Ah. Weddings.

Where a man and a woman join together in holy matrimony, where a woman's life of servitude to her probably abusive husband begins. The perfect event for someone to get shot - which happened to my uncle by the way, but don't worry I didn't know him very well, he was on my mother's side - or perhaps poisoned with arsenic in the wedding cake. Now that was a nasty one, I remember the bride bawling her eyes out when they came back and told her her husband was dead...of course later we found out that she was the one who did it, but still. Weddings are the perfect grounds for assassination, simply because it's a happy day, a good day, a wonderful occasion. Hence when something bad happens no one wants to believe it at first, and their reaction times slow down by about one third of a second. Which in my world, was a lot.

The name's Hayley by the way. Hayley Blackcroft, eldest child and only daughter of my father. You'd think that this was something that would make him proud, but nope. In the Blackcroft empire it was the men that counted. In our field of business, men hold the upper hand in all categories - skill, speed, strength - or so they claimed. In my opinion women would do just as well, if we were given a chance. But women were sidelined in Blackcroft.

In fact, when I was born my father took it rather badly. Okay, extremely badly. You see, I was first child, and for a first child to be a girl - le gasp! The eldest usually inherited after the father, and one couldn't let the heir be a girl now could we? That would be sacrilege. Which was why my brother was born. I feel quite proud to be honest, to think that a person's existence came to be because of me.

I watched as my first cousin, Louisa walked down the aisle. She looked proud too, but I doubt if it was because she was about to marry the man she loved. Love rarely existed in Blackcroft, much less in marriages. The women marry because that was the only reason they were born, which was to propagate the empire. The men did all the choosing, and most of the time it was either for looks or for...talents in bed.

Louisa was picked probably due to her looks. She had the whole hour-glass thing going big time, and the wedding dress brought out her curves very well. Her hair was sleek, glossy and magazine-worthy. In the outside world, she could have become a model. In Blackcroft, she was a Barbie doll on display, destined to grovel at the feet of Ken.

Who in this case was Jeremy, Louisa's third cousin twice removed. Third cousin meant they had the same great-great-grandparent, but since Jeremy was twice removed, he was two generations older than her. Conclusion, Louisa's great-great-great-great-grandfather was Jeremy's great-great grandfather.

Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it after some time.

Jeremy was only two years older than her though, because our happy family is messed up that way. Blackcrofts always marry other Blackcrofts, to - and I quote - keep the bloodline pure. If you ask me I think someone's been reading too much Harry Potter. But what am I saying, you can't get too much of Harry Potter.

Anyway. This meant I'm blood-related to this nose-picking twenty-year-old guy on my right, as well as that helplessly-sobbing-tears-of-joy, wrinkled-faced woman sitting in the corner. Everyone around is my aunt or uncle or cousin something-removed, and every get-together I discover previously unknown long-lost relatives. I'm just glad that I was born in this generation, and not the early ones, because the early ones had to marry their immediate cousins to maintain the bloodline. The good news was during the fifth or sixth generation they came up with a rule, which was no marrying our first and second cousins of the same generation, or the generation above. Apparently this increases the risk of genetic disorders in your children by about 2 or 3 percent. But you can marry your first cousin if he's twice removed, because that would mean your great-great-grandparent was his grandparent, and our ancestors were of the opinion that this distance was acceptable.

Trust me, you will get the hang of it.

Jeremy was the only son in his family, which meant he would inherit everything. Now I see why Louisa was so pleased. Blackcroft women were typically shrewd and selfish, because that was the only way we could survive in this cutthroat empire, but Louisa was just about the shrewdest and most selfish of them all.

The vows were taken, rings exchanged and the ceremony completed. Dinner was served buffet-style, and the guests mingled around. I stood alone near a table, and was eyeing a particularly delicious-looking crepe when a hand pressed down firmly on my shoulder.

"Hayley." I tried not to flinch.

A harsh, unforgiving slap, and a stinging mark etched on the cheek.

"You will do as you are told."

I didn't have to look, I knew who that voice belonged to. I picked up a plate and placed the crepe on it before turning around.

