Chapter 2 : Have a Drink With Me
Chapter 2: Have a Drink With Me
Roman POV
I recognized her immediately. Sure I had never met her in person but I had seen pictures while she had been dating my brother.
I had always wondered how they had ended up together, my brother being who he was and her…
Her slender figure was accentuated by her deep red dress, allowing her to blend in as just another social elite here for a good time.
Had I not known who she was I would have assumed she was just another heiress or socialite here to party and indulge without fear of the public eye. She was everything the report said she was and more, able to fit into any environment as if she were born to it.
Though it was not just the way she adapted and moved in the environment that captured my attention, she was also extraordinarily beautiful. Her eyes were deep blue, like the sea in which one had to plunge deeper in order to unravel her secrets. Her skin was a milky white, pure and unblemished as porcelain save for the tiny scar on her left cheek. Her hair was a wavy blonde but I knew it was a wig, she was a natural ginger.
Her gaze was, unfortunately, periodically drifting to and from Edwin Salazar. It was a dead giveaway to anyone that was watching her. Maybe I should tell her that she needed to work on that. Not even an assassin kept that close an eye on their target.
I cursed quietly before taking a swig of whisky from my glass. Salazar was already a difficult person to confront and now I had to worry about some nosy journalist getting in my way.
I glanced back and saw that she was being approached by Max Von Licht, the eternally drugged up trust fund brat. No doubt he wanted to be the first to land what he assumed was ‘Fresh Meat’ at the Andromeda. That and he probably had to get to her before anyone else could tell her who he was.
She seemed to be flirting back, swirling her fingers through her luscious hair and touching him every few seconds.
I had to hand it to her, the woman knew what she was doing. Although it was child’s play to dupe someone like Max who thought he was made of pure gold.
“I see she’s here,” Matthew said between puffs of smoke. “Looks like my source was right; she’s after Salazar.”
“She’s going to get herself killed,” I muttered tensely. “She turned over too many stones to go unnoticed.”
“What are you going to do? Salazar will have his guard up even more if she makes a move which–”
“–which will make things more difficult for me,” I cut him off. “I am aware, Matt.”
My heart jumped when I saw her and Max head towards Salazar’s private booth. Max went first to talk to the congressman while Keava waited.
I needed to do something now or else she would ruin everything.
I hurried towards her and pulled her into an embrace before she could react.
“Emilia!” I exclaimed dramatically and loud enough so that anyone within earshot could hear. “Good Lord it has been such a long time since I’ve seen you! You’re looking as radiant as ever.”
She was confused, but quickly started forming her next few words, so I had to make her understand the seriousness of the situation. “You’re being watched,” I whispered in her ear. “Stay close to me, or I can’t promise you’ll make it out of here alive.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What…?” She stumbled over her words and I took advantage of her confusion, leading her over to an empty booth.
“You simply must have a drink with me,” I said jovially, signalling a waiter.
“Who are you and what are you playing at?” She hissed at me once the waiter had gone.
“Roman,” I said, quickly glancing around. “And the game that I’m playing is called ‘saving your life before you get yourself killed’, ever heard of it?”
“What are you talking about?”
I sighed and pointed to the corner of the club where a bald gentleman sat sipping a mojito.
“That bloke has been watching you the moment you walked in,” I said. “He’s one of Salazar’s bodyguards, ex-military. They know who you are.”
Keava POV
“They know who you are,” Roman said, smiling to keep up the appearance that we were just two friends who were catching up.
“Who I am is Emilia Orhzov,” I said sweetly. “And I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Roman laughed as the waiter returned with our drinks, a brandy for him and a margarita for me. I took a sip of mine to keep up the charade, however not before sniffing it to be certain that it was free of unwanted contents.
“I was at boarding school with Emilia Orhzov so I think I would recognise her,” he chuckled.
I stared at him, taking a moment to realise that I recognised his face from the papers; Emerald green eyes that could capture an entire room, pitch black hair that fell gracefully below his eyes. He had an energy that commanded a room through awe, as though he knew something of great value that could benefit all around him.
He was Roman Cabot; multi-billionaire with a hand in over two dozen businesses and companies around the world. A generous philanthropist who spent most of his time working on charity events. He too was squeaky clean in terms of reputation so to see him here was a bit of a shock.
Aside from all that; I used to date his brother…Andrew Cabot. A true scum of the earth. And it was that which made me weary of this man; surely the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, perhaps this Cabot brother was just better at hiding his dark side.
I didn’t say anything else. I tried to focus my mind on the reason I was here and looked over at Salazar.
“Do not look in his direction,” Roman hissed, “They can’t know that you’re here for him.”
