Chapter 4

Kristofer’s POV

I had not planned to attend the party, I had heard of it, I saw the invitation but I wasn't prepared to honour it. 

Parties weren't exactly my thing. 

My days ran on precision. Wake up before sunrise, workout at my home gym, get reports of the previous days dealings before breakfast. 

Meetings that pretended to be about numbers but were really about loyalty. 

Sometimes there would be violence and bloodshed, when it happened, it was contained, deliberate, never emotional. 

I had been trained into restraint the way other men were trained into ambition.

Succession hovered over everything like a second atmosphere.

My father had built the organization with blood and discipline, then died before he could see it fracture. 

Now the question of who would lead sat between us all, unspoken but omnipresent. I was the expected answer. 

Lucien was the alternative no one admitted to considering. Everyone knew he wanted my throne, word came out that he didn't believe I deserved it and I could only become the leader just because I was the son of the Don, and not by merit. 

Something I greatly disagreed with, but as long as he could not say it to my face, it was all good. He could say whatever he wanted behind me. 

We've both worked hard to earn that spot, and it will be gotten diplomatically. 

That morning, I’d been reviewing territory transfers with a cup of hot tea when my mother came downstairs. 

“Good morning mom,” I greeted, as I took a slice of bread. 

“Good Morning Krissy. Trust you slept well.” 

“Mom, I'm 32 now, what did I say about the name ‘Krissy.’ I asked, she'd called me that since I was like five or so, growing up I never loved the name. 

“Oh relax, I'm sure you have gotten an invitation to the Patel party later tonight.” She said. 

“I can't say that I have.” I wanted to dodge that conversation with her, but she didn't let me. 

“You’re attending,” she said, not asking.

“It’s unnecessary.”

“You will go,” she replied. “Your uncle will be there. You cannot keep avoiding him.”

Avoiding was generous. I had no interest in family functions that doubled as informal evaluations. I agreed anyway.

My mother had buried one husband already. I did not push her when she wanted to believe being present still mattered.

The party was meant to be harmless. A public space. Wealth gathered under chandeliers and silence. I intended to arrive, greet who needed greeting, and leave unchanged.

Then I noticed someone I didn't expect. Someone calm, he seemed lost, like he wasn't meant to be here, I understood that perfectly. 

He stood near Dean Graham, dressed well but not comfortably, posture careful, eyes alert.

He didn’t belong there, and he knew it. That awareness clung to him more than his clothes did.

When Dean introduced him to people, it was done like presenting an object. This is Jalen. He works for me.

Jalen met my eyes without smiling. I waited for when he would be closer to me, before I started little talks with him. 

“Kristofer Hayes,” I said.

“Jalen,” he replied.

I did not intend to touch him.

I did not intend to lead him anywhere when Dean got distracted and the room shifted. I did not intend to offer him a drink, or stand too close, or speak to him like he wasn’t an employee borrowed for the night.

“You don’t enjoy this,” I said.

He glanced around the room. “Honestly, I don't, I can't wait to leave.”

“Then why are you still here?”

His mouth tilted, not a smile. “Waiting for permission.”

I should have walked away. Instead, I said, “You don’t need it.”

We had a light conversation and it was easy to tell he was into it, I just let everything flow. Pausing when needed and picking up when necessary. 

We headed to the hotel, just five minutes away, it was already quite late, so I couldn't head back home and one way or the other, we smashed. 

By morning, when he checked the time, he panicked and left stating that he was late. 

When he left, I reflected on the night before. I didn’t regret the night. Regret implied excess. What unsettled me was clarity.

He hadn’t been an indulgence. He’d been exposure.

I showered, dressed, and let routine close around me again. Meetings resumed. Men nodded. 

Agreements were made. Nothing changed on the surface.

Then my phone rang.

Lucien.

I answered because ignoring him would be interpreted as weakness.

“You were difficult to reach last night,” he said.

“I was occupied.”

“With what?”

“I don't think that is any of your business, Lucien,” I replied.

There was a pause. He chuckled through the line. 

“You’ve been distant lately.”

“I’ve been careful.”

“Being careful isn’t leadership,” Lucien said. “The organization needs decisiveness. Hunger.”

“It needs stability.”

“It needs someone willing to sacrifice,” he countered. “Emotion is a liability.”

I leaned back in my chair. “If you have something to accuse me of, say it.”

“I’m observing,” he said. “That’s all. Watching. Your restraint reads like hesitation.”

“And your interest reads like greed.”

He laughed softly. “We all want the same thing.”

“Control,” I said.

“Legacy,” he corrected.

The call ended without resolution. That was his tactic. Seed doubt. Let it grow.

I stared at my phone longer than necessary.

Jalen’s face surfaced uninvited. Not his body. His stillness. The way he hadn’t asked for anything.

I called Alex, my assistant. 

“I need you to run a background check,” I said.

“On who?”

“Jalen Brooks.”

There was a pause. “Why?”

I didn’t answer.

“I’ll have it within hours,” Alex said.

When the report arrived, I read it slowly.

Jalen Brooks. Twenty-two. Employed at an elite spa owned by Dean Graham. 

Primary income for his household. Mother undergoing treatment. Sister still in school. A girlfriend. 

A secret lover at work. No criminal record. No debts. No leverage.

A man balancing too many lives with one body.

I felt something tighten, not fear. Recognition.

This was not paranoia. I did not believe he was a threat. I believed he was a variable.

Variables could destabilize systems. Or redefine them.

I closed the file and opened the site of the spa, setting up an appointment for the next day. 

Booking request.

Private session. Full discretion.

Client name: Kristofer Hayes.

Requested staff: Jalen Brooks.

I hit confirm.