"Hello father. Care for a crepe?"

My father looked down at me - figuratively and literally. He was a tall man, brutish in his build, with stubble growing above and around his lips. Usually his expression was severe and expressionless, but today he looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable in his tuxedo. My mother wasn't around to help him dress, and I took pleasure in seeing that his bow tie was crooked.

"I expect you to make impressions, Hayley." His voice was a deep bass, traces of the Russian accent still lingering on after the five years he spent working there.

"Good or bad ones?" I enquired innocently.

He said nothing, but his look was enough. "You are of age and must be sent off soon. I will give you to the first man that asks for your hand, and if he is not to your liking - well, too bad."

"Uncaring and straightforward as usual," I nodded. "Don't worry father, this burden" - and I gestured to all of me - "will soon be off your hands."

He walked away. Right. Time for me to snag a man. What we women can do is to at least make sure we marry a good one, so even if we might not be loved we were treated decently. Weddings were usually our hunting ground, with the women trying their best to impress those we thought worthy, and hoping that we would get chosen over the others. It's a real cat-fight sometimes.

"My my, is our little tigress getting married off already?" came a voice from behind me. "But I haven't even ask you out on a date!"

I stiffened. Great, out of the frying pan and into the fire. I turned around.

Damian Blackcroft - really, I don't even know why we have last names, everyone present here is a Blackcroft - stood with one hand tucked into his pockets, a black fedora hat sitting at a jaunty angle on his head. He'd grown quite a lot since the last I saw him, and was now half a head taller than me. His blonde hair was spiked off from his forehead, and his eyes caught me like how they always did.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't him. It was the color of his eyes, blue mixed with green, but mostly blue. It was a beautiful shade, all soft hues and gentle warmth. His eyes alone were 100 over 100. Zoom out and see the big picture however, and it went all the way......down......to.......whoa, I can't even see it anymore, that's a deep fall.

He walked over now, that knowing smirk coating his lips. "Care for a dance, tigress?" That was when I realized that the quartet had struck up a tune.

I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my crepe. "No thanks. And stop calling me that."

"Why not?" He moved closer. "I've always called you that."

I let out a disbelieving snort. "No you don't."

He shook his head with mocking sadness. "You still don't believe me do you?"

"That's because it isn't true."

"And how do you know that?"

I looked him dead in the eyes. "Give it up, Damian. You are not him."

Swallowing the last bite of my crepe I turned back to the table. Oh look, pavlova!

I reached for it but Damian was fast. One hand whipped the plate out of my grasp and set it down on the table, while the other took me by the waist and pulled me near. Next thing I knew we were slow dancing on the floor with the other couples.

By the way, Damian's blood relationship with me is rather complicated, so follow carefully - my grandmother on my mother's side had a sister who married a guy who had a brother who had a child who had Damian.

Got it? Perfect.

Back to the moment. I shot him a glare and tried to push him away, but his grip was firm. Leaning in he whispered near my ear, "Careful, you need to make impressions." He muffled a chuckle.

I leaned away. "Well you're certainly making a bad one."

He kept his lips near my ear. Puberty had done him well, his voice carried a low husky colour that didn't use to be there before. "They say girls are attracted to bad boys. Your thoughts, tigress?"

I snapped. "I said, stop calling me that!"

He gave a breathy chuckle and drew back. He spun me around twice and dipped me, before pulling me up strongly. Our noses almost touched.

I narrowed my eyes. The tune had changed, to some sort of a tango dance. And I might not have been a professional dancer, but my mother was one. That was how she had caught my father's eye in the first place.

Two can play at the game.

I tightened my grip on his fingers and drew myself up straight. Moving my right foot I flicked it sharply to the front, back and to the side, where I promptly drew a lazy circle on the floor. Then I glided to my right, forcing him to move to my left. I was now leading the dance.

Something akin to amusement glittered in his eyes. He took a step backwards with his left, so my right had to move forwards, putting the both of us in a bit of a lunge. The music strummed a sultry chord. He straightened back up, pulled me close, and with his right foot copied the circle I drew, except that his was wider, as if asserting dominance.

