51 Maximillian Banks (The Third)

“Don’t wish it was easier, wish you were better. Don’t wish for less problems, wish for more skills. Don’t wish for less challenges, wish for more wisdom. The major value in life is not what you get. The major value in life is what you become. Success is not to be pursued; it is to be attracted by the person you become.”
~Jim Rohn~

Miles Edgeworth and Lana Skye
Wa Sing Ku’s Mansion, Borginia
August 7, 2024, 11:00 PM

Before being allowed entrance to the private fiesta at the drug lord’s château, the undercover faux lovers first had to check in with the armed security guard located in front of the iron gates, and assure him that they were there for Wa Sing Ku’s party. Then they needed to wait for the formal verification that indeed, Maxamillian Banks and Debbie Dallas were on the exclusive invitation-only list before they were allowed to proceed.

Although he was largely accustomed to being surrounded by opulence and splendor, having been raised in Germany at the Von Karma estate, and was certainly no stranger to life’s extravagances, as he was wealthy enough in his own right, Miles still couldn’t help but be impressed by the luxurious manor where that night’s festivities were being held.

He marveled at the sights before him as he slowly drove the Lamborghini up the long winding stone path, lined with pine trees and red crackle glass garden stakes, which held lit-up flickering flame torches. Tall, stone towers loomed in the distance, past a courtyard filled with marble fountains, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding night silence.

At last, they came upon the brightly lit colossal structure.

Looking up, he noted a third-floor balcony, shaped like a half-circle, that overlooked the front of the house, with spiral carved bushes near the door.

After parking the car next to the several dozen others on the side lawn which seemed to be the designated parking area, the phony billionaire extended his arm to his arm candy for the night and escorted her up the driveway. En route, they passed the lawn of immaculately landscaped cherry blossom and pine trees, from which sphere-shaped cage lanterns hung, as well as next to the large wooden double door. A loud clacking noise resounded as he rapped on the heavy silver knocker shaped liked a lion’s head, wondering if it would even be heard over the roaring din he could hear inside.

The door was promptly opened by a man that could have easily passed for the lovechild of Hendricks and his housekeeper, Mrs. Kucharka. The dark-haired lad had the similar stern features of his manservant and the same wide-eyed, slightly stunned expression of his Eastern European maid, the latter of which Miles found decidedly amusing. After all, wouldn’t the butler have been expecting to have folks arriving at the door of the premises where a seemingly roaring soirée was being held?

“Good evening,” the prosecutor-turned-playboy smiled pleasantly as the young man bowed and ushered them in. “We’re guests of Mr. Ku.”

“Good evening, and welcome to Huxi Manor, Master Ku’s esteemed estate. Please follow me to the terrace, and join the other guests.”

Miles and Lana were led through the massive home, which appeared to have no doors, but high archways instead. There was a gigantic electrolier, fifteen feet high, with upward-curling gilt branches opening into cloudy glass lilies of light in the tall ceiling. The main foyer took them through a long hallway leading to the courtyard, followed by just about the longest spiral staircase imaginable. Each area they passed along the way was filled with mosaics on the walls, ornate rugs, and carved statues, as well as extortionate trinkets of deep, lustrous gold and silken silver, coruscated in the glimmering lighting provided, shooting beams of pure wealth into every corner of the lavish rooms.

It was exactly the type of residence one would picture for an obscenely prosperous businessman who had achieved his wealth via various illegal and unscrupulous activities.

Drinks were being served on the long terrace, and when Miles and Lana stepped out through the French doors, they spotted two or three dozen small groups of people, already laughing and glowing. It was evident that everyone had been on holiday, and like the roses and begonias in the blossoming garden, they seemed to take and hold the richly filtered light of the flickering torches.

“Shall we meander about?” He mused to his escort. “I see the party seems to be in full swing already, even though it only started an hour ago.”

His covert partner nodded, her eyes still taking in their swanky surroundings and the various attendees.

“Hurrah for being fashionably late…”

The last thing we want to do is draw unnecessary attention to ourselves! Although it’s not as if that’s likely to happen! Well, not in my case, anyway…

While there were many attractive, sharply dressed men in various shapes and sizes milling about, Miles, in Lana’s opinion, was easily the most handsome man there. The majority of the lucky high rollers were accompanied by one or two exquisite, statuesque model types hanging off their arms, all in various colors of dresses and styles that made her own alleged daring number look like a nun’s habit in comparison! And in her towering stilettos, the former Chief Prosecutor could deduce that she was easily the tallest, although far from the most eye-catching female there! If anything, she felt impossibly gangly and out of place next to these petite, dainty belles, not to mention ancient, as well-preserved as she was! There appeared to be absolutely no other woman there who was over the age of 25!

