Two-3
1924 Words
His services are quite genius, and he’s discreet, which is why he’s here. I need a new contact, seeing as Raul is off the cards, and my old supplier, Adam, is nowhere to be found. I thought once Serg was dead, he’d come out of hiding, knowing I wouldn’t do business with Raul.
But alas, no Adam so therefore, no supply.
I suppose I could go into legal dealings and leave the drug world behind. But drugs are going to exist with or without me, so I’d rather it be with me because I feel most at home here.
“Hello, Charles. Good of you to come.” I don’t extend my hand because I will not let Willow go.
Charles nods with a smile. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s good to see you where you belong. Your home is extraordinary.”
“Thank you. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s coming along nicely. Maybe we could discuss some artwork when you’re free? I need someone with a good eye.”
Charles appears overjoyed. “Yes, this sounds wonderful. I’ll organize a date at your earliest convenience.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it. Enjoy the festivities.” I excuse myself because I can’t tolerate playing nice for too long. I need to find Ella.
Willow holds on tight and stays silent, which is what’s expected. To the outside world, she’s on my arm to look pretty, and that’s all. Saint is there as reassurance, and when my guests turn to look at us with interest, it seems the point has been made.
I work the room, greeting my guests and making small talk. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air as not that long ago, I was seen as nothing but the enemy, a traitor. These putrid human beings easily discarded me, but now that I’m back on top, they want to pretend it never happened.
I can play the game, but I’ll never forget how I was replaced without a second thought. There is no loyalty between us.
As we walk into the ballroom, I scan my surroundings, desperate to find Ella, but she’s not here. Pavel walks over, and the stern look on his face alerts me to the fact something is wrong.
“She’s not here,” he whispers under his breath.
Inhaling sharply, I keep it together because we’re on display. “All of them?”
Pavel shakes his head. “Santo is here. That’s all.”
Willow squeezes my arm gently, reassuring me. But there is only one person I need reassurance from, and it seems she’s not here.
“Where is he?”
Pavel pulls his lips into a thin line, warning me not to make a scene. “Outside having a cigar.”
Without thought, I let Willow go and silently order Saint to watch over her. This room is filled with circling vultures as they’re all intrigued with the American beauty who was able to bring a leader to his knees.
They want to know why she’s back and what role she plays in my life. As for Saint, their curiosity is sated because they’re still afraid of him. The fact no one will look him in the eye confirms this.
Following Pavel, I attempt to act semi normal and not close to boiling point as people commend me on what a fine party this is. Or how delicious the caviar dip is. I’m half listening to their nonsense because none of it matters.
The only one that matters isn’t here.
Stepping out onto the marbled terrace, I see Santo propped up against the balustrade, laughing at something Austin Bailey just said.
Both men have a taste in high-powered weaponry. However, Austin is a little fish compared to Santo, which gives me an idea. I’ll revisit this later because now, I need to rein in the urge of throwing a smug Santo over the marbled banister.
“Gentlemen,” I say with a forced smile. “Grand of you to attend.”
Santo examines me closely. The last he saw me, I was straddling the line between the living and the dead. Thanks to Larisa’s potions, my external bruising has faded. One is oblivious to how dire things were unless they saw it with their own two eyes as Santo did.
I left him with more questions than answers as he believed I would have been a little more grateful for him saving my life. But him saving me meant Ella was in danger. She still is.
Austin extends his hand, which I shake firmly. Thus far, no one has commented on my cane. It doesn’t surprise me that Santo is the first one.
“I like this look,” he says, laughing as though we’re friends. “Very dashing.”
We shake hands, and it takes all my willpower not to break his. “It serves many purposes,” I cryptically reply. “I’m so pleased you could come. Where are the boys? I haven’t seen them in so long.”
I try to keep my tone casual.
Santo takes a pull of his cigar. “Those boys don’t like to share,” he replies with an arrogant smirk while I barely hold back the urge to elbow him in the face. “When I left home, they were arguing over who was going to play with the new…toy. So I’m unsure if they’ll come. Knowing my sons, they’ll end up making a mess.”
I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.
Advancing, I’m only stopped because Pavel yanks on the back of my vest to halt my attack.
“Oh, what a shame. I was looking forward to catching up with them,” Pavel says quickly, speaking for me because words have escaped me.
All I can do is glare at Santo, envisioning all the ways I’m going to kill him. He seems unaware of my rage.
The “toy” he speaks of is Ella. He flippantly refers to her like some plaything. I pale at the thought. I thought it was merely him and Frank I was up against. But it appears all the Macrillo men are involved.
Bile rises, and I press my fist over my lips to stop myself from being sick.
