DD's // TOSKA

- THREE -

Damon and Deetra's mansion smelled like weed and pricey alcohol already. Wealthy people from all over Great Britain were between these walls exchanging money and drugs, and no one in the police knew. Well, that's what the police chief was saying again and again, at least. According to him, no one in the police knew Damon's exact location. God knows how many cops Damon had paid to keep them quiet. There were gold and diamonds at every corner, along with bodyguards and security. Some people were already high, but Damon was nowhere to be seen. Or that's what Abigail was thinking. The last time she saw him was seven years ago; she barely knew what he looked like. Holding the picture of a young Damon and a glass of champagne, she started rushing around, observing every male passing by. No one looked like an old Damon or him at all.

Abigail walked to the hallway, away from the music, the drugs, and the alcohol, to calm down and think. She pushed her body against the rose wall and looked at the photo. Damon seemed like such a bright young boy. What went wrong? Family went wrong. She shoved the picture back in her purse and took a small package out. Abigail took a cigarette and put it between her lips. She tried to find her lighter, cursing before hearing a couple of footsteps. Someone was close, coming straight to her. She kept her glare low, still searching.

"Let me light it up for you, young lady."

A small fire appeared out of nowhere, burning the edge of the cigarette. Her eyes focused on it and then at the man in front of her.

Dark ginger -almost brown- hair, amber eyes, a toothy smile on his lips. She could recognize this face anywhere. It was Damon, and when she realized it, her eyes widened, and her face went pale. She didn't know what to say.

Damon gasped when he saw the woman behind the cigarette. Abigail was almost the same since high school. Still irresistible to him. His eyes moved from her face to her stomach, facing her silhouette, which was trapped in a tight black dress. "Still sexy." he thought, smirking before moving the lighter away and pushing it in his pocket.

"Abigail Miller - What a surprise."

"Damon Hopkins."

"What... what are you doing here? Did you come alone?"

Abigail gulped, bringing her fingers to the cigarette. She puffed the smoke out to his face before laughing. Damon coughed, bringing his hand to his mouth, still starring at her with a confused look.

"I came with a friend. A rich friend in need of drugs."

"Name?"

"Lester Allen."

"Oh! He's here too!? Double surprise."

"It's been a long time since I've seen you."

"Right. I'll be truthful; that champagne of yours is nothing in front of the bottles of wine I have in my office."

"I'd love to check them out. Shall we go?"

"Of course."

Damon held her hand softly, walking through the hallways and the rooms of his mansion. Abigail's high heels were echoing loudly along with Damon's brogues. He got a pair of keys from his pocket, opening the office's door before pushing her in gently and closing it behind him. Abigail was studying each of Damon's actions carefully.

Damon turned on the lights as Abigail faced a bright brown wooden office and an expensive leather chair. A bunch of plants and bookcases were in the corner of the room beside the large window. The office smelled like marijuana. She opened the window when he was choosing the best bottle for them. Abigail looked outside, facing the mansion's outdoor pool.

"You'll love this - Cheval Blanc 1947. It costs around 250.000 pounds."

"Expensive."

"It is but worth it."