As if sensing her unease, Miles plucked two flutes of champagne from a dark-haired young waiter and steered them into the knee-high maze of the parterre.

The curlicue of the path brought them around to a view of an enormous, Olympic-sized swimming pool, equipped with two diving boards. Several guests were already happily splashing about, and shrieks of laughter could be heard as someone started a spirited game of Marco Polo.

“I didn’t know it was going to be a pool party!” Lana observed enviously, wishing she’d thought to slip a bikini into her evening bag. “It’s such a warm night out, too. It’d be perfect for a swim.”

“Do try to remember that we’re not here for fun,” he murmured in her ear, his warm breath shooting unprecedented tingles up and down her spine.

She flashed him an impish grin to mask the unexpected reaction his nearness had upon her senses.

“How could I forget, you old stick in the mud?” She quipped. “Nevertheless, it’s still a damn party! Lighten up, will you?”

“A work festivity, mind you.” He crossed his arms.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but have you gotten even more uptight over the years?” She goaded. “Is that a wrinkle I see forming on your brow?”

“I beg your pardon?” He asked with attempted hauteur, trying to appear irked at the question but unable to keep the frown on his face as he saw the barely suppressed mirth shining in those lovely teal eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, stop frowning!” She admonished lightheartedly. “It will only give you wrinkles! And the more crinkly your face becomes, the less I’m going to be able to read what you’re thinking!”

“Well, I never! I’ll have you know, I don’t have a single wrinkle upon my youthful brow!” He declared, crossing his arms while still trying not to smile. “I suggest you fall more into your hired role and take heed to the fact that you’re a working girl tonight!”

“I don’t think so,” she dismissed with a shrug, her eyes still dancing. “You’re enough of a stickler for the both of us! Incidentally, I am hardly a lady of the night who is up for hire, despite looking the part! Therefore, I believe may resent the double entendre behind your particular phrasing, Mr. – ”

“Ah, ah, ah, honey.” Even though there appeared to be nobody around them thus far, he put a cautious finger to her lips, effectively silencing her from accidentally blurting out his true identity, while trying to squelch the slight charge he’d felt at the personal gesture of her warm breath against his index. “I respond only to darling or…”

“Yes, I know … Maximillian Banks, the third.” She smirked at him and took a swig from her glass. “Or do you prefer Max?”

“Whatever tickles your fancy, Ms. Kane.”

“I insist that you that back at once! You know that I refused to be called, Lana Kane!” She took another sip of champagne. “What was Lang thinking when he offered to name me after an anti-friction ointment?”

“I suppose he figured if the name was good enough for a foxy lady spy of the same moniker on Archer, it would suffice for you too. I reckon our leader thought it was a compliment,” he chuckled, breaking his austere mien at last. “He also thought you’d be more grateful about being allowed to veto the first name option of Candy.”

“Ugh, talk about your rock and a hard place!” She groaned. “I realize I’m supposed to be your arm candy tonight, but surely I could have been designated something more dignified like you were!”

“Well since you’re going to look the part of the doxy, I guess they figured why not go all the way?” He suggested mildly, finding himself enjoying this slight banter way more than he should have been, as it made him reminiscent of their past flirtations.

“First, I’m a working girl, and now you’re calling me another fancy word for bimbo?” She swatted him on the arm, even though she was snickering. “You mind your mouth there, Maxi…Pad!”

“Tut, tut, my pet,” he grinned. “Anyone within earshot may begin questioning your devotion to me thus! Or even worse, assume that there’s friction among us and that a need for actual Lanacane is involved!”

She drained the last of her glass and slapped it on a nearby table before turning back to him, her playful smile now replaced with a decidedly less amused expression.

“You know very well that Lana Kane is not my assigned name!”

“Keep calm and carry on, Ms. Dallas.” He lightly put his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the refreshment table. “Let’s get some substance into your stomach, as you knocked back that last glass of Cristal a bit too quickly for my liking.”

