8:30 p.m. The white suit had been changed to a new one, black. The fly sat neatly on the neck. He walked calmly into the restaurant called "Beaucoup de Plaisir" and let one of the waiters lead him through the building to his table.
It was the last appointment that he still had today - a conversation with a prospective customer from Germany who wanted to talk to him about his established amusement park - for whatever reason - and actually he wasn't in the least bit interested in it.
He hadn't even seen Mokuba all day and could already guess what the little puss would be when he got home late.
He looked around carefully. The lamps shimmered slightly reddish on a very low level and gave the room a quiet and civilized atmosphere. Several couples were sitting at the tables, exchanging amorous looks or chatting animatedly. Some of them were even engaged in a deep kiss.What kind of bar had he been invited to?
He himself had nothing to do with the subject, which people used to call "love". Love - that was nothing more than disappointment for him and he had sworn that he would never feel anything like that in his life - until now it had worked out well.
The longer he ran after the man in front of him, the more impatient he became. There was a lot of work waiting for him again, which, to his own annoyance, he had not been able to shake off during the day. He needed every minute he could get.
It was all the better when the waiter finally stopped in the middle of the room. He gave him a friendly smile and pointed behind him.
"Monsieur - your table," he said with a slight French accent, "you are already expected."
"Thank you" without even looking at the man, Seto walked past him - and suddenly stopped as if stung by a tarantula when his gaze fell on the place that was assigned to him.Long, blonde hair, streaked with black strands. Poison green eyes, partly covered by the bangs, made up in black, with an expression that couldn't be more penetrating. Full, rose-colored lips with a smile that was so warm and gentle that it somehow made him homesick.
Without noticing him, she talked undeterred with the older man, whom he could easily identify as his business partner and looked so stunning that he almost caught his breath.
The dark red blouse went perfectly with her light hair and the black trousers, which were slightly flared on the legs, completed the impression that she seemed to have style and was not the first time in such a restaurant.
He ran his hands lightly across his face. It was her. No doubt. And if he was sure that he wasn't hallucinating - and he was sure - then Jolina was really sitting in front of his eyes - his childhood friend.
At the young age of 5 she was together with her parents - two well-known stock brokers- moved next to his company estate - at that time still under the management of Gozaburu - and had slowly but surely smuggled her way into his life with her cheeky and cheerful manner.
Besides Mokuba, she was the only one who had dealt with him and had even done the tasks his stepfather had given him together with him. He had liked to be with her and she certainly had been with him - although he had never asked her about it, but it had never been more than a day that she had not sat with him.
He couldn't help but smile a little when he thought of how she had always stood in front of the large gate of his property and told the butler in an honest voice who she was going to. And alas, they hadn't been let in - then they'd made a stink for so long that they could pass.
He gave her another look. There didn't seem to be much left of the little sunshine from back then. Her features were hard - even when she laughed, she looked serious rather than pleased - like a typical business woman.She moved away when she was 9 years old. Her mother died of a breast tumor, and a few months later her father lost his life in a car accident. She had stood right next to it when the green truck had buried the black runabout under it - at first she had not wanted to admit it when she was told that her guardian was dead - it was up to him to teach her and it was not been a very pleasant thing.
He'd never accepted that she'd let him down so easily. She had moved to live with her brother - in Germany - a country that he had always hated like no other. When she had wanted to say goodbye to him, he had slammed the door in her face and chased her to hell - he hadn't been able to accept her decision and had known instinctively that he would never see her again if she left. It was the last time he had cried - since then she had been struck from his mind and he had just hated her - for not being better than everyone else - for disappointing him.