Allure

Ch. 1: Blackmail

ELAINE

My fingernails clink against the side of my wine glass. The dark liquid within ripples and stirs. The equally dark lipstick stain on the rim of the glass taunts me - a reminder that this is my third refill, and the glass is already almost empty again.

I charged the bottle of overpriced bitterness to Christian's running tab. His blatant disrespect for my time warrants it. I don't have time for his tardiness tonight, and he's already twenty minutes late.

If not for the unwritten contract between the two of us, I would stand up and leave. Show him the cost of wasting my time. However, as much as I can't afford to spend all night alone in this bustling restaurant, I really can't afford the consequences of bailing.

Right on cue, the doors to the private dining area fling open. Christian walks in with his infamous feline smile. The smile he has curated and perfected over the course of 27 years of growing up in a dog eat dog industry where appearances are everything and money truly makes the world go 'round.

I take the final, long sip from my glass. I reach for the outrageously expensive bottle to refill it once more. Without making eye contact, I mutter, "You're late. As always."

I don't have to look at Christian to know a smirk is forming on his lips. He's a shamelessly cocky motherfucker.

Still, he clears his throat as he settles himself into the chair across from me. "My condolences for keeping you waiting. I had some important business to attend to."

Important business, like being a pain in my ass.

Swallowing down my internal dialogue, I don't bother acknowledging his comment. Instead, I only prompt, "I assume you've dragged me here to cash in on our bargain?"

"On the contrary, my love," Christian purrs, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, "just the opposite. I've come on behalf of your father."

I allow one of my eyebrows to raise in interest. "What could my father possibly need from me?"

Christian reaches into his coat pocket and fishes out a folded up piece of paper. When he presents it to me, my eyebrows narrow. A newspaper clipping stares up at me. The photo is of Emilio Cyril, an untouchable businessman with direct ties to the Italian mafia and owner of one of my father's largest competitors. My eyes skim the headline accompanying the photo.

Business Tycoon Emilio Cyril Found Dead Following Tragic Boating Accident

Interesting.

My eyes find their way back to Christian's face. His caramel colored eyes look like they could see straight into my soul. I do not waver under his gaze, though. The only time I ever bend to him is when he forces me to pay my debts in exchange for his silence.

My eyebrows edge closer together. "What does this have to do with me?"

Christian leans back against his chair. His eyes never leave mine. He looks far more serious now than he did moments ago.

"As I am sure you can imagine, there is some... speculation surrounding Emilio's untimely demise," Christian explains.

Ahh. This must be why he requested we have the private dining room. Away from listening ears.

Christian continues. "There have been rumors stirring that Emilio was planning to run us out of business. Lorenzo has requested you do some digging. Find out if the rumors are true and if his son, Dante, plans to follow through with his father's plans, as he now sits on the throne over his family's empire."

A wave of concern floods my body. The Cyril family is heavily protected by the mafia. No one has dared ever cross them. Those who have tried have quickly found themselves in body bags, or worse. Several years ago, there was a rumor that one of Emilio's associates tried to blackmail him. The man went missing, and allegedly, a box containing a human tongue was delivered to his wife a few weeks later.