“One glass of bubbly won’t make me drunk, you worrywart!” She insisted but went along willingly.

At the far side of the pool were three benches that were dedicated to the most decadent desserts, so beautiful that it seemed to be a pity to eat them, that either Lan or Miles had ever seen, including but not limited to:

• Yogurt Panna Cotta with Fresh Pomegranate Sorbet and Brioche Croutons
• White Chocolate Mousse-Granny Smith Apple Trifle, with Calvados Genoise Cake and Butter Pecan
• Vanilla-Honey Parfait in Pineapple Gazpacho with Lace Crisp and Cilantro Syrup
• Cara Cara Orange Pound Cake with Crème Fraiche Sorbet and Cara Cara Orange-Grand Marnier Tartare
• Lychee Granita with Salted Ume (Japanese Plum) Sauce, and Mint, Served With Raspberry Sorbet

A large crystal bowl held sparkling candy apple punch, afloat with strawberry ice cubes, and a swarm of other guests socialized around a waterfall wine chiller and champagne fountain that sparkled with flames.

Lana helped herself to a decadent chocolate bonbon. It instantly oozed an unmistakable burst of rum cream into her mouth on the first bite.

 Crap on a spatula! Do even the innocent-looking sweets have booze in them?!

She attempted to wash the taste out of her mouth with some punch. However, upon the first swallow, she could immediately tell it was copiously spiked with a spicy, exotic liquor. Seeing no way to leave it at the table without appearing gauche, and as there was no empty table or server around to dispose of the offending item, she reluctantly held onto the large cup and mindlessly reached for a passion jelly pie with passion fruit curd, graham cracker, soft cheesecake, passion fruit jelly, and coconut chips. It was a sinfully delicious treat that she’d deemed to be an innocuous choice … before realizing two bites in that there was alcohol in this dessert, as well!

It was a good thing Lang and Badd had taken them for food prior to all of this, so she didn’t have a completely empty stomach. However, she’d been so filled with trepidation and focused on taking note of all the commands and instructions for the evening that she’d barely pecked at her meal, taking only tiny bites of her salad and potatoes and not much else, in order to preserve her lipstick.

Jesus Christ jogging on a swimming pool, I’m such an idiot!

The brunette cursed herself now for such vain stupidity. She was going to be the most immaculately made-up, intoxicated Interpol Agent in the history of undercover operations!

Well isn’t this just kick you in the crotch and spit on your neck fantastic?! I’ve never been much of a drinker, so I’m a complete lightweight. Therefore, all of this booze will go right to my head, morphing me into the big awkward giantess who got shit-faced within the first hour of the party! Then, for an encore, she fell and twisted her ankle in her stupid spiked heels and blew the whole undercover operation! Why oh why does this kind of stuff have to happen to me? And why…in front of him, of all people?!

“Is there anything here that doesn’t have booze in it?” She hissed at Miles. “I’d been hoping to have my wits about me for when we finally met our host! Have you spotted him yet?”

“Tart?”

“What did you call me now?” Lana asked indignantly, then blushed furiously when the server in question held out the tray of warm chocolate tarts with pink peppercorn ice cream and raspberry sauce to her, his brow raised in undisguised derision.

She hastily popped one of the treats into her mouth before she said something to further embarrass herself. Unfortunately, she could feel the effects of the punch and champagne and consumed rum balls already making her head feel abuzz.

Not to mention the fact that it wasn’t raspberry drizzled on those chocolate pastries the waiter just offered me! It was red wine sauce!

“Are you OK?” Miles regarded her with concern, noting both her semi-glassy-eyed expression and that she was teetering dangerously on her stilettos. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine!” She staggered slightly, then reached out and quickly grabbed his shoulder to catch herself, wondering if the consumed sugar from the pastry table hadn’t possibly made her tipsy state worse. Unfortunately, there was no other form of more substantial fare within sight. “Just, um, don’t walk too fast and see if you can flag down a waiter for some water?”

Blast! She indeed appears a tad inebriated. Just what I need…

Stifling a sigh, the prosecutor wrapped a strong arm around her slender waist, basically supporting her at his side so she could walk with decidedly less stumble. Trying to ignore the stimulating heat of her scantily clad body as he felt her every curve pressed up against him, he plastered on the biggest smile he could muster. Then he busied himself with the tasks of mingling with guests, pouring water down his date’s throat whenever he could flag down a server, and making what he hoped were subtle inquiries about the whereabouts of their elusive host.

