Cupid's Defence

Chapter 4

iv.

When Louis got to the firm, it was packed outside, and he didn't really stop to think why aside from the fact that he was literally taking the biggest business couple in the country to court (but, in his defence, that idea had not yet sunk in). He literally had to push through the doors, which was not only difficult, as there were tens upon tens of reporters outside, but quite annoying, and he entered the building feeling quite pissed off.

They continued to holler loud questions at him through the glass, and he stopped only to ruffle his hair before continuing on.

He was met with a thick set of muscles.

"Oof," he collided, and took a step back, "Sorry."

Louis clenched his nose and then frowned, realising that there should not have been muscles in his way. He looked up, and there was a man stood there, in the fucking lobby of the building.

"Wait. Who are you?" He asked, bewildered.

If this was a client, he sure didn't look like it: heavily muscular and dressed in black from shoulder to shoulder, about fifty fucking feet tall, with a bald head and a earpiece twirled around his ear. Louis looked to the left, and there was another one, completely the same, but with a long, shaggy beard and an eyebrow piercing to boot.

"Are you security?" He took a step back, eyes wide.

They didn't answer, and Louis became thoroughly, completely, confused. Reverting to his age-old method of asking Liam, he quickly walked past them, and clambered up the stairs.

Liam's office door was open when he got there, and it looked like he had clients. He noted, unsettled, that Liam's fairy lights seemed to be turned off, which gave it a rather cold ambience. Nonetheless, he knocked, and then, he entered.

The first thing he noticed was Liam's posture. He was sat at his desk, facing his clients, posture restricted and his face quite pale. The second thing he noticed was the thick stack of money on the desk.

Then, he noticed Sheila Lyvoninsky.

She was sat squat in her chair, a deep burgundy suit on, and her braids were clipped short on either side of her ears. Beside her, sat Tim, a chubby and frail looking man, with a big nose and lightly bleached hair.

"What." Louis said, looking from her to Liam, "The fuck. Is going. On."

Liam's eyes widened, and Louis realised that he should have curbed his language all too late. Sheila turned around, thin eyebrows raised in question, and her lips, also painted purple, slightly pursed. Tim wiped his sweaty brow, and stared vigilantly at the stack of money on the table.

"I don't believe we've met," Sheila said, and she stuck out a hand, "I'm Mrs Lyvoninsky, soon to be Harbell. This is Mr Lyvoninsky."

"Hi," Louis replied, weakly taking the hand. She had a firm, leathery grip, one that left an imprint on your hand.

"We were just...talking," Liam offered, softly, and the poor sod looked scared for his life.

"Yes." Sheila let go of the handshake, briskly so, "We were just looking to save you a whole lot of time."

"By...Giving us money?" Louis frowned, "No offence, Mrs Lyvoninsky, but I don't see how that would help."

"Let me lay it on the line, then," Sheila blinked, "I want this to be easy. Let me make this easy. This money is so you'll leave the case well alone."

A moment of silence rang in the air, in which Louis stared, blankly, and Liam looked as though he was about to cry.

"A bribe," Louis commented, bland.