It took almost three weeks to assemble costumes, meet the counsellor, and collect enough information on Randy and his wife.

Ms. Musa was as good as her word, determined to help the son of her best friend and provided us with all the necessary resources - she'd make sure everything we did remained under the bridge, hidden from plain sight and from any accusations coming our way.

In the meantime, I had cleared as much room as possible from matchmaking requests. Working around the clock, Celia and I managed to complete and fast-track several cases to give us time to focus on Randy.

Matching an heiress. Check. Finding a match for a well known music producer and film star. Check. Creating a file on a business tycoon. Check.

Somehow, we managed to tick off more cases and requests than we had months prior. But we paid a heavy price for it with sleep schedules more messed up than usual and my bank account feeling the numerical digits exit as I started ordering more groceries and takeout - the in-house chefs and kitchens in the apartment complex cost a leg and an arm.

Frankly, I liked my limbs too much to sacrifice them to a five star meal.

I'd settle with a different flavour or brand of instant noodles a day or the same leftovers for five days straight before allowing myself to even consider a meal prepared by the acclaimed chefs hired by Ms. Zhao.

And after three weeks, "The red queen" yacht incident (as I've so subtly codenamed it) was slowly beginning to die down in the press but any appearance made by the ex-fiancée brought a pack of paparazzi hungry for comments and her thoughts on the matter.

Subtle but still obvious, they're still out to paint Zander as the bad guy. Making the President's son a paragon of scandal made the President seem politically vulnerable and lacking discipline; the message was explicit, if the son was a black sheep then how much more tainted was the father?

Is this why you couldn't do anything, Mr. Nolan? You managed to sweep as much of the first incident under the rug but this, this was of Zander's own making.

Without saying a word to anyone, including Celia, I had contacted the President during those three weeks. I needed answers to the questions that kept bubbling up and bursting.

I had shocked myself with the spurt of confidence I possessed when I sent messages via text. I had panicked, shrieked, and nearly fainted at the sheer sight of the man when he showed up unannounced at my apartment but now...now I was dating his son.

And before I can let myself be drawn into thoughts of surrealism, I needed to grab hold of reality and face the facts because running away from anything now meant running away from Zander, and I was too deep into this to cower back.

I was too deep into him.

The President, despite his schedule, position and time always responded - I had more answers than I thought I would ever get.

All my inclinations were spot on. If matchmaking had taught me anything, it was that parents concealed from their kids as much as their children concealed from them.

The end result?

A relationship as delicate as glass that could easily crash into hundreds of broken pieces. And sometimes, when the concealed truth is picked up, it's as sharp as any shard that cuts into skin.

Zander may never trust his father for the loss of support but the President was in a bind. It wasn't so much a matter that he wouldn't help, he simply couldn't.

He might not have been able to tell me everything - probably from a disclosure clause - but he told me enough.

Enough to know that the President cared and that the resources passed onto Ms. Musa to handle the situation, were dealt by him. Even with all the power he wielded, there were far too many eyes watching him but like any man at the top, he had his methods and knew what back doors to take.

And since becoming aware of this, I still wondered when I looked into Zander's alighted green eyes, did he know?

For all it's worth, he's proven that he's smarter than anyone in the room but acted in a way that suggested he could make it appear that he wasn't.

All I saw, was Zander with a lopsided grin and a boy who loved to live without inhibitions, where he got to choose to be free behind the looming shadow casted by his father.

Maybe he knows but wants to form a partition? There's a possibility that being casted aside was a cry for help? Something he did for himself as a means to break away from a set narrative - Because it's obvious that they'll tell his story with or without him.

As I mull over this in my room, I think back to that time at the mall and Zander's pained expression. His desperation hidden underneath the flirtation and easy going smile around me. And the anger simmering beneath his conversations with his father.

"How much are you hurting?" I asked aloud, my room providing no answer.

Grabbing my phone, I text the man on my mind:

Where are you?

It only takes a few minutes before the notification sound goes off.

Rooftop pool.

"Him and swimming pools," I muttered before releasing a grunt as I roll out of bed and throw on a bathing suit.

In the midst of all our plans, Ms. Musa had barged in on my closet one day during a visit to pass on documents and had immediately ordered a new set of everything from underwear to hats.

I was probably more fashionable than half the human population at this moment, emerging from the 'dark side' as she artfully put it and finally seeing the light.

And to think, I was in electric fuzzy socks just last month.

Genuinely loving her role as fairy godmother, she had smiled elegantly while flipping through items and tossing aside my entire wardrobe before gifting me with a new closet of clothing any woman who reads a fashion magazine would envy.

Glancing at my reflection in the mirror now, I begrudgingly admit that her taste is impeccable.

I had admired her taste during our tête-à-tête, and I admire it all the more for making my subpar to barely inadequate fashion...well, on par.