The former detective, for her part, was mortified that she had to use Miles as a human crutch because of her blitzed state, and was painfully aware of the inappropriate but delectably intimate sensation of his firm, muscular body up against hers. She groaned inwardly, and could just imagine Franziska’s reaction, watching all this on surveillance with the other agents at the moment. No doubt the German beauty would throw about a hundred and thirty-seven kinds of fits about Lana’s too-close proximity to her fiancé, and not give a rat’s ass about the extenuating circumstances that had preceded it!

Oh well, she would have to worry about that later, along with what her planned method would be of killing Lang for giving her such a ridiculous undercover name…

Finally, after half an hour or so of essentially carrying the tipsy woman about, Miles stopped to catch his breath and made small talk with a slim, grey-suited gentleman with a mustache, who was accompanied by a blonde bombshell, donned in a belt that she was passing off as a dress. Lana was still using him as a leaning post, but it was much easier to prop her up if he was no longer carrying her while moving! The Tony Stark wannabe figured if at least he was standing put, the still tipsy Interpol agent could just support herself on him while he regathered his bearings, even if it meant their bodies were still slightly too close for his comfort!

“That’s him over there,” pointed Fletcher Worthington, the art dealer whom they’d been chatting with, along with his companion, who didn’t even bother pretending she was anything other than the vapid arm candy she was.

Miles and Lana turned their heads in the direction of the extended finger, by the dessert table.

Wa Sing Ku had, at last, made an appearance.

As if sensing their stares, the man from the Orient strode over, a polite smile playing upon his lips.

He appeared before them in all his grandeur. A tailored black designer suit with a charming red tie. His angular jaw was lifted with a proud, pleasant smile. To describe his appearance would be to miss the point. He was richer than God and he clearly didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of the way he looked.

Under the glare of the outdoor lighting against the darkened sky, he appeared to be no older than a quarter century in age, though in the typical fashion of most Asian males, his unlined golden skin made him appear ageless, making him seem slightly boyish and charming.

When he at last spoke, there was no audible hint of his Chinese heritage. The host’s cadence sounded nearly as American Miles’s own did, perhaps even more so, as the prosecutor had repeatedly been told he still bore a slight British lilt in his inflection, leftover from his studies abroad in Europe. Despite spending over a decade as a lawyer in the States, it was something that people nevertheless called attention to sometimes.

“Fletcher, my boy, so glad you could make it,” Ku enthused, shaking the art dealer’s hand enthusiastically while flashing a row of flawless dentistry to Destiny. “And who is this ravishing creature at your side?”

“Destiny Wilder.” The nymph treated him to a sunny smile while extending her hand to shake. “Thanks for inviting us to this amazeballs party, Mr. Ku.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear. Well, Fletcher, you’re most fortunate to have landed yourself such a stunning catch.”

“Landed?” Destiny asked blankly, her eyes wide and vacant as a deer in headlights. “I dunno if that’s what our arrangement could be called … isn’t that right, Fletchie? I’d say it’s more of a transitory alliance of convenience! I mean, it’s only been 96 hours, but by current industry standards, I guess that makes us practically married!”

She tittered at her own wit, clearly oblivious to the mortified look on her date’s face that in her attempts to sound intelligent, all she’d managed to do was announce herself as the rented sexpot that she was!

There was dead silence as the revelation sunk in.

Well, as much as I was jesting about Lana being a strumpet, it seems we now have an actual, unabashed harlot for hire in our midst!

Miles wanted to laugh, he honestly did but knew that would be most unwise, not to mention cruel. He couldn’t put a lid on his less-than-charitable thoughts, though.

Fletchie, you poor sod, mayhap next time pay your literal working girl extra not to talk!

“I’m Maximillian Banks. The Third,” he interjected easily, cutting through the pregnant pause that seemed to be lingering. “You have a beautiful home. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, at last, Mr. Ku. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And I, you, Mr. Banks.” The Asian’s affixed smile never wavered. “Our mutual associate has been regaling me with tales about how you’re a man of exquisite tastes, who enjoys the more refined things life has to offer.”

“And I’ve heard that you’re a man who can acquire me some of the more exclusive things I may desire,” Miles replied smoothly, relieved that they were able to cut to the chase so quickly. “But before we continue, please excuse my rudeness in not first introducing you to my cherished companion, Miss Debbie Dallas.”

