24991122 | 2107
Court of the Cherry Blossom | Kagetsu-no-Kami | The Bay
1°17′06.00″ N
103°51′06.12″ E
“You are acquainted with the Shogun Protector of Neo Japan?!” Damian hissed.
They are at the service station.
An attendant meticulously poured her glass.
“I wouldn’t say acquainted.” She said softly, downing a champagne.
She made a face.
“Rosé,” she asked, the man complied.
“Why are you looking like that?” she asked, looking at him.
A borderline horrified expression.
“You could have just walked in,” Damian said.
“He’s more of a… competitor.” She offered, accepting the glass of Rose.
She took a sip.
Sakura.
Licked her lips.
“Why do you even need me for…?” he began when a voice interrupted.
“Miss Tempess.”
She turned, and smiled.
“Your Excellency.” She said, a slight bow.
Damian sucked in his breath.
Every man knows the man approaching them.
“Please, just Mr Lee.” He said, “we don’t stand on ceremonies here.”
“So good to see you again, Mr Lee.” Shirley grinned.
“Singapore is always brighter when you visit.” He replied.
“Singapore is always bright and sunny, Mr Lee.” She said.
He laughed.
“So what brought you all the way here this time? Business? Pleasure?”
“Pleasure.” Shirley said, pulling Damian close. “I like you to meet Mr Wei-Clarke.”
“Oh, Kah kee lang.” Mr Lee said, extending his hand.
A fellow countryman
“Mr Lee.” He said solemnly, shaking his hand.
“I hope, he has been showing you some Singapore hospitality.”
“Oh yes,” Shirley said, her eyes twinkling. “He’s been showing me some of that… Singapore hospitality.”
Damian swallowed.
“I’m sure he did.” He smiled, “oh by the way, my people at the Ministry of Tourism – they love the work you did for us, at the Sands.”
“Thank you, I am glad you liked it,” she replied.
“Drop by Oxley Road if you are in town,” Mr Lee said, “we can talk, over tea.”
“It will be my honor.”
“Enjoy the evening then,” he said, “Mr Wei-Clarke.”
Damian nodded stiffly.
He departed.
“You worked with the Ministry of Tourism?” Damian asked flatly.
“Ancient history, darling.” She gulped down another glass.
He exhaled.
“Right.”
24991121 | 0610
Royal Veranda Suite | The Raffles | People’s Republic of Singapore
1° 17′ 06.0000″ N
103° 51′ 06.1200″ E
He awoke.
She was seated in the armchair.
She was watching the sunrise.
Her legs tucked in.
Wearing his shirt.
“Darling,” she breathed.
She crawled onto the bed.
She pressed her lips to his.
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“You managed to sleep?” she asked.
She knew he didn’t.
His breath trembled.
“I’ll leave them,” he growled.
She shook her head slightly.
“My wife. The kids.” He continued.
She shook her head.
More emphatically.
“I will… for you.” He said, “I – “
“No.” She reached for him.
“We can make it work. She and I—” he said.
“We will share custody, come to an arrangement.”
Shirley reached out and pressed a finger gently to his lips.
“No.” She said softly.
“One more night. That was the deal.”
He swallowed, chest tight.
She closed her eyes, exhaled once,
She opened them again
She smiled.
The warmth in her smile.
The softness in her touch.
The longing in her eyes.
She shifted gracefully, climbing over him,
She slipped his shirt slipped from her shoulders.
“One more night,” she murmured. “May as well make the most of it.”
The room dimmed.
The world narrowed.
She leaned in.
He could not resist.
He slipped willingly into the gentle morning sunlight.
24991122 | 2114
Court of the Cherry Blossom | Kagetsu-no-Kami | The Bay
1°17′06.00″ N
103°51′06.12″ E
“Who’s that talking to Aya-sama?” Damian asked.
Shirley peered out of the corner of her eyes.
She froze, her glass mid-tip.
“Oh no,” she said.
“What do you mean, oh no?” he replied.
“That’s Wayne Gale.” She whispered.
“The Wayne Gale?” he exclaimed, A-lister.
She took hold of his hand.
“Let’s go before he sees us.”
Too late.
He spotted her.
He excused himself from Aya and walked away.
Black suit, shirt unbuttoned at the top.
Sunglasses.
At night.
Sharp designer leather boots.
He was already talking before he reached them.
“Shirley, darling.” He said.
His smile.
Sharper.
“Well,” he said, lowering the sunglasses just enough to look over them,
“this explains why the room suddenly improved.”
Shirley raised her glass.
“Gale,” she said lightly. “Why are you here?”
“I came on Aya-chan’s personal invitation,” he replied. “You look lethal tonight.”
“Sama.” She corrected mildly.
“The same.” He returned.
Shirley’s glass stopped halfway to her lips.
“So,” she said. “What are you working on, with the Lady Arashi?”
He smiled then, “I’m her ambassador, for the Japan-America Heritage and Cultural Exchange.”
“You cowboys still called yourselves that?” Shirley smirked, “Americans?”
“Darling, last I checked, my First Amendment is still enshrined within the Constitution.”
“People should know when they are conquered.” She quipped.
“Ah, Gladiator, one of my favorites.” He returned. “They hadn’t brought us all yet. Not yet.”
“Not yet.” She echoed, unblinking.
