TENDER TREACHERY (Mystery Romance): The TENDER Series ~ Book 2

by H. Y. Hanna

The words had come out of nowhere, but as soon as Leah had said them, she knew she had made the right decision. The only decision that could have made her happy. She had no idea what the future held, but suddenly, the thought of the chance that it might be one with Toran was worth every risk.

  Once the decision was made, she couldn’t leave fast enough. Luckily, she was able to use up her leave so that she didn’t have to work out her notice. Two days later, Leah arrived in Singapore with a hastily packed trolley case, the rest of her things having been boxed up in cartons, to be shipped by her flabbergasted flatmate. She hadn’t told Toran that she was coming—she was going to surprise him this time. The surprise he had mentioned in his email had turned out to be two dozen long-stemmed red roses waiting for her on her doorstep in London. He would get his turn when she turned up on his doorstep, she thought with a smile.

  Arriving in Singapore was so different to the last visit. This time, Leah welcomed the blast of hot humidity that enveloped her as soon as she stepped out of Changi Airport. She revelled in the blazing sunshine glinting off the car windows and filtering through the palm trees. And she delighted in the babble of languages around her—Mandarin, Singlish, Cantonese, Malay, Tamil—as she wheeled her case past the taxi ranks. It all had a sense of “coming home”.

  No taxi for her this time, though. When Leah had told her childhood friend, Julia Tan, about her planned return, Julia had insisted on coming to the airport to meet her. And Julia was used to getting her own way, Leah thought with wry affection. Incurably bossy ever since they were little girls together, Julia’s interfering tendencies had gotten even worse now that she was married and a Singapore “tai tai”—the name given to the set of wealthy, pampered trophy wives.

  The pretty Singaporean girl got out of her black Mercedes and swooped down on Leah, managing to stop oncoming traffic, direct her chauffeur, and oversee the loading of luggage, all the while giving Leah a breathless hug and chattering at 100 mph.

  “… and you’ll want to cut your hair, now that you’re going to live here,” Julia said as they settled into the plush back seat of the Mercedes. “You’ll never cope with the humidity like that. I know the perfect guy to do it for you. Josef at the Raffles Place Hair Studio—he’s an absolute darling and he gives the most heavenly head massages as well. You can get it cut really short, like me.” Julia dimpled and indicated her own hair which was in a completely different style to when Leah had last seen her, only a month ago. The punk rock quiff had morphed into a trendy, asymmetrical bob which highlighted Julia’s slanting black eyes.

  “Oh, no, if I cut my hair short, it gets really curly and I end up looking like Shirley Temple,” said Leah with a shudder.

  “Rubbish,” said Julia. “It just needs to be layered or something. Don’t worry, Josef will sort it all out. I’ve made an appointment for you already. This Saturday—the day after tomorrow—at 2 p.m. And we can go to lunch at that new champagne bar on the terrace beforehand.”

  “Julia!” Leah heaved a sigh, torn between amusement and exasperation. It was a familiar feeling. How many times had they had conversations like this when they were in their teens? The embarrassing swimming party that Julia had insisted they attend, the charity marathon that Julia had coerced her into taking part in, the hideous dress that Julia had persuaded her to buy… Not to mention the number of times Julia had fussed over her, like a bossy mother hen. As the quieter girl of the pair, Leah had always been content to be swept along in her friend’s bubbly wake, seeing Julia’s interfering tendencies as endearing instead of annoying. Maybe it was because Leah had grown up motherless and having someone care enough to want to direct her life, even if it was her only-slightly-older, busybody best friend, was a comforting feeling.

  Still, she wasn’t a shy fourteen-year-old anymore and, for a moment, Leah was tempted to make a sharp retort—to remind Julia that she was a grown woman now who didn’t need her life arranged for her. But as she looked at her friend’s eager face, Leah softened. She knew Julia meant well and in any case… well, old habits died hard. She was used to going along with Julia’s madcap schemes. And she really had been thinking of getting a haircut. Since she didn’t know any stylists in Singapore, she might as well take advantage of Julia’s appointment.