“Deborah!” Lana cut in quickly, straightening slightly from her leaning position against him and digging her fingers cuttingly into the fake billionaire’s back, unseen by the others. She forced a smile. “It’s Deborah  Dallas, actually.”

“But darling, you know how nobody likes to call you that but your mother – it’s much too serious a name for a fun-loving girl like you!” Miles smiled broadly while stifling a wince from those sharp talons still digging into his shoulder blades.  “She honestly prefers the more informal version of her name, Mr. Ku. Doesn’t she even look more like a Debbie?”

“Your name is Debbie Dallas?” Asked the incredulous Destiny Wilder, bursting into giggles. “You have got to be shitting on my nipples! You guys do know that Debbie Does Dallas is the title of a totally famous skin flick, right?”

Well if they didn’t before, they do now, you freaking big-mouthed courtesan with the stripper name! Lana fumed, dropping her eyes to the ground in mortification. Someone remind me to murder Lang when all is said and done!

Mercifully, her moment of humiliation was cut short by said bubblehead’s newly outed paying client.

“Honey, you mentioned being hungry earlier,” Fletcher hinted, taking his rental date firmly by the shoulders as he all but shoved her in the general direction of the buffet, despite her resistance. “Why don’t you go indulge in some of those sinful-looking decadent delights over at the dessert table before they’re all gone?”

The call girl turned and gave him a petulant look.

“Fletchie! I’m not going to eat all that sugar!” Destiny sulked. “Do you want me to get fat and burst the seams of this Versace?”

“Then go get a drink!” He hissed through gritted teeth, his impatience and frustration evident now. “And get me one while you’re at it!”

“Please partake in the champagne fountain I have installed for my guests’ enjoyment.” Ku inclined his head graciously. “It’s Cristal.”

Eureka! Miles couldn’t help but be pleased with his high-end label knowledge, despite not being a big fan of the bubbly. It appears I was right about the brand in those flutes, after all.

“Oh, wowee wow wow! That’s the expensive stuff!” The call girl clapped her hands in delight. “It was nice talking to y’all! I’ll catch you later, Fletchie! Toodles!”

The moment she was gone, there was a collective sigh of relief from the group, although it was hard to say whose was loudest.

“Sorry about that,” Fletcher flushed slightly. “She’s a nice girl, you know. She just has er, has no filter is all…”

“And she’s pleasing to the eye, so what else matters?” Ku waved a dismissive hand, then turned his curious almond eyes back to Miles. “As you were saying, Mr. Banks?”

“Max, please.” He gave his most disarming smile.

“Alright, Max. You were saying you have, ah, rare, hedonist tastes? Are you, perchance, a collector of some sort?”

“I have a small but impressive and rare art collection,” Miles responded easily, having specifically been prepared for this line of questioning. “A few works of Dalí, Picasso, and even a couple by Rembrandt.”

“Do you, now?” The host raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Originals, of course?”

“Naturally,” the barrister replied smoothly. “My latest acquisition was the exquisite painting done by Vincent van Gough… Poppy Flower. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“I have!” Exclaimed Fletcher before Ku could answer. Behind his glasses, his eyes were the size of silver dollars as he stared at Miles. “B – But, wasn’t that stolen over a decade ago from Cairo’s Mohamed Mahmoud Khalil Museum? It’s worth over $55 million!”

“You say stolen. I say… liberated.” Miles blithely examined his manicure for a moment then looked up and smirked at the art dealer’s incredulous expression. “To-may-to, to-mah-to. Nonetheless, it sets off my living room décor most splendidly.”

“I am suitably impressed,” the drug lord admitted. “Although I must let you know now, Max, that I don’t dabble as much in the artworks so much as I do in the shipping and receiving other items, shall we say?”

This was the segue they were looking for – possibly having Ku be the lead to Interpol’s big break.

Although the Cohdopian smuggling ring had been shut down five years ago, there was something more sinister in the works now that they had to contend with. It appeared that a new and more lethal criminal organization had risen from its ashes, called the Li-Suun Niik. The criminal ring was what Interpol had since been chasing since the previous bust, bouncing from Cohdopia to Borginia to Zheng-Fa, yet to no avail, each lead had only led to a dead end.

