Mr. Mace poured whiskey into Jaiden's cup, the amber liquid swirling briefly before settling at the brim. The Englishman accepted it without a word, raising it to his lips. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the burning liquid, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
"If you must know, sir," Mr. Mace began, straightening his posture. "They were most pleased with yesterday's spa day."
Jaiden drained the glass and rested it on his impeccably polished mahogany desk with a soft, almost dismissive clink.
"Ciema especially," Mr. Mace added, setting down the bottle. "Has been most eager to see you."
"Aleen is having push back," Jaiden said, changing the subject without warning.
Mr. Mace arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Jaiden leaned forward, face still obscured by shadows. "Yes, Allen," he let the name hung for a beat. "Hexcorp refused to hand over the materials. She's been set back—for a week."
"That's not ideal news," Mr. Mace said cautiously
Jaiden's sharp blue eyes met his man's softer grey ones. "No," he said, frowning. "It's not."
In the bath room, the thick air filled with fragrant scent of lavender and eucalyptus, Laila luxuriated herself in the steaming hot water of the oversized bathtub. "Oh, man," she sighed, contently, sinker deeper into the foamy embrace. "That massage was the best I've ever had."
Jada lounged in the pit, swirling a cup of beer in her hand. "The masseur really knew how to work those hands," she giggled. "I felt like clay."
Later, Laila walked out of the bedroom wrapped in a soft pink bathrobe, her black hair tightly bundled in a matching towel.
She looked around the room, frowning. "The hell's Ciema?"
Jada shrugged lazily, sipping her drink. "I heard she went to find Jaiden or something."
Laila groaned and stomped over to the pit. "It's been almost a week and nothing has happened yet," she complained, flopping onto the couch. "When will we be spies? Never?"
Jada laughed. "Maybe, sugar," Jada said with a shrug.
In the hallway, Ciema waited for Mr. Mace to leave Jaiden's study with bated breath. She hid when she saw the older man exit and shut the dark oak door. After he disappeared around a bend, she crept forward, crouching low, and inching towards the door.
Her fingers twisted the golden knob— it squeaked. She gasped and froze. Nothing. Carefully, she peaked inside.
Empty.
Embolden, she stepped inside, the door swung open.
The walls were a rich, deep, purple. Cream carpet softened every step beneath her toes. Only one picture hung on the wall: The Mona Lisa.
A tall, dark-wood book shelf stood in the corner, filled with thick, leather-bound books. Ranged from red to purple. At the back of the room was another door, made of the same polished wood as the front.
Above the desk hung a portrait of Jaiden.
He had red, chin-length curly hair, sharp blue eyes, and a triangular, youthful face. His left hand rested the lapel of a dark navy blazer; the right was neatly tucked into his trouser pocket. Sideburns framed his face like a Victorian with swagger.
Ciema stared for a moment, transfixed, before gently closing the door behind her with a soft click.
She tiptoed over to his expensive desk, its surface surprisingly uncluttered, further enriching the scene and slid into his black, leather chair. She wrinkled her nose at the strong scent of cigar smoke.
"Ew," she thought, fanning the air with one hand.
The blue screen with the T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.'s face pops into view. Ciema froze mid-reach of the mouse.
"Crap," she thought.
"It's 9:00 a.m., Jaiden," The AI chirped sweetly. "You'd better not be—"
Her cheerful gaze swept across the room then locked onto Ciema, who offered a sheepish, slightly panicked grin. T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.'s animated eyebrow shot up in surprise, her cheerfully expression morphed into shock
"What the digital heck!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. gasped, her blue form scooting back slightly as if recoiling. "Get out your unauthorized posterior out of my creator's chair this instant!"
Ciema brought a finger to her lips, her eyes pleading. "Five minutes, and I'll be gone," she whispered.
"Negative," The AI snapped. "I want your unauthorized posterior gone precisely in five seconds!"
"Okay, okay," Ciema said, her eyes glancing to the door. "I just—I'm curious, that's all."
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. scoffed, her animated eyes rolling in annoyance. "Last time an Amazon got curious, I was shut down for six weeks!" She wailed. "It was the worse weeks of my digital life! Do you know what's it's like to be shut down for six weeks?"
"I was fired, remember?" Ciema shot back, grabbing the mouse. She clicked, revealing the login screen. The name Jaiden sat above a blank password bar.