  “All right,” Leah said. “But I’m not promising anything. I might just get an inch trimmed off and that’s it.”

  Julia made a moue, but her attention was diverted to something outside the window. Leah followed her gaze. They were passing over the waters of Marina Bay on the East Coast Parkway, with the huge wheel of the Singapore Flyer looming up on their left. Leah still found it strange seeing these new additions to the Singapore skyline. It had all changed so much since the days she had lived here as a teenager.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come and stay with me for a few days—until you settle in and stuff?” asked Julia. “You’ll be rattling around by yourself in your father’s villa.”

  Leah shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m moving into a new place—it’s my old home. It’ll be good to get used to living back there straight away. And the rest of my things won’t arrive from London for a few weeks anyway…”

  “What about dinner tonight?” said Julia. “Arnold’s away at a conference. We could have a real girls’ night out!”

  Leah hesitated. “Well… actually, I was planning to see Toran tonight.”

  “Oh, right… Toran.” Julia gave her a sideways glance. “So… things are getting pretty serious there, huh?”

  “Well, he’s sort of the reason I’ve moved back to Singapore,” said Leah dryly. She sighed. “But to be honest with you, I don’t know. I don’t know how serious it is, where it’s heading, whether it will work out. I… I hope I haven’t made a mistake, giving up my whole life in London to come here for him.” She glanced at Julia. She knew her friend had never taken to Toran, especially after how he had treated Leah when they were in their teens.

  At fourteen, Leah had been wrenched from Singapore and sent to boarding school in the U.K. by her father. She had clung to Toran’s promise that he would keep in touch, that he wouldn’t let her father separate them, that he would never forget her. It was all she had to keep her going, as she faced a new life in a strange country alone. But instead, she had never heard from Toran again—he had ignored the many messages she sent him and it was obvious, from what Julia had told her, that he had quickly forgotten her and moved on.

  The memory of his betrayal still brought a stab of pain now, deep in Leah’s heart. She knew that was twelve years ago and they were both grown-ups now. Her last visit to Singapore had shown her that—despite what had happened in the past—there was still something between them. Something special. Something worth taking a chance on again. But she knew that a part of her still hadn’t really forgiven Toran and a part of her still struggled to trust him.

  “I saw his ex-fiancée the other day, you know,” said Julia.

  Leah felt her heart skip a beat. “Oh?”

  “Angela Chan—that’s her name. She was coming out of some store in Wisma Atria. I recognised her because I saw her with Toran at the Singapore Writers Festival last year—she was hosting one of the events. She works for one of the women’s magazines, I think, and is involved with the Arts Council. Anyway, I was a bit surprised when I saw her this time ’cos she looked so different.”

  Leah resisted the urge to ask “Is she pretty?” Instead, she said, “What do you mean—different?”

  Julia frowned. “I don’t know… like a bit tired and skinny—”

  “That’s rich coming from you,” chuckled Leah, looking pointedly at Julia’s slim figure, clad in a tight tennis dress. Like most Asian women, Julia had hardly gained a pound since her teens and could still pass for someone ten years younger.

  Julia stuck her tongue out and they laughed. The car slowed and pulled up in front of a large Art Deco villa, surrounded by a lush tropical garden. Leah looked at her old home. It was strange to
think that she was coming back to live here, when she had spent the last twelve years doing everything she could to stay away.

  Half an hour later—after managing to parry Julia’s attempts to rearrange some furniture, unpack her case, hire a gardener, and restock the pantry—Leah sent her friend on her way. She shut the front door with a sigh of relief. Much as she enjoyed Julia’s vivacious company, it was nice to have some peace and quiet at last, and have the house to herself.

  She glanced at the windows. Dusk had set in and it was dark outside. Leah went around the house, drawing the curtains and lowering the blinds, then pulled her trolley case towards the bedrooms. She hesitated outside her old room. The last time she had returned to Singapore, she had been shocked to discover that in the twelve years she had gone, her father had left her bedroom so intact that it was almost like a shrine to her fourteen-year-old self—from the pop star posters on the walls to the dusty pile of school textbooks on her desk. Leah turned resolutely away and set her case in the guest bedroom. Time to make a fresh start.