Interpol wasn’t sure if Li was an actual person or a code name, but the hot items the ring was moving, among other illegal substances, were Borginian cocoons. The cocoons were an item native to the European country of Borginia and the source of a very powerful medicine known to cure the disease Incuritis. It was due to the latter property that Borginian cocoons were forbidden from being taken out of the country, under the penalty of death.

The illegal exports were also the source of a very potent toxin, which was being used to make recreational drugs and give the user a high even more potent than the kind achieved with cocaine. It was an effect similar to bath salts, specifically aimed at the private jet set. The cocoons were not for the common street junkie, but for the most well-to-do of users to be used as an upper. Miles wasn’t stupid enough to start initial dealings by asking for them, nor was he certain if the kingpin was even the top dog who could get them for him. But they were certain Ku was their gateway lead if nothing else.

But to gain the host’s trust, first, they’d have to start smallish.

“If you could please excuse us,” he shot the still-stupefied Fletcher his most charming smile. “I’d appreciate a moment alone with our delightful host to talk business?”

“Oh, of course.” The other man blinked, his cheeks reddening at his obtuseness. “I suppose I should ensure Destiny hasn’t completely drained that Cristal fountain there! I’ll see you all later.”

Miles turned to the Asian, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed.

“So, what say you, Mr. Ku? Can we talk business?”

A slow, sly smile curved across the Chinese man’s lips.

“But of course! However, in the interest of keeping cool on this stifling warm night…” he gestured to the swimming pool. “How would you feel about taking this conversation to the water, where we can all be refreshed and energized?”

“That’s a great offer, Mr. Ku,” Lana smiled ruefully. “But neither Max nor I brought our swimsuits.”

She was treated to an unmistakable leer.

“That’s hardly a hindrance, Debbie. See for yourself.”

The Agent turned around, her cheeks turning pink as she noticed not only various swim trunks tossed carelessly onto the deck, but several of the women had also whipped off their bikini tops and were now drunkenly floating, face-up in the water. Even as she kept staring, one of them whipped off her bottoms and was now prancing, all carefree and merry, throughout the water.

Hold it! Isn’t one of those drunken naked chicks Destiny?!

“Oh,” she blushed even deeper. “Um, I don’t think…”

“What’s the matter, Debbie?” Ku’s lascivious eyes gave the shapely woman such an abashedly explicit appraisal that made Lana’s skin crawl. “That dress already doesn’t leave too much to the imagination … and I daresay, with Max here hopefully not objecting, that you have nothing to be bashful about in the slightest! If you were old and fat, I’d understand. Seeing as how you’re neither and have a most acceptable figure…”

“It’s my monthly, er, lady time!” Lana cried desperately, improvising quickly. Her face flamed. “I don’t think…”

“Say no more my dear, say no more.” Ku didn’t even attempt to hide his disappointment at the lost opportunity of seeing the statuesque Miss Dallas in her birthday suit. “However, you needn’t miss out on a dip. Quite a few of my guests were unprepared for this impromptu pool party. Just off to the in that cabana there are both men’s and women’s change rooms, with spare swimming attire for both of you to change into.”

He leered at Miles.

“I’m not even going to feign an offer to let you go in au naturel, Max. I don’t know if I could bear the … competition.” Flashing a jaunty wink, he sauntered back inside the house. “I’ll see you two by the deep end in five, then?”

“You bet,” Lana called out hollowly. “See you.”

The minute the host had left, the exes eyed each other circumspectly. They both knew, without saying aloud, the true reasons for her reservations about Operation Pool Dip, but neither could say it aloud right at that moment! Moreover, there was also the teensy weensy matter that neither of them had planned on seeing the other in a (near) state of undress ever again – never mind this soon after being reunited!

The entire scenario only added further discomfort to the already undeniable sexual tension between them, which was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Silently, the erstwhile paramours headed to their respective pool houses, each lost in thought.

Miles was the first to emerge, clad in a pair of well-fitted black swim trunks from the surprisingly vast selection that had been available.

Splashes, squeals, and the cacophony of voices greeted his ears at the swimming pool.

Listen to those drunken louts! He grumbled internally. It sounds like a menagerie!

Then he glanced down at the pool water gently lapping at the tiled edges, seeing no need to delay the inevitable, despite the now somewhat chiller outside temperature. The only way to do this was to plummet right in and let the cool water surround him all at once, hoping the heat from his muscles would be enough to keep the shivering at bay.