Placing a matching pale yellow set of shorts and buttoned top over my swimsuit, I slide my feet into white sandals and make my way to the rooftop swimming pool.

Unlike the pools on the lower levels, the rooftop pool was actually a cluster of different pools with a main infinity pool and a few lap pools and natural pools to go with the resort vibe of the place.

The one thing about living amongst the rich and famous, was that the building was an architectural and technological wonder - they didn't settle for second best.

The rooftop swimming pool wasn't just an open-concept pool but had a high rise retractable glass ceiling that could glide up into a dome shape or back onto its sides in the summer. Resulting in a pool that was accessible every day of the year, with the one way window glass offering a scenic view of the city's skyline.

Coming up to the correct floor, I step into the lush greenery surrounding the pool, exotic plants and flowers hanging and curving in every direction but never once overstepping the curtailed boundary set by the rooftop's design.

My eyes scan the area, noticing a few notable faces lounging underneath the shade of massive tiki umbrellas but none of them were Zander.

It's only when I hear the faint call of my name that I jerk my head to one side and follow the sound.

Coming closer, I find Zander leaning against a pool ladder in a shallower part. His hair was dripping with beads of water dotted all over his face.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked lightly, lowering myself down to sit by the edgy of the pool. Placing my sandals aside, I dip my feet into the crystal chlorine water.

"I think that's obvious, Cat. I'm out here swimming."

Eyeing him suspiciously, I tilt my head and look at him intently. "And I can obviously see that. But why are you here swimming when you're normally working or being an idiot with Patrick?"

Frowning at being called an idiot, Zander splashes a handful of water at me. "Real mature," I said acidly.

"If I recall, you're terrified about being thrown into a pool. I can still make that happen."

Narrowing my eyes into slits, I openly glare at his devious smirk. "Stop avoiding the question. And you wouldn't dare."

Shrugging, Zander moves closer causing the water to ebb in the direction of his movements. "I'm not and yes, yes I would dare."

"Can you stop being..." I trailed, my irritation halting my ability to come up with the right word.

"Stop being what?" He asked, his tone full of amusement.

"Insufferable!"

All I see within the nine seconds it takes Zander to haul me off the edge and dump me into the pool, are the bright afternoon rays of the sun beyond the glass ceiling before my vision is blurred, my eyes burning from the chlorine.

Breaking to the surface, my nose feels as if it's been doused in acid and clogged. It takes me a moment to catch my breath and overcome the searing pain attacking my pupils and nose.

Flicking my hair away from my face, I give Zander my best menacing stare. "Seriously?"

"You said I wouldn't dare which is the same as doubting, so I simply proved you wrong."

"That's your logic? And you still haven't answered my question," I said pointedly, emphasizing the last sentence.

Dropping my gaze to assess myself, I frown when I look down. My poor outer fit is drenched and considering the fact that this conversation seems like it'll take place with us submerged in water, I start undressing while remaining in the pool.

"I'm just collecting my thoughts and thinking about-" Zander suddenly goes silent but I'm too caught up in unbuttoning my top to look up.

"About what?" I asked. Finished with the top, I manage to slide or rather, flow out of my bottoms with the grace of an amateur synchronized swimmer.

"About what?" I asked again but this time I look up and catch Zander's jaw going slack, his gaze intensely soaking me in.

Rolling my eyes, I snap my fingers and draw his attention. "Excuse me, Mr. Nolan. Eyes up here. This isn't your first rodeo."

"Actually, I've never been to a rodeo," he murmured, tearing his gaze from its course and looking directly into my light brown eyes.

I could see visible want and desire there but refused to budge an inch until I got what I set out for.

"You know what I mean. Now explain yourself. About what?"

Sighing, he rests his back against the pool's fibreglass with eyes casted into the water. "About what we're about to do next."

"You mean Randy and his wife?" I asked surprised. I didn't think Zander thought much of it.

"No. I'm talking about the whole world finding out about you."

Scrunching my eyebrows, I stick out my bottom lip. "They're not going to find out about me being a matchmaker."

"But you won't be able to be what you are...who you are now."

Closing my eyes briefly, his words finally click into place and I glance up at him. "Zander. I already considered something like this happening from the beginning."

I'm suddenly chronically aware of how close we are, every feature etched with worry on his face clear for me to see.

He brushes a thumb against my cheek and we simply stand there, the hypnotic effect of the water mingling with the warm glitter of sunbeams filtering through the glass.

"And you're okay with this?"

Smiling faintly, my fingers curl around the hand resting against my cheek. "It's a little too late to ask me something like that, don't you think?"

There's just a millisecond of tension where everything seems suspended before he starts kissing me frantically with what feels like ruthless affection.