"You're not the only one who knows how to dance," he said, arching an eyebrow.

We glided across the floor, eyes fixed on each other's in a challenge.

"Agreed. But I can dance better."

He twirled me, and when he pulled me back I purposely overshot, twirling past him to the other side, where I did a few more fancy tricks before he could reel me in.

He caught me and kept his left foot planted on the floor while his right went with my momentum, sliding forwards. I did exactly the same.

Why yes, something like that, thank you very much. Except I wasn't, well, arching my back in passion.

The melody stopped and I pushed him away immediately. He let me go this time, a knowing smile on his lips. Taking off his hat he bowed low.

"It was a pleasure seeing you again, Hayley."

I was breathing fast from the dance. "Ah well, too bad I can't say the same about you, Damian."

He placed the hat back on, running his fingers around the rim.

"Please, call me Thomas."

And then he backed away into the crowd.

Thomas.

Thomas.

A flashback, a memory.

*

The little girl sat in her room, arms folded as she stared out of the window, trying not to cry. Outside she could hear the bus pulling in below, disgorging a bunch of rowdy boys. Her window was ajar, and their words floated up quite clearly.

"Man did you see that.....and Mantis was so cool, he's like small and green but he can go super-fast! Mantis is the coolest!"

"No, Po's the coolest! He's a fighting teddy bear!"

"Panda you idiot. He's a panda."

"That movie was awesome......."

She let out a sob and slammed the window shut before throwing herself on the bed, crying her eyes out.

It was several minutes later when her door opened with a crack.

"Hayley?" a boy's tentative voice asked.

"Go away," she said, her voice muffled by her pillow. "You got to watch the movie and I didn't. Now go away."

"Look, I'm real sorry, but you're a girl. You can't come out of the manor. You know that."

She bolted up from the pillow and glared at him. "Well that just ain't fair now is it?"

"Isn't. Isn't fair," he corrected. "Well I don't make the rules, so why are you mad at me?"

She went silent. It wasn't his fault and she knew it, but she had to let it out on somebody.

The boy approached the bed slowly. "But anyway. They gave us souvenirs after the movie, and I got one. Here."

His hand came to the edge of her vision. Initially she refused to look, but the temptation was too great.

It was a keychain, and the toy hanging from it was a tigress, poised in a fighter's stance. It was dressed in a yellow tunic and black pants.

The boy looked proud. "I liked her best in the show. She's a girl warrior! She's got those amazing......tofu skills."

She giggled. "I think you meant kung fu. Tofu's for eating, idiot!"

"Oh yeah, I think she eats tofu too! But anyway. I got it. So here you go." He waved it.

She stared at the keychain, stunned. She would love nothing more than to take it.

"But Thomas, what about you?"

He smiled, and pinched her on the cheek.

"Oh, I got my own Tigress right here."

*

By the time I finished my reminiscence Damian had vanished out of sight. I stared, unseeing, at the spot where I had last seen him.

He's not Thomas. He's not Thomas.

That was the problem of knowing twins. You can't really discern one from the other. But I can. I know I can. And I can tell you for sure, that that was Damian, and not Thomas.

I rubbed the side of my forehead. I need a drink. Don't worry, I'm eighteen.....or at least I will be in November.

I saw the bowl of fruit punch on the table and headed for it. I hadn't even managed to taste a sip when another voice called my name.

"Good evening, Hayley." Smooth, dulcet, velvety. Also - masculine.

Will the men of the house please leave me alone for one second?

I sighed, and shot the punch a regretful look. Abandoning it I turned around, ready to fire off some cutting retort.

Oh crap. Out of the fire and into Mount Vesuvius.

I swallowed nervously, and managed a weak smile. "Good evening, Jasper."

My ninth cousin once removed returned the smile, but it was one of pure formality and devoid of any humor. The tuxedo he wore fitted him very well, and he looked extremely at ease in it, as if he was born with a champagne flute in his hand. His skin was a lighter shade and his nose sharper than the rest of us, which made sense since he was descended from the Korean side of the family - four Blackcroft brothers founded this empire, and one had a Korean wife. The others were two Americans and one French. Apparently I have all three ethnicities in me. Reminds me of mixed fruit juice.

