The Kingmaker

24 - Submit

 Central Alexandria was where everything happened. It had been that way for as long as Eden could remember, and despite the crown changing heads, that much had stayed the same.

Oasis. The second most popular nightclub in town, dwarfed by its rival only because of the difference in wealth of their clientele. But that was the way Eden wanted it. She wanted to be here at Oasis because she had no interest in the company of sleazy millionaires in tuxedos touting supermodels on their arms. No, this place was a little...messier.

And messier was good. Messier meant more risks, more danger - and greater consequences if anything went awry. Instead of spoiled trust fund babies giggling over wine and high class escorts lounging in their laps, Eden was surrounded by hundreds of sweating, half-naked bodies gyrating to pounding beats, most of them amped up on illicit drugs too hard for those trust fund babies to ever dream of indulging in.

And while Eden didn't think Cristian would be afraid of frightening a common mob to get to her, she knew what he did fear: the power of the Salini in their domain, and any disturbance therein that ran the risk of summoning men in suits carrying big guns.

But nothing was guaranteed. Cristian DiAngelo was no longer the skinny, crazy-eyed little street criminal from a decade ago. He was a powerhouse now, the head of his own impressive gang. He was still paranoid, still egotistical, and still very much a slave to his fleshly desires, but all those in conjunction could mean either good things or bad things for Eden. She had played her cards to appeal to the compulsive masculinity he clung to, but this meeting was far beyond the margins of safety she had wanted to draw, at least this early in the game.

Yes, he was paranoid: that meant he could easily turn on a dime and suspect that she was working against him (which would be true, but proof wouldn't matter to him either way). And yes, he was egotistical: if she misspoke and overstepped, he would take that as a personal insult and might respond with an entire magazine of bullets to her chest.

And as for fleshly desires - well. Cristian DiAngelo was nothing like his name suggested. Stories abounded of the women he'd taken, willingly or not.

With all this on the field, there was no way Eden was going to show herself first. With a little more time to prepare, she would have been able to engineer their meeting with more precision, undertaking only the most unavoidable of risks after weeding out every other variable. But with the clock ticking following the incident this morning, she needed to condense the timetable.

Not all of her pieces were on the playing board yet, but she could start moving the ones that were.

With caution.

She knew Cristian's choice of transport would be more modest than his usual retinue of armored SUVs, something that would blend in a little better but not understate his importance. An expensive sports vehicle, maybe. Something that would attract eyes but not necessarily enemies.

Because Salini territory discouraged excessive flaunting from outsiders, even if it was technically peaceable ground between most of the crime families in the city. In a castle, after all, its king had to be the most magnificent.

And it was as Eden had thought: several minutes before the scheduled time, a black Ferrari rolled up to the valet service. How patriotic of Cristian, she thought as she watched him climb out of the vehicle from the nightclub's outdoor lounge. And...how predictable.

She kept her head down and continued to sway against the half-conscious, entirely intoxicated young man she had lured out here for some performative necking. She would leave him in a minute or so after following Cristian inside at a safe distance; he was too sloshed to protest her absence anyway.

And that was what she did. After Cristian and his three bodyguards stomped their way into the building, she pushed herself off of her temporary companion. She picked up a cloth napkin from the outdoor table they had taken and wiped away his sloppy kisses on her neck before dropping it in his lap.

He didn't even realize she had stood up yet: he was still twitching on the shared seat as if he were grinding against her.

...The things she tolerated for the sake of business. She sighed.

Eden knew Cristian had another man stationed somewhere, eyes to watch the road and the entrance. He didn't want to be taken unawares, didn't like playing games when his life was the prize at stake.

He didn't know who she was, so that was fair. He was intrigued by her role in expanding his territory, and that was fair too. Didn't mean that he would let down his guard long enough for her to put her foot in the door - and so long as her safety wasn't guaranteed, she had no intention of letting him get the upper hand so easily.

As soon as she went inside and began to edge her way through the crowd, she peeled off the light green jacket she had been wearing and let it drop to the floor. And then as she continued to push her way through writhing bodies and shimmering lights, she pulled the hem of her maxi dress up over her head and discarded that as well - revealing a strapless black top as well as a knee-length black skirt underneath.

She didn't need those clothes anymore, didn't care that the crowd would trample all over it and rip it to shreds under their shoes by morning. She had only needed it so that if there was a stationed watcher outside talking in Cristian's ear, reporting the description of every possible young woman entering the building, that he would be dead wrong about what she was wearing and what she looked like by the time she found Cristian himself.

She let down her hair for good measure, letting her black tresses cascade over her bare shoulders. By now, she would be unrecognizable. No more maxi dress, no more sweater. And no more hair pulled up in a messy bun.

Good thing that DiAngelo's bodyguards were so tall. If she peered through the crowd and stood up on her tip toes, she could see one of their bald heads shining like a beacon under the strobe lights. They were at the bar, then, exactly where he had said he would be. And indeed, he had brought muscle. He had already told her he wouldn't be coming alone, so that wasn't a concern.