Ciema turns to the AI. "What's the password?"
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y gasped, her animated eye flying wide. "Did you learn nothing from your public humiliation at the hands of those FBI agents?" She hissed, her blue color intensifying. "You clearly need to be humbled again!"
Ciema sighed, tapping her cheek with her finger. Snapping her finger in an eureka moment, she typed in, "TIFFANY."
A smug smile curved in her face as the screen loaded.
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. turned around, gasping, her animated eye shrunken at the sight. "You little tramp!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y shouted, her screen clouding up due to her digital rage.
Ciema did a victorious fist pump, and moved the mouse to "Files" on the screen.
However, the pointer froze, slowly being inched towards the "Power" button in the corner. "What the..." Ciema sputtered out, brown furrowed in confusion a she tried fighting against the invisible force controlling the input device. "T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.!"
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. let out a sweetly evil laugh as Ciema wrestled with the uncooperative mouse.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed the mouse towards the "Files" icon, making the AI panic. "No, no, no! Stop!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. begged, tears prinking her eyes in fury. "You've lost, T.I.F.F," Ciema gritted out as she clicked it.
As the screen loaded, the screen went dark as did the dim lights, the only source of light is the blue holographic screen.
Ciema looked around, confusion on her face. She turned to T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. who batted her eyelashes innocently. "I control everything digital, remember?"
Ciema crossed her arms. "What just wanted to know what info he stole from the FBI," she explained.
The AI's playful smirk disappeared. "You have no right to that information!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. snapped, earning an eyeroll from Ciema.
Suddenly, the soft click of the door made Ciema freeze in place. As the dark oak door creaked open, she flew from the chair to under the desk. She reached out and stopped the chair from moving.
The door shut close and she noticed brown polished leather shoes on the cream carpet. A faint, almost melodic hum fills the room
"Crap," she thought. "It's Jaiden!"
"Hi, Jaiden," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. greeted her creator cheerfully. "How was your day, so far?"
He didn't answer, simply walked towards his desk, his gait slightly unsteady.
Ciema heard him pick up something. Then the sound of a rich, smooth liquid being poured filled the room. She listened as he set the bottle down. He downed the drink in one gulp, followed by a sharp intake of breath. The sound of the glass slamming the polished surface of the mahogany desk made Ciema jolt.
She adjusted her glasses nervously.
"Was anyone here?" He asked, drunkenly.
"You shouldn't be drinking this early sir," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. chimed in, avoiding his question. "It's not good for your health. You know..."
"My liver is fine," he snapped, sounding irritated. "My liver is fine..."
Ciema let the information shimmer in her mind. "My boss's a chronic alcoholic?"
Jaiden stumbled over, slumping into his chair. Ciema panicked inwardly as his feet came closer to her body.
"Sir?" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. said softly. Ciema could sense her inching closer.
"I failed them," Jaiden muttered, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Every day, I fail them. My mother, my father, мои братья, мои сестры..."
There was a vast and sudden silence.
He adjusted himself in his chair, opening a drawer. "они все будут во мне разочарованы."
"No, Jaiden!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. gasped. Ciema's blood ran cold, her heart dropped to her feet as she heard the audible click of a gun being cocked.
There was a deathly silence.
Ciema covered her eyes, almost expecting a gunshot.
"Jaiden," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.'s voice broken through the silence. "Put it down. That bullet...you saved for someone else. Don't waste it."
Ciema uncovered her ears, her mouth agape, her eyes darting around, her brows creased in worry.
The sound of metal hitting the polish desk relieved Ciema's muscles of the tension that was built. She heard him lay his head on the table, his voice breaking into a sob.
"Я скучаю по ней," he cried, banging his hand on the desk. "Я скучаю по ним. Я должен был быть сильнее!"
"There was nothing you could've done," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y said, comfortably. "You merely a boy all those years ago."
The crying continued for a while, Ciema's eyes began to well with tears. Then
Ciema froze as his snores filled the room. She crawled past his legs and stood up. T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. turned to her. "Run," she said, sternly. Ciema glanced at him. His face was hidden in his arms as he slept, oblivious to her presence.
Ciema rushed to the door and exited the room, locking it behind her.
She stood in the hallway, the weight of the information on her shoulders.
Her father was right. Sometimes, she's too nosy for her own good.