45: Let it lay there

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The night after the charity gala, I got something in the mail

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The night after the charity gala, I got something in the mail.

My assistant had left it on my desk, making sure that my men had it checked over before giving it to me. One could never be too safe.

The box was filled with red roses. The scent was sickly sweet, almost as if someone had sprayed blood and rose water on them.

There was a card attached to one of the stems. I was careful as I picked it up, avoiding the sharp thorns.

It was a thick piece of card stock that smelled just like the roses, the edges dipped in gold and my name spelt carefully in glossy black ink.

This wasn't a gift from Meera. She hated red roses.

I opened the card carefully, apprehensive about what I would find.

What in the ever-loving fuck was I reading

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What in the ever-loving fuck was I reading. I flipped to the back to see if there was any sort of clue.

Someone had to be playing a prank on me.

My life just couldn't be easy, could it? There's always someone or something throwing a wrench in my plans. Except for this time, it was a bouquet of red flowers and a creepy note.

The phone rang on my desk and I knew that this was going to be something I couldn't miss.

"Hello?" I answered gruffly.

The line was silent. It was a bit unnerving to hear nothing.

"Hello?" I tried again. "Look, buddy. I've been through a lot of shit but this has to be the most hilarious thing I've ever witnessed. Who the fuck are you?"

"Hey, Ivan."

I felt my fingers tighten around the glass. "You didn't answer the question. Who the fuck are you?"

The other person chuckled, his voice slightly distorted as if he were making a long-distance call. "All those times we fought and you still don't remember my voice. What a shame. And here I thought that we had a connection."

I scrubbed my hand down my face. His voice dug into my ear like a worm.

"Arlo." I spat out. "I'm not glad to see that you're alive."

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