Disclaimers: I do not own the 39 Clues.
Chapter 3
London, England
Amy inhaled the cold London air deeply. She was more than happy to get off of her six-hour flight across the Atlantic Ocean.
Because she had the Madrigal agent book such a last-minute flight, Amy was wedged between an obnoxious tourist and a screaming toddler. The guy, who introduced himself as Randy, ranted on about how excited he was to visit the Big Ben. He was oblivious to Amy's attempts to block him out with headphones. However, that did not muffle the fussy child's loud whines. She spent the six hours restless, and now dark circles plagued her eyes.
After picking up her suitcase, Amy stepped outside and waved down a taxi.
A sleek black cab pulled over by the curb. Amy dragged her luggage into the trunk, and promptly seated herself in the passenger side.
The interior of the car did not match the shell. Cheap black leather-covered with nicks and cuts lined the sunken seats, worn down by previous riders. The car reeked with cigarette smoke, and glancing over at the driver explains the pungent smell. He had a scruffy beard, gray eyes, and an impatient look.
"Where may I take you, miss?" He asked glumly, tapping his foot on the gas pedal.
Amy glanced uneasily at the grubby man. If it weren't so late, she would have gotten out and hunted down another taxi.
"Kabra estate, please."
The driver stepped on the gas and sped onto the street. He tossed the remaining butt of cigarette out of his window. He immediately lit another one, and held the rancid white stick between his lips as he put his hand back on the steering wheel.
"You don't seem like the type." The driver suddenly said, filling the air with the acrid stench of tobacco. He let out a puff of white smoke.
Amy raised her eyebrow in confusion. The man continued.
"You know, practically everyone in London knows the young Mr. Kabra, wealthy and handsome. Those starry-eyed girls are dropping at his feet by the dozen. It's like he doesn't even see them."
He cast Amy a side glance.
"I hope you're not one of them?"
Amy frowned as the driver prodded her with questions. She contemplated, not wanting to reveal too much.
"No, we're old acquaintances."
The taxi driver nodded. Sensing that his customer does not want to talk, the cab driver fell silent.
Amy was thankful when the guy stopped with the dreaded questions. The last thing she wanted to do was to have a nosy taxi driver getting a dip of her personal life.
For the remainder of the drive, Amy focused hard to keep her dinner down as the repulsive odor made her gag. The drive was lengthy, as the Kabra mansion lies in the outskirts of London.
Finally, a large gold gate appeared in the distance. The outline of a castle-sized mansion was visible. Amy wondered just how many servants, maids, cooks, and gardeners are needed to tend the large estate. Compared to any other mansions she had seen, they were only a fraction of the huge manor's size that towered in front of her.
The taxi stopped short by the iron wrought gate. An elaborate "K" was etched onto the middle, finished with intertwining gold serpents.
Amy tossed the driver a 50 pound note, not bothering to ask for change. She hurried out of the cab, grabbed her suitcase out from the back. The fresh air outside was a relief. Amy took a big breath, clearing her lungs.
She walked towards the gate. A small fingerprint scanner was concealed just under the curve of the largest snake.
Amy placed her right index finger over the secluded sensor. After a moment, a green hologram popped out. It read in electric green letters Agent Amy Cahill, Madrigal. It was followed by a beep of confirmation and a click of the gate unlocking.
Amy walked along the paved path towards the door. She saw the white rose shrubs, already starting to wither in the cold. A breeze picked up the faint scent of the dying roses. The sickly sweet smell reminded her of him.
When she reached the grand mahogany doors, she raised her arm and knocked firmly on the wood.
Just as Amy began to lower her arm, the door swung open, revealing a tall man, amber eyes filled with surprise.
Ian stood there, leaned on the frame, and gave Amy a smirk.
"Well, hello to you."
Amy crossed her arms nervously. Although he looked more worn out since she last saw him, he definitely had not lost the attitude.
"Hi. So are you just going to let me stand here and freeze outside?"
Ian's eyes lit up with amusement.
"No, of course not," He signaled as a butler appeared silently. "Bickerduff, get a room ready for Miss Cahill."
Bickerduff obediently carried Amy's luggage and vanished around the corner.
Amy then followed Ian into the mansion.
He led her through the twisting halls. The dimly illuminated paths were adorned with priceless paintings, from Raphael to Andy Warhol.
She admired the works of art as they progressed deeper into the house.
"I've decided to continue the art business. It requires a lot of attention, but with all the customers and contacts, it's worth all the work."
Amy didn't say anything, only gave a small nod.
Ian then stopped short at a room.
"This is your room." He pushed open the door and exposed a lavish gold decor and floor-to-ceiling windows. She would have enjoyed herself if it wasn't for the traitor that stood next to her.
"I'm glad you came to visit, Amy. I do hope you are going to stay for a while?"