  She opened the case, wondering if she should bother unpacking the small collection of clothes she’d brought. Her hands paused amongst her clothes as she heard a rustle. She pushed her cosmetic bag out of the way and caught sight of a bundle of folded paper, held together by an old rubber band. Her father’s letters. She had hastily thrown them into the bottom of the case when she was packing back in London. Slowly, she lifted them out, unsnapped the rubber band, and spread them on her lap.

  Leah thought of Ah Song’s strange questions and wondered again what he had meant by them. She rifled through a few of the letters, her eyes skimming over the words. But she could feel her mind fighting it, trying not to take the sentences in. She’d thought, as an adult, that she had made peace and moved on. But maybe she hadn’t quite forgiven her father, after all, and she wasn’t ready yet to hear what he wanted to say.

  Leah sighed and gathered the letters up again. She would read them when she felt ready. Anyway, Ah Song had said that it was nothing important—so it wasn’t as if she had to urgently decode the letters for state secrets or something!

  Putting the letters back into the bottom of her case, Leah changed into a fresh set of clothes. Then she glanced at the clock, wondering if she should ring Toran. No, I’ll go straight to his place and surprise him, she decided with a smile.

  A thrill went through her at the thought of finally seeing him again. Leah imagined the way his brilliant green eyes would darken and smoulder, the feel of his arms around her, his lips on hers… and she shivered with anticipation. Digging through her handbag, she found the address that Toran had mentioned in an email a few weeks ago and called a taxi service. Forty minutes later, she watched curiously as the taxi pulled up in front of an exclusive apartment block.

  Leah paid the driver, then stood on the pavement, her eyes travelling to the top of the luxury residential tower in some surprise. She had never seen where Toran lived—the last time she was in Singapore, he had been in hiding and staying with a friend. Somehow, she hadn’t expected this gleaming high-rise to be his home.

  It was a naïve assumption, really, based only on her memory of Toran as the quiet boy from the humble background who had gotten into her expensive private school on the strength of his academic scholarship alone. But just because his parents could only afford a modest lifestyle didn’t mean that Toran had automatically followed in their footsteps. And just because he didn’t show off his wealth didn’t mean that he had nothing to show. She should have known that Toran wouldn’t feel the need to flaunt his wealth or make a statement. He had always exuded a quiet confidence that set him apart from other men.

  But there was still a lot about him that she didn’t know, Leah thought uncomfortably, as she walked up to the main doors. A woman was just coming out in a cloud of expensive perfume and Leah took the chance to slip through into the lobby. She walked over the polished marble floors to the bank of lifts. From the soft tinkle of crystal beads in the chandeliers above to the quiet swish of the lift doors opening, everything about this place whispered class and money.

  Toran’s apartment was on the top floor and Leah glanced at the mirror in the lift as she rode up. Her blue eyes, smudged with dark shadows underneath, looked enormous in her heart-shaped face, and although her cheeks were flushed with excitement, she looked tired. She hadn’t slept much in the last few days and while jet lag hadn’t set in yet, she could feel it nipping at her heels. Her dark brown hair, which normally fell in waves past her shoulders, was slightly flattened now by Singapore’s relentless humidity. Maybe Julia was right about that haircut, after all, Leah thought wryly. She had done the best she could with make-up and hairbrush before she left the villa, but she certainly wasn’t looking her best. Leah gave a rueful smile. She hoped that absence made the eyes grow fuzzier as well as the heart grow fonder.

  The top floor of the tower block was dominated by two penthouse apartments, each sweeping across one side of the building. Toran’s was in the east corner. Leah stopped outside his door and took a deep breath, then reached out and rang the doorbell, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.

  Quick footsteps approached the other side of the door. Leah held her breath, her lips parting in anticipation. There was the rattle of a chain, the sound of a lock turning, and then the door swung open.