No firearms, though. They would have all been frisked upon entry just like everyone else. But all that meant was that Cristian was confident in his bodyguards' ability to protect him - or attack for him - barehanded, so that didn't offer much reassurance.

No. She was going to have to chance this one a little harder than she usually did. Exercise the sociopathy that she'd been accused of so many times and exploit it so that she could get what she wanted.

She had to play the game.

At least it wasn't a fool's game of chance, heads or tails. This one...if she played it right, if she moved her pieces with care, if she protected the king and moved 'round and 'round her prey until he was wound up tight in her coils before he even knew it...

"You've been watching me."

Perfectly situated on her bar stool, Eden let herself flinch a little at his voice. Maybe add a  shiver? Yeah, that was good, just a small one - but enough to make it noticeable. That wasn't hard with the way Cristian's face was nearly nestled between her neck and shoulder. And even though the music continued to pound away around them and the lights flashed over the walls, she knew that bare skin was always a reliable conductor of body language.

"I didn't think you'd noticed," she said, and now he was pressed flush against her back, hands moving around either side of her waist.

He wasn't as clever as he thought he was. Yes, he had finally "caught" her staring at him from across the curved, semicircular bar. And yes, he had approached her too quickly for her to get away even if she had wanted to. But this facade of s****l forwardness - he wasn't quite as genuine about it as he wanted her to believe.

Because he wasn't just groping her, he was searching her for weapons. Guns, knives, anything that she might have hidden around her waist. And now his hands were sliding down toward her thighs, fingers pressing against her skirt to dig into the soft skin hiding underneath. She knew.

And she didn't resist, just turned her face away slightly. He took the opportunity to nose her hair, the curve of her neck a little more -

"You came alone," he muttered against her neck. "You're not very smart."

She let herself shiver again. He'd definitely felt that one. Masculine egos were so easy to manipulate - but now she had to exploit it properly.

"I don't have anyone else to bring," she replied, allowing her voice to quaver just enough for him to notice. "But I've always been a solo player anyway."

"And now you're coming to me for help."

"I'm coming to see if I can be of use and mutual benefit. There's a very big difference there, Mr. DiAngelo. I don't need charity."

And...men did love the chase. Eden had to remember not to roll her eyes when his hand pressed harder against the tops of her thighs.

"What can you offer me that I can't get anywhere else, then?" he asked.

She felt his breath curling against her ear. Hm. This was promising. Nothing was a guarantee, but the physical attraction seemed to be genuine, if the rising firmness she could feel brushing against her rear just above the edge of her bar stool was any indication. Oh, Cristian. Mostly animal still, even after all these years.

"That depends on what you want," she replied. "I'm good at acquiring things."

"What kind of things?" he pressed. Now he was swaying slightly against her, moving his chest along her back as he nosed her hair some more. "You'll have to offer something special. I've already got people who can give me everything I need."

"Even Alexandria?"

He stopped moving. Eden paused as well, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground. She would have to be careful here...cautious.

"What did you say?"

"I said, Alexandria." She turned her head so that she could look him in the eye and held his stare. "Give me the resources I need, and I can double your profits in a month. I'll expand your territory, you'll be sharing borders with fewer rivals. And as I understand it, things have been tight ever since the Salini moved into town."

"Careful, woman."

"Oh, I know," she whispered into his ear, and that was when she knew she had him. Greedy little man, he hadn't moved away as soon as she mentioned the Salini. And now she knew how to get to him. "Imagine a day when you don't have to be so wary anymore. Imagine going back to the days before them, when there was an open path up to the top as long as you knew how to play the game. Not this...gatekeeping nonsense where only their own men get to reign at the top. I heard Alexandria...used to be full of opportunities."

His hands squeezed around her thighs. "Who've you been talking to?"

"A lot of people, Mr. DiAngelo, and that's one of my skills. I can offer that to you...for a price."

"To talk to people?" he scoffed. "There's no need to talk. I shoot, I get what I want."

"This way is cheaper, Mr. DiAngelo, and faster. Wouldn't you rather have your rivals on their hands and knees, converted to your side and eager to serve? Killing is so messy, and the wins - well, you end up having to shave away at the bottom line every time you incur a loss. Bodies, resources. I can get you your wins without bloodshed...or at least, with less of it. And I can do all this...just by talking."

"Talking?" he repeated.

"It's an art. A learned one. Making people want to submit to you is a long, difficult road, Mr. DiAngelo. Without the proper encouragement, you'll have to go to the trouble of making them behave the hard way..."

She felt him shift against her, and the telltale firmness there. Predictable. It was so easy to make a conversation sound s****l, and even business could be made to sound tantalizing with the right words.

"Tell me more," he said. "Tell me about submission."

"...It would be my pleasure, Mr. DiAngelo."