Amy opened her mouth in protest.
"But I-"
"Oh, I can contact your boss and excuse you from work for some time." He leaned in, and lowered his voice down to a whisper.
"I'll see you tomorrow, love."
With that, he turned around and melted back into the hall.
Amy walked out of the bathroom, feeling more awake after washing her face.
The bright morning sun seeped through the golden drapes of her room. She gathered her hair up in a messy bun and made her way downstairs. Navigating through the hallway was like going through a maze. She had to ask several servants before finally entering the grand dining room.
Around the large glass table were three people. Ian sat on the left, dressed in his usual "casual" attire of a beige sweater and black pants. Across from him, a female version of Ian sat there, carefully inspecting her flawless fuchsia manicure. Natalie shot her a glance and looked at her outfit in disapproval. She mumbled an unheard insult under her breath, not bothering to greet Amy.
Amy's face burned crimson with embarrassment. Her plain lavender t-shirt and jeans were out-of-place in the formal setting of their breakfast.
Trying desperately to contain her embarrassment, she looked at the last person who she did not recognize.
The woman had lustrous brown hair, flowing down her back in gentle curls. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were the color of honey, and her face was defined, with delicate nose and thin lips. The woman looked like a queen, while Amy felt like a mere peasant next to her.
Ian averted his gaze to Amy.
"Morning, Amy," Ian said.
Three pairs of eyes trained on her.
The brunette woman walked up to Amy, a genuine smile on her face. Her overwhelmingly white teeth was blinding.
"I'm Reina, Ian's fiancée." Her syrupy sweet voice trickled through the air.
There were so many things wrong with that sentence.
She gave Amy a friendly hug and a kiss on each cheek. Amy winced in discomfort, not used to the amiable greeting from a stranger.
"Nice to meet you," she managed to mutter without hissing.
Not only was Ian's fiancée gorgeous, but overly friendly. Natalie was trying hard not to laugh, and Ian managed to keep his amusement under control.
"She's raised in France, so it's a habit," Ian explained.
Reina looked at Amy with interest.
"So you are Amy Cahill! I've heard so much about you from Ian," Reina said excitedly as she dragged Amy and seated the redhead next to her.
Servant began to roll in with plates of delicacy. Pancakes, fruits, bread, rolls, and crepes were placed on the table. Amy picked up a slice of warm artisan bread top with a strange purple jelly. She placed some exotic fruit on her plate.
A servant came around with drinks. Amy graciously accepted a cup of coffee, while Ian grumbled about his tea being too sweet.
"I can't believe I finally get to meet you," Reina said. "Ian tells me about how wonderful you are. It's a shame that you guys didn't work out."
Amy clenched the jaw. The woman was oblivious to the tension in settling in the air. Reina continued to rant about how lucky she was to have Ian as her fiancée.
"...he's so sweet! I remember that time when I opened my door and oh my, those roses..."
As breakfast carried on, Amy tuned herself out of Reina's constant monologue. Natalie was turning slightly pink from annoyance, while Ian munched on a blueberry crêpe inattentively.
Unable bear the rant, Natalie rose from her seat with irritation.
"Well, if you don't mind, I am going to call up the catering company, start to send out those invitations, and then hit Harrods. I'm sure Amy and Ian have the time to enjoy the little adventures." Natalie said in a clipped tone. "Cheerios, darlings!"
Natalie then disappeared down the hall, her expensive heels clacking loudly on the polished floors.
Reina didn't look bothered by the insult. She gave Natalie a small wave and "Have fun!", but the young Kabra was already gone from earshot.
Ian beckoned the servants to clear the table.
A pair of honey colored eyes looked at Amy gleefully. Amy tried hard not to pierce her with daggers.
"Amy! Are you busy today?"
Amy was seriously considered to make up a lame excuse.
"I was actually-"
Reina didn't bother to let Amy finish. "Great! I was hoping you could come with Ian and I to pick out some flowers for the wedding." She glanced at Ian, "Amy can come along, can't she?"
Amy studied the paisley print of the table runner as Ian turned to look at her.
"Sure."
Reina beamed happily. "This is going to be great!"
Amy groaned inwardly, but the elated brunette did not notice.
Her day just couldn't get any worse.
"Letting go doesn't mean that you don't care about someone anymore. It's just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself."
― Deborah Reber, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul
Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews would be great. Don't hesitate to point out any mistakes. :)
Big thanks for pseudonym99 for helping me with names, and also thanks to all of you that reviewed! Virtual cookies for you all (::) (::) (::)
Expect slight Amian moments in the next chapter(s)...
Question time!
1. Should there be Natalie/Dan (Natan)?
2. Coke or Pepsi?
3. Would you rather go back in time or into the future?
Thanks for reading!
M