FORTUNE FAVOURS HER

episode 5

"The DA won't follow you for a while," I announce, standing amidst the gentlemen gathered in the room. It's been days since the tense phone call with Oliver, and the weight of the deception I've been forced to carry hangs heavy on my shoulders. I've learned that the man standing before me is Mr. Carnevale, the enigmatic figure who wields power with a cold and calculated precision. Behind closed doors, he's addressed by name, but in the presence of others, he's simply referred to as "sir."

"Good work," Mr. Carnevale acknowledges, his tone clipped as he gestures for the others to leave the room. Albert, the man who has been watching my every move for the past two days, follows suit, leaving me alone with the boss. Fear prickles at the edges of my consciousness as the door clicks shut behind them, leaving me alone in the presence of the man who holds my fate in his hands.

Still standing before him, I can feel the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on me, a palpable tension that fills the air between us.

"Have a seat, Miss Collins," Mr. Carnevale says, his voice betraying a hint of familiarity as he gestures to the chair opposite him.

I comply silently, lowering myself into the seat with a sense of trepidation. The offer of a drink hangs between us, a subtle invitation to relax and let down my guard.

"No," I respond tersely, my voice betraying none of the anxiety that churns within me. I may be trapped in his web of deceit, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

Mr. Carnevale nods, his expression unreadable as he pours himself a drink, the clink of ice cubes against glass punctuating the heavy silence that hangs between us. He takes a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine as he studies me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

"You've proven yourself to be quite resourceful, Miss Collins," he remarks, his tone casual but tinged with a hint of admiration. "It's not often that we encounter someone with your... particular set of skills."

I say nothing in response, my mind racing as I search for the right words to navigate this precarious conversation. Every instinct screams at me to be cautious, to tread carefully in the presence of a man whose true motives remain shrouded in mystery,'' just saving my head.''

Mr. Carnevale sets down his glass with a deliberate clink, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative expression. "Tell me, Miss Collins," he begins, his voice low and measured, "what is it that you truly desire?"

The question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm at a loss for words. What do I desire? Freedom? Redemption? Perhaps even a chance at a new beginning?

"I desire comfort, power and peace," I finally reply, choosing my words carefully. "A chance to live my life without a worry of anything."

Mr. Carnevale nods thoughtfully, as if weighing my words against some unseen scale. "power," he repeats, the word lingering in the air like a whisper of promise. "An admirable goal, Miss Collins. And one that I believe we can help you achieve."

I narrow my eyes, a flicker of suspicion creeping into my thoughts. "And what exactly do you want in return?" I ask, unable to suppress the edge of defiance in my tone.

A slow smile spreads across Mr. Carnevale's lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Ah, now that, my dear, is a conversation for another time," he says cryptically, rising from his seat with a fluid grace. "For now, let us focus on ensuring your continued... cooperation."

'''I have a home. We can go our separate ways. I can say that I failed the mission,'' I suggest knowing if I don't pull from the operation now am stuck.

Mr. Carnevale's smile widens, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes at my attempt to negotiate. "Ah, but you see, Miss Collins, it's not quite as simple as that," he replies, his tone dripping with condescension. "You've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to our organization, and we have no intention of letting you slip through our fingers so easily."

I feel a knot of fear tightening in my chest at his words, the realization sinking in that escape may not be as straightforward as I had hoped. "For how long?" I press, my voice edged with desperation. "I have a life, a home. We can go our separate ways. I can say that I failed the mission."

Mr. Carnevale's laughter rings out like a death knell, cold and mocking. "Oh, my dear," he says, shaking his head in amusement, "you underestimate the extent of our reach. There is no going back for you now, no escape from the path you've chosen."

I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a leaden weight in the pit of my stomach. "Then what do you want from me?" I demand, my voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Mr. Carnevale's smile fades, replaced by a look of steely determination. "Your loyalty," he replies simply, his gaze piercing through me like a dagger. "Your unwavering obedience, your unquestioning allegiance to the cause. In return, we offer you power, protection, and a place at our side."

I stare at him in disbelief, the enormity of his offer sinking in. "And if I refuse?" I whisper, knowing deep down that the consequences of defiance could be dire.

Mr. Carnevale's expression hardens, his eyes flashing with a warning that sends a chill down my spine. "Then you will find that there are far worse fates awaiting you than death," he says softly, his voice carrying a weight of finality that leaves no room for argument.

As the gravity of my situation sinks in, I realize that I am truly and irrevocably trapped in a web of deceit and betrayal, with Mr. Carnevale holding all the strings. In this dangerous game of cat and mouse, there is no escape, no way out but forward. And as I stare into the abyss of uncertainty that lies ahead, I know that the choices I make in the days to come will shape the course of my destiny in ways I cannot yet comprehend.

As I gaze up at the ceiling, I can't help but feel a pang of longing for the comforting presence of my grandmother. She was always the voice of reason, the one who taught me to make the best of any situation, no matter how dire. Would she understand the choices I've been forced to make in order to survive? Would she forgive me for the compromises I've made to protect myself?

And then there's Oliver, the only other person in this world who truly matters to me. The thought of his disappointment, his betrayal, weighs heavily on my heart. I can't help but wonder if he'll ever understand the depths to which I've sunk in order to stay alive.

My thoughts drift to my best friend, the one person who understood me like no one else. She died on one of her missions with the battles in England, her body never recovered. But a part of me still clings to the hope that she's out there somewhere, fighting her own battles against forces beyond her control.

With a heavy sigh, I open my eyes to find Mr. Carnevale's gaze locked onto mine, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room is palpable, thick with unspoken threats and unspeakable consequences.

"You gonna buy me out with a better wage and better benefits," I say, my voice steady despite the fear that courses through my veins, "or I'd rather you save me the bullet to my head."

There's a moment of silence as Mr. Carnevale considers my words, his expression inscrutable. And then, to my surprise, a slow smile spreads across his lips, a glimmer of respect shining in his eyes.

"You're a smart one, Miss Collins," he says, his tone almost approving. "I think we can come to an arrangement that benefits us both."

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave as I realize that perhaps there's a glimmer of hope in this dark and treacherous world. With a renewed sense of determination, I steel myself for the negotiations to come, knowing that my future hangs in the balance. But for now, at least, I have a chance to survive. And in a world where survival is the ultimate prize, that's all I can ask for.