“Those boys are wild. They may turn up later. We’ll see.”
That’s where he’s wrong. If I don’t see Ella tonight, I’ll be storming Santo’s house and taking back what is mine. I refuse to believe she enjoys being at the Macrillos’ disposal. The things they would do to her…
“Where is this American beauty I’ve heard so much about?” Santo asks with a devilish smirk. “The room is rife with gossip. But no one has the balls to ask you what the arrangement is. Only you could pull something like this off.”
“Like what?” I question firmly.
My defenses are in place because I don’t like where he’s going with this.
“Well, welcome the woman who ruined you back into your life and expect others to accept her. No one else would do this because they wouldn’t have let her live. But not you. You’re a big softie deep down, it seems.”
“Far from it,” I counter sharply.
Santo is testing me. He’s the only person who has the guts to do so.
I knew my peers wouldn’t be too accepting of Willow’s return as I parade her around like a show pony, revealing just how deeply I care for her. This act exhibits to everyone that she was far more than a submissive to me.
Now that she’s back, they want to know what’s changed because being vulnerable, which is what Willow made me, is seen as a weakness. Being weak opens me up to challenge, as some may not deem me fit for the role of ruler.
I need to put this belief to bed immediately.
“She knows her place. As do all my women.”
Santo c***s his head, not convinced. “We shall see. I mean, the fact you refer to them as women intrigues me.”
“How so?”
“They are merely here for our amusement. When you start identifying with them, it gives them ideas,” he states with disgust.
Pavel subtly shakes his head, a silent warning not to act on impulse and throw this chauvinist over the railing. But how dare he come here and spew such deplorable views?
“What ideas?” I ask, feigning interest because a small crowd has formed.
“That their opinion matters,” Santo replies without pause. “They’re a warm body, and that’s all. If you treat them as anything else, they believe they matter and that they’re special. But they’re not. Every hole is a goal, my friend. Some tighter, warmer, wetter, and sweeter than others, but in the end, there is always something better.”
I stare, open-mouthed, not believing the filth I’ve just heard.
The onlookers snicker in concord, in the belief that what Santo just said holds merit. They slap him on the back while I envision slapping his face against the marbled floor.
If these are his beliefs, then what has he done with Ella? She is seen as less than nothing, and I hate to imagine what she’s endured since she also betrayed Santo.
I need to get her away from him without delay.
“I suppose that’s where you and I differ,” I say, silencing the boys club. “I value loyalty. And respect. It’s imperative to have. One can easily fake it, but in the end, those with true emotions will fight with you and for you until the very end. You may see them as…easily replaced playthings, but I’m a collector of fine things. But kudos to you for not having any standards.”
Santo’s cocky demeanor soon deflates as I just insulted him to his face.
I dare him to retaliate because if he disrespects me in my home, I’ll make an example out of him. I hope that he does.
But he doesn’t.
He backs down, sensing his loss.
The laughter of others soon dies down when they realize they are at risk of being hurt and hurt really bad.
“Now, if anyone else has anything further to comment about who I allow to stand by my side, then speak now.”
Eyes are quick to avert.
“Didn’t think so,” I quip. “And Santo, speaking of respect. I expect your sons to be in attendance. Call them.”
With that, I turn on my heel, refusing to waste any more time on these vile humans.
Pavel walks by my side, and to anyone else, they’d think he was stone-faced. But not to me. His slanted smirk highlights how he enjoyed the show.
“I have an idea,” I whisper behind my staged smile.
Pavel waits for me to continue.
“This won’t work with my old allies. They’ll only see me as a failure, they do, and it’ll only be a matter of time before someone challenges me for the top spot.”
“What do you propose then?” Pavel asks, reaching for two glasses of French champagne from the silver tray held by a server.
He offers one to me, which is the perfect guise for me to conceal my plans as I raise the glass to my lips, and reveal, “We start from scratch. Out with the old. In with the new.” And with that, the champagne trickles down my throat, the bubbles colliding with the excitement brewing within my stomach.
Pavel doesn’t drink. He simply looks at me as though I’ve gone mad.
I suppose that’s a fair response, seeing as I just proposed we kill half of Russia’s underworld. But it’s the only way.
Austin is little league because of people like Santo. But if I eliminate the competition, he will be grateful and trustworthy for my troubles, and I’ll have a loyal ally for life. It’s rather genius.
“You’re mad,” Pavel says from behind the rim of his glass.
I shrug, not bothering to argue because the point is moot.
This is insane, but there simply is no other way. I cannot have dealings with my old colleagues because they know too much. They’ve seen me at my worse, and with such an unforgiving audience, they won’t forget.
- Writer
