’t let you go like this. I’m being patient.”
“Should I praise you or something?”
“Will you?”
“……”
“If you’re going to, I’d prefer a kiss.”
In front of the dumbfounded Elian, his grinning face boldly approached close.
His deep green eyes audaciously came right up to his nose and examined every feature of Elian’s face point by point. The moment he lifted his eyelids that had been looking down at his lips and finally met Elian’s blue eyes, Joshua Lockhart’s green eyes shook mercilessly like a forest meeting a storm.
“How can you be this pretty? Are you even human?”
His gaze had a more specific color than when he’d gone to take his order.
If back then it had been a look that said he wanted to date, now… it was a look that said he wanted to take him away and roll around with him.
When Elian pushed against his chest, he laughed and stepped back three or four steps.
Then he continued to slowly walk backward toward where the car was waiting. With a tickling smile spread across his entire face as if he might burst into laughter at any moment.
That was the incident that occurred between him and Joshua Lockhart last night.
After coming down from the Brooklyn Bridge, Elian headed north. To turn onto 2nd Avenue, he had to make a right turn at 3rd Avenue as usual. However, for some reason, the road was blocked off.
A manhole cover was open for some construction work, and people in work clothes were busily coming and going. A safety officer wearing a fluorescent vest spotted Elian with a troubled expression and shook his head.
“You can’t turn right here today.”
“I need to get to 2nd Avenue.”
The man pointed in the northern direction with his hand.
“If you go up a few more blocks, you can turn right at East 52nd Street. Then come back down from there.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Elian pedaled again. There was no problem since he didn’t have a tight commute time remaining.
After making a right turn on the road the safety officer had indicated and merging onto 2nd Avenue, he began heading south again. At an intersection not far from the block where the center was located, cars were waiting for the signal. Elian also stopped on the bicycle lane.
It was in front of a restaurant with an eye-catching emerald green awning. The colors of the outdoor tables and chairs set out on the sidewalk were fresh. A few people who appeared to be travelers were enjoying a leisurely morning.
The morning air was different day by day.
Only his back with the backpack and his helmeted head had a slight sweat, but it wasn’t very hot. Once he arrived at the center and got some air conditioning, it would cool down quickly.
Where Elian was standing was in the shade, but starting from the intersection, sunlight was pouring all over the street ahead. The buildings reflected the morning sunlight and shone like they were brand new.
To the right of Elian’s bicycle, a black limousine sedan was stopped.
The car windows were so darkly tinted that even if you stuck your nose against them, you wouldn’t be able to see inside. It was quite a luxury vehicle, but that wasn’t unusual in Manhattan.
Just as he was laughing emptily at the thought that whenever that all-black car traveled on the road, it might absorb all the light from the streets, with a click, the helmet strap came undone.
“This is acting up again.”
Elian tried to refasten the buckle. But this time, no matter what he did, there was no clicking sound. It seemed that part of the buckle had broken.
He had no choice but to take off the helmet and forcibly shove it into his backpack. Riding with an unfastened helmet strap could be more dangerous. There wasn’t much left to the center anyway…
When he properly adjusted his backpack again, the signal changed.
Leaving the front of the restaurant, Elian headed south, running into the sunlight. While mentally gauging when would be a good time to contact Joshua Lockhart.
Three months since moving to New York.
He had obtained the contact information of one of the two Lockharts.
■
Upper East Side.
Between 5th Avenue and Madison Avenue.
A quiet street with no restaurants or shops at all, not occupied by tourists. The Lockhart family’s cream-colored marble mansion sat heavily in the silence.
Lorenz Lockhart was on the third floor there, preparing for a business trip.
He showered with completely unscented body wash and shampoo, and dried his body with a towel washed to have no scent. His skincare and hair products were all unscented as well. Perfume couldn’t be found anywhere in the powder room or dressing room. It was a result that directly reflected Lorenz Lockhart’s fastidious temperament of avoiding artificial fragrances.
Wearing only black boxer briefs on his well-trained body, he approached the suit that had been prepared in advance. He picked up a cleanly ironed shirt first. Instantly, his pale face wrinkled intensely.
The shirt gave off an unfamiliar smell.
Despite clearly instructing that no scents were allowed.
Clicking his tongue, Lorenz threw the shirt straight into the laundry basket.
Normally it would have been a smell within an acceptable range. As long as it wasn’t pheromones, not every smell was torture to him every time. However, recently his physical condition had not been very good. His sense of smell was several times more sensitive. Even the faint smell like fishiness rising from the shirt was so disgusting he couldn’t bear it.
Since the shirt had changed, everything had to be selected again. The matching suit, tie, and shoes.
With his lips set firmly, he hurriedly chose clothes again.
No matter how trivial, having his plans and routine disrupted like this made him even more sensitive.
After the death of his father Damon Lockhart, his grandmother had ordered him to move his residence here. The reason was that they couldn’t leave this place, symbolic of the Lockhart family, empty without an owner. She left no room for compromise, saying it was his duty as the eldest.
Of course, the move here itself was welcome.
All the legacy of the Lockhart family that he rightfully should inherit. Among them, this mansion had special meaning.
It was just that there were still inconveniences in daily life.
It couldn’t be the same as living in the 5th Avenue penthouse where everything was perfectly prepared according to his routine.
He couldn’t even bring his own employees. In the mansion, one had to follow the mansion’s rules. No matter how much he carried the Lockhart name, until he officially became the successor, he wasn’t the true owner of this place.
The third-floor bedroom he was using wasn’t inconvenient in structure itself, as it was all connected to the dressing room, bathroom, and study. However, the employees here still couldn’t smoothly accommodate Lorenz’s fastidious demands.
His physical condition had hit rock bottom.
And today, that discomfort had reached its peak.