“Can you at least tell me what is going on then?” I whispered back. “What do you have to do with Salazar?
The man before me did not look eager to divulge any information, electing to rather down the rest of his glass and call the waiter for another.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing here then?” I asked. I hoped that by steering the conversation in another direction I could circle without him realising it. I also hoped that if he continued to drink his tongue might become looser.
“The Andromeda is a club for the famous and wealthy, isn’t it? So why would I not be here,” he said with a charming glint in his eye.
“Because I know that this isn’t your scene,” I stated plainly. “You’re more of the brooding, reclusive type of rich.”
He downed another glass. “Everyone has their demons that need to be fed every now and then.”
Suddenly he grabbed the back on my neck and pulled me closer. I stared up ready to question him about what he was doing when his lips pressed against mine and we merged into a deep kiss.
Utterly stunned, bewildered, and enraged, my initial reaction was to shove him off me and follow up with a right hook to his face…
…but something held me there.
A heat.
A burning sensation like a raging fire in the heart of winter.
I was angry for some reason but I hungered for more.
I lost myself.
I was floating.
My heart humming.
My soul swimming.
HIs lips against mine were soft and gentle, yet not unyielding in passion. Without realising it, I parted my mouth. He read my intent and gently slipped his tongue between my lips. I did the same to his and we locked into each other like that for what seemed an eternity more.
And then he pulled away.
“Sorry about that,” he said casually, glancing to his side.
I followed his eye and saw that Salazar had just walked past our booth, two of his bodyguards in tow. The kiss was a way to avert attention from us.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or even angrier because of that.
“You fucking better be sorry,” was all I could muster.
Roman downed his second drink and got out of the booth.
“You should keep a low profile from now on, Miss Petrov,” he whispered sternly. “This is not another stone that you want to turn over…trust me.”
He left before I could say another word. He had not been lying; if he knew who I was then it was possible that so did Salazar and his people.
This whole evening had been a waste.
I slipped out of the club through the service entrance, not wanting to draw the attention of the man who had been watching me.
In all my years of being an investigative journalist this had never happened to me before. I had lost control of the situation. I'd been made the moment I had set foot in that club.
I hailed a cab and pulled off the wig as soon as I climbed in.
Someone had ratted me out but it seemed impossible as I was always extremely careful concerning my sources. It would seem that Salazar had a few in his pocket.
I needed to call Margret and question her about all this; she was the one who had given me the false identity who turned out to be an actual person. I also had to call Atlas…he was the one who had given me the pass to get into the club.
They were the only two people who knew I was going to be following Salazar, so one of them had to be the leak, and the one who almost got me killed if Roman Cabot was to be believed.
(The Du Morte Tower, Paris)
Two men and a woman lounged in a luxurious office that looked more like a lounge than a place wherethat business was conducted.
The office in question belonged to the woman, while the two men were her colleagues, fellow board members who rarely left their estates in Italy and Japan to deal with company issues.
But here they were, both looking rather upset. The woman shared their frustrations but the fact that they were there meant that they wanted to do something drastic, something dangerous.
“He’s gone too far,” the older of the two men said angrily, “We’ve been thriving for almost two decades without Du Morte trying to bankrupt us, and now this obsession of his is going to lose us everything! You know that Interpol is looking into us right, and our ties to Salazar are not helping anything.”
“Alleged ties,” the woman corrected, lighting a cigarette, “There is nothing that can be traced back to us.”
“That is beside the point,” the younger man said, a lot more calm than his colleague. “We have successfully avoided what could have been the largest scandal in Europe. If the girl is still alive as Rhoald believes then it still doesn’t warrant all this paranoia. She was what, six or seven when it happened? She would not be a threat.”
“I agree,” The older man lit a cigar as well, “Roald needs to come to his senses before he takes us all down with him. The board needs to do something”
“And will you be the one to lead this coup against our ruthlessly leader,” The woman laughed mirthlessly. “Need I remind you that we are only as wealthy as we are because Roald had the nerve to do what the rest of us could only dream of. Without him we’d all be twiddling our thumbs while still dealing with Du Morte’s self-righteousness.
“Yes I agree that his obsessioned with finding a dead girl is dangerous, especially with Interpol sniffing at our heels. But Roald is more dangerous to us if he senses that we’re not entirely with him.”
“So we traded a jester for a tyrant,” the older man huffed.
“The tyrant did make us richer thant we would have ever dreamed,” the younger one added reluctantly.
“Put the whole intervention on a backburner; the more Roald loses his common sense, the more support we’ll have from the other board members if the worst comes to pass.”
The woman nodded, turning her chair to face the window. She often wondered if all the wealth in the world had been worth the blood on their hands, and being chained to the devil who was bathed in it.