  “Toran!” Leah stepped forwards, a wide smile on her face. “I bet you never guessed that—”

  She froze.

  A young woman stood in the doorway, her long, black hair framing a delicate face with beautiful, slanting, almond-shaped eyes. She was wearing a bathrobe and looked like she had just stepped out of the shower.

  “Toran isn’t here,” said the young woman in a soft, pretty voice. “I’m Angela. Can I help you?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Leah took a step back. Her voice jammed in her throat. She had to fight the overwhelming urge to turn around and run back to the lifts.

  “I… I’m a friend of Toran’s,” she said finally, her voice sounding abnormally high. “I’m sorry, I think I should just go—”

  “Oh no, come in… please!” Angela opened the door wide.

  Leah was about to say no when something in the other girl’s face—a silent plea in those almond eyes—made her hesitate. Before she realised what was happening, she was being escorted into the apartment and the door was being shut behind her.

  “Would you like a drink? I was just making myself some tea.” Angela led her through the spacious lounge. They walked past floor-to-ceiling windows showing a sweeping view of the Singapore city skyline to a modern kitchen gleaming with stainless steel appliances. Leah perched uncomfortably on one of the stools by the breakfast counter and noticed with a pang of jealousy that Angela moved around the place with familiar ease.

  Leah felt like her head was spinning with questions. Why was Angela here? Was she living here? Why hadn’t Toran ever mentioned it? Were they back together?

  A part of her vehemently rejected the idea that Toran might have lied to her, that he might have been keeping Angela’s presence in his life a secret. No, not Toran. Not the way he had been these past few weeks, the way they had grown so close…

  But another part of her whispered that she was the one who had kept him at arm’s length and insisted on being given space. She was the one who had chosen not to stay in Singapore and take a chance on their relationship. Maybe this explained Toran’s strange silence recently. Maybe he had decided that Leah was a lost cause. Maybe he had gotten tired of waiting for her, especially with another beautiful, willing woman—an ex-lover at that—hovering here around him…

  “Would you like tea as well?” Angela asked. “Or I can make you coffee if you prefer—”

  “Um… whatever you’re having is fine,” said Leah, watching as the other woman carefully poured boiling water into two earthenware mugs filled with green tea leaves.

  She accepted a steaming mug from Angela and raised it to her lips, inhaling the fragr
ant scent of jasmine—mainly because it gave her something to do. There was a long, strained silence in the kitchen. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Leah mentally berated herself for accepting the offer of tea, which trapped her now in this awkward situation.

  Finally Angela gestured vaguely and said, “Toran’s off following some lead. He might not be back until late.” She gave an affectionate laugh. “He’s pretty single-minded when he’s on the trail of something.”

  “Um… so do you live here?” Leah couldn’t help asking in spite of herself.

  “Yes. Well, temporarily anyway. Toran’s my fian—I mean, my ex-fiancé…” Angela gave a sad smile. “It’s still hard getting used to saying that. We’d almost set the date, you know. I thought I’d be moving in here soon… ” She looked around the apartment with a wistful expression.

  “Oh. I’m… I’m sorry,” said Leah.

  Angela glanced down. “I still keep hoping that Toran might turn around and say that it was all a terrible mistake, that he wants us to get back together… I don’t know… I mean, I know he’s just being kind. I had this terrible fight with my parents and I can’t bear to go home right now so it’s nice of him to let me stay here. Still, I thought, maybe with me being here, he might realise…” She trailed off, then sighed. “I’m probably just being silly. I guess I should at least be grateful that he was honest with me. Better than to have gone through with it and then told me later that he never really loved me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did love you…” Leah protested faintly.

  Angela gave that sad smile again. “But not enough, obviously.” She gazed across the living room, and out of the windows, a distant expression in her eyes. “I always felt that Toran held a part of himself back; that there was a part of him I couldn’t reach.” She shook her head and sighed. “Sometimes I wondered if there was… someone else… Oh, I don’t mean that Toran was unfaithful. More like someone in his past… that he couldn’t forget.”