“Unlike you,” he said, “how was it, working with that soulless bitch le Fay?”
“Boring.” She replied.
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into practiced charm.
“Why don’t you come work for me, darling? I will make you a star.”
“You can’t afford me.” She smiled.
“I’m hardly boring.” He continued.
“Not interested, Wayne.” She said lightly.
“Well, we’re stealing a bottle later. Something old. Something illegal.” He leaned close, lowering his voice. “You look like someone who hates crowds.”
“I am,” Shirley agreed.
Wayne’s smile sharpened. “Good.”
“Hey, buddy.” Damian said, “the lady’s spoken for.”
Wayne’s gaze flicked to him.
He paused.
Looking him up and down.
Critically.
“…and you are?” he asked.
Damian straightened. “Her date.”
Crowe hummed, unimpressed.
“Damian’s my man,” Shirley said then, looping her arm through Damian’s without looking at him, “for the night.”
Wayne blinked.
Once.
“That’s adorable.” he laughed.
“I am.” Shirley smiled coldly.
Wayne sniffed the air.
“Spicy.” He said, “that’s what I like about you.”
Damian glared at him.
Wayne straightened, sliding his sunglasses back into place.
“Well,” he said lightly, already retreating,
“Enjoy your evening, darlings.”
He strode away.
Stopped.
Turned around.
“And if you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” Shirley said.
Wayne grinned.
“Good talk, darling.”
He turned and melted back into the crowd, already talking, already bored.
Damian exhaled.
Slowly.
She squeezed his arm.
“Was he—”
“No,” she said, downing her drink.
“Did you…?” Damian asked.
“No,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Not even –“
“No.” she reiterated, grabbing another glass.
“You alright?” he asked.
She nodded.
She smiled.
She leaned in.
Her arms wrapped around his.
Her voice soft that only he could hear:
“Thank you, darling.” She whispered.
“Anytime, darling.”
24991121 | 0922
Manor 03 | Changi Seafront | People’s Republic of Singapore
1°20′38.0″ N
103°59′32.0″ E
The manor rose from the coastline.
Pristine glass, masonry and steel.
White walls, dark timber beams, rooms full of sun and sea breeze.
A serene seafront.
She walked barefoot across the polished floors,
Her eyes moving slowly.
Taking everything in.
Damian followed close behind.
He leaned against the timber wood doorway.
She turned around.
“So this is your home.” She murmured.
The gentle breeze.
The splash of the wave against the rock-cliff.
“You really love the sea.” She whispered.
He did not reply, merely watched her.
She drifted through the living room.
The study.
The open-air balcony.
Her fingers brushing surfaces lightly.
A passing touch.
A lingering claim.
She stopped in the doorway of his bedroom.
Large windows facing the sea.
Crisp sheets.
A quietness only old money and old marriages produce.
She stepped inside.
Damian’s breath caught.
Shirley turned, the light behind her outlining her silhouette.
making her look both unreal and heartbreakingly human.
She walked toward the bed,
Slow, deliberate, barefoot.
A soft rustle of fabric.
his shirt still wrapped around her from the night before.
She sat on the edge of the mattress.
The gesture was simple.
She looked up at him.
Her eyes calm, steady, almost gentle.
“This is where she sleeps?”
He froze.
The air changed.
“Yes.” He replied softly.
She nodded,
She slid her hand across the sheets.
Slowly.
Languidly.
“Where is she now?” she asked.
“At her folks’” he replied, “across the Causeway.”
“Good,” she said, “we won’t be interrupted then.”
She crossed her legs and leaned back.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She unbuttoned the white shirt she was wearing.
Slowly.
Languidly.
She slid the fabric down to reveal her bare shoulder.
“Take me here.” She said softly.
He inhaled sharply.
“Shirls…”
She continued, voice barely above a whisper.
“I want this.”
He stood unmoving.
Hesitant.
“You want this.” She stated.
Damian stepped toward her.
The sea breathed through the open windows.
Slow.
Patient.
“We shouldn’t,” he said.
His words lacked conviction.
She watched him closely.
Not seducing.
Not pleading.
Simply seeing.
“We’ve already crossed that line,” she replied softly.
Her fingers curled into the sheets.
Not possessive.
Anchoring.
“This room,” she continued, eyes drifting briefly around them,
“It holds a life that isn’t mine.”
He stopped a pace from her.
“And yet,” she said, lifting her gaze back to him,
“You brought me here.”
Silence pressed in.
She rose from the bed then.
Unhurried.
Bare feet against the floor.
She closed the distance herself.
Her hand came up, rested flat against his chest.
She could feel his heart.
Fast.
Honest.
“I won’t ask you to choose,” she murmured.
“I won’t ask you to leave.”
Her thumb traced once, lightly.
“We have one more day.”
He swallowed.
She leaned in.
Close enough that her breath brushed his jaw.
“Be here,” she said, “just this.”
A pause.
A long one.
“This moment.”
Outside, a wave broke against the rocks.
“It will be ours.”
Damian closed his eyes.
“Only ours.” She whispered,” yours and mine.”
When he opened them, his hand was already at her waist.
Not desperate.
Not rushed.
Deliberate.
She exhaled.
“I won’t forget you.” He whispered.
She smiled.
“Good.”
A sail snapped in the wind.