Taking the literal plunge, Miles dove right in.

After doing a few laps up and down the one secluded lane of the pool, away from the drunken and naked other bathers, he stopped and lay back in the water, letting his limbs do the thinking for him. The water was surprisingly warmer than he’d anticipated and quite refreshing.

Leaning back into a relaxed floating position, he stretched out his arms, closed his eyes, opened his palms, and released all bodily tension while he tried to let the calming waves take all his worries away.

After a few moments of blissful silence, he looked around and spotted Ku and Lana coming towards the pool at the same time, both in red swimwear. The former was wearing …

Gah! A Banana Hammock Speedo?!

The willowy brunette wore a minuscule string bikini that left very little to the imagination. Every curve of her lithe body was prominently on display, as the swimsuit consisted of nothing more than two small cherry-colored triangles that barely covered her breasts and one only slightly larger to cover up her…

His mouth went dry. He shut his eyes.

Don’t even go there, Miles Edgeworth!

Lana had emerged from the changing room, feeling as self-conscious as hell in her barely-there bikini, the skimpy style being the sole variety that the deviant, perverted host had available!

Her eyes fell to the pool surface, taking a deep breath as she tried to get her tumultuous emotions in check. This day had been nothing but unprecedented and unexpected havoc on her psyche, and, after this party with Miles, her heart. It could all lead to nothing but disaster. And none of this would be going away, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

She was trapped.

I want to be in that water, under it, gliding dolphin-like to the tiles below more than my next breath. It is a welcome freedom that is unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced in my 37 years; nothing else comes close. The coolness will bring me to the present like nothing else. In those perfect moments, I can forget the past and cease to analyze the future. I won’t worry about who I am, who I will become, or who I might never be. In its watery embrace, there is only the present, nothing more. Underneath the surface, I can escape the dull drag of gravity, of reality…

However, she and Miles knew she had very good reasons why she would not be going into the water and joining the lecherous Asian who had already submerged himself. Instead, she perched herself on the edge and smiled benignly at the kingpin, pretending to be engrossed in Ku’s mindless yammering while she brooded her plight.

Opening his eyes again, the legist craned his neck to get a clearer view of the drug lord, and Lana, at the far end, chatting with him. She was sitting on the ledge outside of the pool, long tanned legs dangling in the water as she laughed at whatever the host was saying. The Chinese man stood in the shallow end, directly below her in the water, reaching up and putting his hand on her thigh, a bold gesture which appeared not to have any effect on her, but the prosecutor knew his former lover well enough to note the discomfiture in her eyes.

With gritted teeth, Miles approached them.

Unhand her, you despicable lecher, before I’m forced to remove those grubby paws for you!

Lana greeted him with flushed cheeks and a tight smile of apprehension, as she was now obviously uncomfortable at being left alone with the lewd pervert, especially under these circumstances!

Miles grinned back at her, feeling helpless about what to do. He wanted to help her but was utterly powerless about being able to do so. He was red-faced himself with the anxiety and forced eagerness of waiting to talk business with a man he now wanted to beat into a pulp, all the while hoping Jilly’s laborious efforts on his new hair wouldn’t completely become undone.

More importantly, he desperately hoped that this was a permanent and not sort of eco-friendly, scent-free, water-soluble variety of dye on his head … you never could tell with those vegan, hippy Hollywood types. The last thing he needed to was to cast inky stains in the pool!

He finally sidled up to the two, discreetly putting himself between the touchy-feely groper and Lana so the other man had no choice but to remove his wandering hand, which had been creeping even higher up her thigh at this point.  Then he casually engaged himself in the conversation, allowing Ku to lead the reigns and regale them with several amusing anecdotes that thus far had naught to do with the matter at large.

Finally, there was a lull in the conversation, and Miles seized the opportunity to steer things back to business.

“As we were alluding to earlier,” he began. “Here are my thoughts, Mr. Ku. Nothing too ostentatious; I’m thinking maybe arranging a shipment… for say, ten kilos?”

“Fair enough. That’s not too big … but not exactly small either, Max.” Ku smilingly arched an eyebrow. “That kind of nose candy will run you about 350,000 American dollars.”

“Not a problem,” he replied smoothly. “Do you take cheques?”