He was also single, two years older than me, and extremely dangerous.

I was quite surprised to find him here. From what little I knew about him - unless you counted in the rumors of course, which meant I knew a lot - I had imagined him as the Dracula type, holing up in his bedroom until dusk arrived. Because even though for all intents and purposes he looked like just another gentleman at the wedding, there was something...sinister about him. Something off. Maybe it was his cold black eyes, or pale colourless lips, or the blank mask his face always wore. Or maybe it was something in the way his dark hair had grown out long, until it covered one of his eyes. Jasper rarely spoke, but you could feel his coldness just by his presence. The ghost of a smile always hung around his lips but it was no friendly gesture. Everything he did just seemed silently menacing somehow.

Then there were the rumours.

Jasper had an elder brother named Jonas, and as first child he was going to inherit. But then during one particular assignment, things went wrong and Jonas got killed. The official story was that it was a stray bullet from the rival force, but the whispers that went around were that Jasper took advantage of the confusion to shoot his brother right in the back of his head. Now he had become the only child, and hence, will inherit.

Jasper was also Blackcroft's favourite pick for covert operations. He could slip in and out in seconds, leaving nothing more than his shadow behind, striking fast and true. He had gone on nearly thirty assignments and fifty solo ones, and was the only living Blackcroft that owned a perfect record. No failures.

I had seen him a few times but that was it. Frankly speaking I was rather shocked that he knew my name.

"How has your evening been?" His voice sounded like silk. A very dangerous piece of silk.

"Um. Good. I danced."

"Dancing is good. And the food?"

Was he being genuinely curious? He sure didn't look like it. But his forbidding eyes compelled me to answer.

"I only had the crepe. So far."

"Pity. Try the roast turkey. It's rather fantastic."

"Um. Sure. I'll go get it right now."

"Wait." He placed a hand on my arm and I froze at the contact. Putting down the champagne he gestured at the quartet. "This is a nice song. Shall we dance?"

Two men giving me their attention in the same night? Father would love this. I searched for him, and saw him talking with his friends. When he noticed Jasper and me his eyebrows flew sky-high. He motioned with a jerk of his head for me to pay Jasper full attention.

Yeap, father liked him alright.

I didn't like the idea of dancing with Jasper, but I liked the idea of refusing him even less. So I took his hand and allowed him to lead me in a ballroom dance. It was a slow waltz number so I wasn't about to pull out my arsenal of dance moves here, not that I even wanted to. I felt like a marionette whose strings were in Jasper's hands.

We danced without speaking. Jasper never stopped looking at me, from the beginning to the finish. It was awkward and I kept avoiding eye contact. Unlike Damian, whose hands were rough from all those years of physical training, Jasper's felt as if he had never punched anyone in his life. But then Jasper was the kind of guy who snapped your neck while you slept.

The stiff waltz ended and Jasper let go, bowing as Damian had done, though not as low.

"It was a pleasure dancing with you, Hayley. See you around." He retrieved his champagne and left.

That's...it? I felt oddly disappointed for some reason, and also extremely wary. There was no way Jasper had approached me just for a dance. He was after something - but what? I was a girl, and a young one at that, in her late teens. He was better off courting the bride.

I shook my head. I had gotten too much attention for one night, and I wasn't used to this. For the rest of the wedding dinner I stayed at the back of the crowd, making myself invisible, ignored like how I should be. Lucky for me about an hour after dancing with Jasper my father came to find me.

The minute I saw him I knew something was wrong. He pulled me aside roughly, to where no one could hear us. When he spoke there was urgency and something like anger in his voice.

"Hayley, Eric is missing."

*. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *.

Woots, things are heating up......have any ships sailed yet? This chapter is dedicated to RubixCube89201, whose book "The Good Girl's Bad Boys" was part of the inspiration for the story. Thank you for the book, it was amazing! PARKOMI ALL THE WAYYYY!