We break apart once just for me to wrap my arms and legs around him, and Zander places me back onto the surface of the pool's edge so I can be at a higher angle that's adjacent to his face.

Groaning, my body instinctively shudders when I stop kissing him. It takes more effort than I'd like to admit for my eyes to flutter open and I let my forehead rest against his.

"Zander, we can't be doing this," I whispered.

"Last I checked, kissing was a part of the dating criterion."

"Yeah, you've made me aware of the concept."

"Then I take that as a yes?"

Smiling at his playful tone, I lean back, away from him. "No, I mean we can't be doing this because for once, I came here to swim and we have a mission to complete."

Resting my hands against his shoulders, he gives me a frown, sulking. "Do you have to swim now?" Mumbling, his eyes zero in on my lips again.

"Yup." I take this as my golden chance and press down on his shoulders till his head dunks into the water.

Coming up, he gives me a caustic look and I merely shrug with indifference. "Payback."

But before he can retort, I tilt his chin upwards and kiss him senseless until he relaxes and then quickly make a run for one of the other pools and looking back once, I catch Zander with a dazed expression from being left hanging.

Ha. Like I was gonna let him make me feel like a flustered fool forever. It was nice to see that his body reacted as honestly as mine.

Taking a real swim in one of the natural pools, the two of us meet afterward by the entrance where Zander hands me a towel and my discarded clothes.

Returning to my apartment, we stop dead in our tracks by the door with water pooling onto the hardwood.

"I don't think this wig goes with my complexion?"

"That's what you're worried about? May I remind you, I'm the one with a fake moustache pretty much glued to my face."

"Erm guys?" I questioned, my voice feeble.

"Yeah?"

"What?"

"Why is Celia the one with a moustache and Patrick wearing a red wig?" Zander asked curtly, equally as confused and amused as I was.

"I can't do a moustache man, this clean shaven beautiful face of mine can't be tampered with. You know that," Patrick said factually, looking at each one of us like we should already be aware of this.

"Red simply isn't my colour," Celia said cooly, following up on Patrick's explanation.

Shaking my head, I take stock of their looks deciding that they looked more like a comedic duo then a secretary and office worker. "Right..."

"Don't judge me. I make an excellent Earl," Celia said coldly, reading my thoughts.

Raising a brow, I can't help the snort I release. "Earl? You named your character after your uncle's dog?"

"He's a loveable bulldog and better than the second dog's name...Xanthan."

"Like the gum?" Zander interjected.

Smiling through lips formed into a thin line, Celia grimaces. "I am sorry to say it's true and a name chosen while under the influence."

"Which one of your uncles is this?" Patrick asked.

"My uncle, Dar. Anyways, my character Earl is an under developed man in his late twenties to early thirties who likes his coffee weak, flirts with one of the assistants, and gets the job done after wasting at least fifteen minutes doing nothing but absorbing company gossip."

Breathless after her run down, I have to physically shut Zander's and Patrick's mouths that were hanging open.

"Is she for real?" Zander asked me, recovering quickly.

"You two are looking at a professional," I replied smoothly.

Nodding at the doubt on their faces, Celia slings an arm around each of them. "I'm a matchmaker who is a master of disguises. You're in good hands, boys."

"Okay but this red wig isn't my colour either," Patrick droned, adding after a beat, "but I think Zander could easily get away with it." The sly grin on his face is unmasked and Zander starts scowling.

"Now, now. Play nice. And I have a better idea," I said sternly.

Three sets of eyes follow me as I pull out a piece of paper with assigned roles. Zander grins when he sees its contents while Celia and Patrick go deadly silent.

"We're..." Patrick began, eyes still lingering on the paper.

"Playing a couple. Seriously?" Celia muttered under her breath but we all hear her.

Giving her a pointed look, I raise a brow. "You're a master after all. You need to be as close to that counselling room with Randy and his wife as you can physically get."

"So I have to play the part of someone waiting outside for a consultation?"

"Exactly."

"With Patrick?"

The man in question eyes her suspiciously. "Why am I sensing that, that was an insult?"

"And give up moustached Earl?"

"Celia," I said with an air of exasperation.

Raising a hand in defeat, she silently begins to pick at the moustache attached to her face before squirming. "Oh my xanthan gum! Guys! I think it's stuck!"

"I thought you said you were an expert?" Patrick drawled corrosively, a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth.

"I am! Now help me take this thing off before you end up playing the role of the wife and I end up being your husband."

"You know...I think we might manage if that's the case."

"Patrick!" Celia growled, giving up on him and turning to me.

Sighing, I head for the bathroom before hollering back, "Let me go grab tweezers."

Observation: this is going to be one long undercover mission.
*********

A/N: "flustered fool forever" is one of my greatest alliteration moments 🤡✌🏼