“Ha-ha, you’re a funny guy.” The Asian’s smiling visage vanished. “I’m no bank, Banks. Cash only. But I don’t venture into any new business with just anyone. It doesn’t matter to me how impressive the news from the underground, which I’ve heard from our mutual associate, happens to be! I need to ensure certain factors first; make sure things are on the up and up with you. I have to know that I can depend on your loyalty and trust you completely.”

“Not a problem.” The prosecutor crossed his arms and stared unwaveringly at the other man. “I understand. You name whatever it is I’m going to have to do to gain your trust and you can consider it done.”

“Well, before I will have you receiving anything from me…” Ku grinned shrewdly. “There’s some shipping I need you to take care of for me first.”

“Consider it done.” Miles had expected as such and had been given autonomy to agree to essentially anything to get phase one off the ground. If things went according to plan, the drug lord would soon get to trust him with a large cocaine shipment and then hopefully – eventually – to more expensive, rare finds. Or at least, trust him enough to steer him toward the folks who could get his hot little hands on the cocoons.

The Chinese man outlined his operation plan, while the undercover Max Banks nodded and acquiesced, taking mental note of everything as well as the time, date, and place the shipment would need to be dropped off. If all went well, Ku said, then he would contact his newest would-be customer to discuss arranging the requested cocaine shipment.

After all the details were laid out, the host resumed his laughing congenial state and engaged them in some idle chatter for a bit longer.

Through the generous laughter emitted, he caught Lana’s eye again, and held it for two or three long seconds, hopefully giving her transfusion of reassurance. The attorney himself was a trifle nervous whether or not his planned speech had gone properly, and was chuckling in imitation of the others, not at the jokes themselves, all the while feeling more than a little anxious himself.

After a spell, Ku proclaimed he had to mingle with his other guests and told them to enjoy the rest of the party. His parting should have made Miles both feel relieved, but he didn’t. Now that he was alone with Lana, who still hadn’t come into the pool, he felt more agitated and apprehensive than ever.

The reason for his edgy state was he’d finally allowed himself to understand why. If he was to be perfectly honest, his frayed nerves pertained to more than merely just talking shop with a potentially dangerous and powerful criminal.

His rattled disposition was due to Lana. Hell, 99% of this was because of his former flame! Somehow, she had gotten under his skin again. Against his better judgement, he’d felt an almost uncontrollable surge of protectiveness and worse … jealousy when he’d seen the creepy Chinese man with his mitts on that luscious body that Miles used to once think belonged to him. He hated that she’d always brought such baser instincts out in him. He hated even more that she somehow still did!

Worse, her beauty only deepened the more time he spent looking at her.

He cursed himself as he remembered how earlier that day there’d been that fraction of a heartbeat when he’d partially lost himself and contemplated kissing her! And earlier that night, when she’d been tipsy from the champagne, he’d imagined cradling her cheek and tasting the fizzy wine from those full red lips. He’d quickly come to his senses, of course, and knew he needed to get a rein on himself.

With life’s tribulations, just remember that you’re a man who always logically solves his own problems and you will be able to handle anything the world throws at you, whenever or whatever it may be.

Miles took a deep breath and exhaled.

He and his one-time lover were merely colleagues now. Friendly Coworkers. Ones who could talk at length about many different subjects. Affable associates, who happened to share a colorful history but now just shared a cordial working relationship. And occasional playful banter. But that was all.

Lana had thus far given no indication she felt anything beyond cordial courtesy toward him now, so that spirited back and forth that they still had, that they’d had even back then, was safe enough. Now, it was merely a part of the undercover ruse, after all.

But his surprising inclination towards her at present was making him think otherwise.

Desperate to clear his thoughts and remain focused, he looked up at his ex, still sitting on the ledge, and asked the question that had been plaguing his mind since he’d seen her in all her nearly nude glory.

“Now that the coast is clear…” he queried, as soon as he was certain Ku was out of earshot. “Did you manage to successfully keep the wiretap on your person, perchance?”

“Miraculously, yes,” she returned wryly. “Thank goodness I was able to come up with a plausible excuse not to go into the water though! I don’t know if this thing is waterproof!”

“You’ve still got it on … underneath those scant garments?” He asked disbelieving, gesturing to the bikini on her barely covered body. “But how…?”

“Trust me, Max,” she grimaced. You don’t want to know…”