The Origin (13 page)

He ran his fingers through her hair and she felt him swallow deeply. “Thank you for not running away screaming.”

“I’m not that easy to scare, Daniel.”

“Why…” He hesitated, his heartbeat picking up speed. “Why did you stick around? I mean, I was kind of a jerk…”

“Yes, you were.” She laughed softly, her breath ruffling the hair on his chest. “But I wanted to figure you out, to discover the enigma that was Daniel Johnson.”

“And now?”

She smothered a secret smile. Apparently, even the most formidable human being on the planet was not immune to bouts of insecurity. “I think I could do worse than dating a guy with superpowers. At the very least, you can save me cab fare.”

His laugh reverberated through his chest as he tickled her sides once again. She retaliated and they wriggled around on the bed, giggling freely like children.

She stopped short when she caught a glimpse of the digital clock on his bedside table. “It’s ten thirty already?” Untangling herself, she jumped up and ran to the bathroom to retrieve her clothes off the radiator. “I have to meet my father for brunch and then get to the studio by two.”

Her jeans were not altogether dry, but it would have to do. She didn’t have time to go back home and change; at least she had had the foresight to leave her ballet clothes at the studio. While buttoning her shirt, Daniel appeared at her side without warning, making her squeal in surprise.

“Would you stop doing that? You’ll give me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You want me to carry you there?”

Olivia contemplated the offer then shook her head. “No, thanks. I don’t want to have to explain to my father why I rode a guy to breakfast.”

She could almost read his dirty thoughts as he tried to smother a grin. “I’ll hail you a cab, then,” he replied instead and headed out.

“Put some pants on first, Captain Bare Butt!” she called after him with a laugh.

As Daniel escorted Olivia to the sidewalk, he was hit with the sudden realization that he had been mistaken all along. Far from complicating his life, Olivia had actually found a way to straighten the erratic winding road that he was traversing. In her presence, Daniel could ignore the worries that lie beyond the horizon and just be a boy wooing a girl.

“Good luck tonight,” he said, a palm pressed to the curve of her back as he opened the taxi door.

“Thank you,” she said with a warm look. “Do you want to meet up afterwards?”

“Sure. I’ll call you.” He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets, suddenly aware of how much he’d touched her all day. But God help him, he couldn’t help it; the woman was just damn magnetic. He would stay naked in bed with her all day if he could.

Before climbing into the taxi, she turned back to him with a saucy smile that made him wonder if she could read minds. “I’ve had the best morning,” she said and reached up to give him one last, lingering kiss. He grasped the back of her neck, noticing an odd horizontal scar at her hairline, and pulled her closer, kissed her deeper.

He was still reeling – from the kiss, from the morning, from the girl – long after the taxi drove away.

* * * * *

“Honey! How are things?” were the first words out of Richard King’s mouth as he embraced his twenty-six-year old daughter.

She kissed him on the cheek tenderly before they sat down. “Things are… good,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed when she added, “I’m dating a guy.”

Richard lifted an eyebrow at her news, not entirely surprised. His only daughter was fickle and he was never surprised to hear that she was dating someone new. “What’s his name?” he said, trying to sound like the protective father that he ought to be. The truth, though, was that his daughter had been self-sufficient for many years and he exercised no more control over her than he did any stranger. He could voice his opinions, but at the end of the day, Olivia was willful and would do as she pleased. He saw himself in her that way. Everything else she had inherited from her mother, Sarah.

“His name is Daniel Johnson,” she said, eyeing him as though he should know the name. “We used to go to high school together in Oklahoma, though he was a year ahead of me.”

“Ah.” He regarded his daughter thoughtfully and noted the glow on her face. He asked the requisite question that all fathers asked of their grown daughter’s new beau: “What does he do?”

She grinned. “He’s a security guard at a Chase Bank.”

“You must really like this guy,” he remarked as he took a sip of orange juice with a healthy dash of vodka. The new boyfriend’s vocation was a surprise; she wasn’t entirely a snob, but of the list of men she’d dated, none had been blue collar.

“I do. He’s very…” She chewed her lip thoughtfully, reminding him of a much younger version of herself. “Special.”

“Daniel Johnson, huh?” he asked, filing away the name in his memory banks. If this Daniel Johnson ever hurt his daughter, Richard knew of a thousand ways to make him suffer, nine hundred of which he would be glad to administer personally.

A poorly concealed love struck grin was still plastered on her face when the waiter arrived to take their orders.

“That’s not much food, honey. You’re looking awfully thin these days,” he said after Olivia ordered only a salad with grilled chicken and a glass of water.

She sighed. “I have to watch what I eat. You know that.”

“Have you thought any more about what I said last time?” He watched her try to keep a blank expression on her face to hide the obvious disdain.

She spoke slowly, carefully. “I have and I’m just not ready to work for you.”

“Work
with
me, honey. There’s a big difference.”

“Either way, I’m not ready to turn my back on ballet just yet.” She flashed a quick apologetic smile and then the subject was changed, as always. “Speaking of which, you missed my opening night.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was in Korea, and my plane didn’t arrive until midnight.” He smiled at her, hoping she’d take pity on her old man.

Her eyes lit up. “Korea? Did you go see
halmoni
and
halapoji
?”

He hadn’t visited Sarah’s parents, had, in fact, not even thought about it until just now. Saying he was not close with his Korean in-laws would be an understatement. “I didn’t have time. Next time.” He hastened to change the subject. “So how did opening night go? Did you break a leg?”

“You don’t say that to a dancer. That’s bad luck.”

He sat back and shrugged apologetically, completely aware of the idiom’s significance for ballet dancers. Satisfied that he had successfully steered the subject away from her grandparents, he said, “So how did it go? Did my virtuoso daughter light up the stage once more?”

He listened with interest, captivated as her face lit up while she launched into a blow-by-blow description of the performance. He remembered the time when she had almost been kicked out of the New York City Ballet due to lack of focus, which resulted in less than perfect technique. Not too long ago, Richard had almost been sure she would give up and pursue another dream – perhaps even take a job at King Industries – but with hard work and sheer stubbornness, she had fought her way back to the top in a company of near flawless dancers. She, like him, had the tenacity to reach the top and stay there. Of that, he could count on.

* * * * *

John watched from the small coffee shop window as Richard King and his talented daughter exited Josephina restaurant and walked towards the black sedan waiting on the curb. He was sitting casually by the window, a tall cappuccino with soy milk in one hand and a digital SLR camera in the other.

Putting down the paper cup, he held the camera to his left eye and zoomed in on the stunning face he’d seen the night before. From the moment Olivia had taken her first elegant steps on stage, John had found himself immediately arrested by her performance, curious about the woman who had the ability to rouse emotion from his heart simply by twirling across a stage.

When he’d sought her out after the show, he had not been surprised to learn that she, not unlike her father, possessed a presence that commanded attention. He had almost forfeited the plan, unable to stomach the idea of hurting an innocent woman, especially one with such talents. But it was not hard to recognize Richard King in those violet eyes, and so he had found the determination to continue with his original intent.

Olivia King, he decided, was resilient. She was a survivor. If all went according to plan, she could carry on dancing afterward, unscathed and unchanged. He was willing to bet his life on it.

When John was satisfied he’d taken enough clear photographs of Olivia’s face, he turned off the camera and noticed the barista eyeing him from behind the counter.

“I’m just visiting the Big Apple,” John said in his most dorky voice, hoping to deflect any suspicion. “This place is the tops!”

The barista, smug in his own hipster coolness, rolled his eyes and turned back to the coffee machine.

John finished his drink and stood up, leaving the paper cup for the kid to collect. He winced as the cotton shirt he was wearing under the blue jacket rubbed against his shoulder, realizing that it had been hours since he’d last applied lotion on his new tattoo. The skin was starting to flake off, which meant that it wouldn’t be long now before the full beauty of the tribal design – and the fitting tribute to his twin brother – would be ready. Natasha was still not aware of the fact that, after all the time he’d spent just talking about completing the final piece of the tattoo, he’d finally had the courage to have it done. Being the only other Maori he knew in the entire city, she would appreciate the significance of such a design, especially since he had deliberately left some room for her on his chest, above his heart, for when she became his wife.

But before everything else, before rings or wedding dresses or babies, he needed to focus on the immediate future. First, he would need to get his money.

Daniel wore all black as he walked swiftly towards Olivia’s apartment in the chilly New York evening. Technically, he was not on patrol yet, but his balaclava was tucked safely in his pocket should he encounter any disturbances. Now that the sun had set and the glow of their morning together had worn off, his concern for her safety had resurfaced. Until he could take care of the ponytailed drug lord and his minions, he had every intention of escorting Olivia to and from each performance to be safe. When it came to that woman, he just couldn’t take the risk.

He took the stairs slowly when he arrived at the brownstone apartment, but before he reached the top step, a tall, blond man bounded up from behind and reached for the buzzer first.

“Sorry to cut in,” the blond guy said as he pressed a button. “I’m running a little late.”

“Go ahead,” Daniel said, his mind still somewhere far away, upwards to the woman on the seventh floor.

To his surprise, Olivia’s voice came over the intercom. “Yes?”

The blond guy bent down to talk into the intercom. “It’s me, Mei.” And just like that, she buzzed him in. Blond guy pushed on the door, and held it open for Daniel. “You coming in?”

Daniel nodded, unsure of what had just taken place.
What the hell?
he thought, wondering if it was the same guy who had given her a ride the previous night.

True, he and Olivia had not made plans for
before
the ballet. And true, they hadn’t even discussed the possibility of exclusivity in their relationship. But he had confided in her his deepest secrets and had allowed himself to be intimate with her; that at least had earned him some license to feel possessive, right?

He entered the building and sped up the stairs, faster than Blondie in the elevator, to get some answers.

“Daniel!” Olivia said in surprise when she answered the door. She glanced around. “But… that wasn’t you on the intercom?”

He fought the overwhelming urge to glower and demand an explanation. She was not his girlfriend to be jealous over. “I just wanted to escort you to the theater,” he said just before the elevator doors swished open and Blondie came strolling out, his hands tucked in his expensive-looking slacks.

“Hey Mei,” he said and gave Olivia a kiss on the cheek, making the heat rise from Daniel’s neck. He shot Daniel a strange look. “Hey, man. Weren’t you just downstairs?”

Daniel stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, wishing he didn’t look like such a schmuck next to the guy. “I took the stairs.”

“Well, let’s not just stand here in the hallway,” Olivia said and ushered both men inside.

This does not look good,
Olivia thought as both Alex and Daniel walked into her apartment, all the while casting each other furtive glances. As they stood side by side, she took the opportunity to conduct a quick compare and contrast: Daniel was a few inches shorter than Alex, but was sturdier in build. Whereas Alex was the lithe, Nordic swimmer, Daniel was the All-American beefcake football player. Alex was the more classically attractive of the two, having graced billboards in Times Square many times, but Daniel’s brooding good looks exuded a raw male sexuality of which she had firsthand knowledge.