The three large screens in front of him flashed with a variety of feeds. The center screen was split into nine individual squares, providing various views of the red carpet in the wake of the explosion. As anticipated, a sense of chaos pervaded the entire scene, even almost two hours later. For all of law enforcement's efforts to contain it, the crowd grew with remarkable speed. If he hadn't been responsible for the bombing—and thus preoccupied with making sure that this phase of his plan didn't jeopardize any of the others—he would have taken a moment to relish the primal obsession with tragedy and death. It made his job substantially easier.
He paced behind four employees tapping away on their computers, noting with satisfaction the way one younger man's posture stiffened. A healthy fear of his superiors was one of the reasons that he hired him. "Zoom in on the blast site," he said carefully. It was impossible to see exactly where the blast had occurred with all of the activity, but it was sectioned off from the rest of the carpet.
The level of chaos was truly an unexpected boon.
The screen on the far right had a live feed of trending topics on social media. So far, the bombing was near the top on two continents.
Just wait until Asia woke up.
It was satisfying, seeing his plans come to fruition. Now came the truly arduous task of waiting. There would be a lot more waiting before anything else could happen.
He forced himself to ignore Daphne's name trending above the bombing on both continents and wondered if anyone else could feel the hatred coming off of him in waves. Of course the brat would find some way to interfere with his headline-grabbing first shot.
At first, he had been overjoyed to watch her be so publicly humiliated by a man she loved. It made him feel more complete knowing that she was experiencing some kind of emotional pain. The announcement of Gustavo Bellone's infidelity had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. Untangling the web of who was responsible for that bit of journalism would be a diverting use of an afternoon someday soon. However, watching all of the tweets and posts talking about the information being revealed on the red carpet was nothing short of nauseating. He had never understood the public's eagerness to align themselves with someone wealthy and attractive. The Princess of Montrovia's life would remain charmed whether any of these strangers "supported" her or not. She probably wouldn't even see their outpouring of consternation on her behalf — she had people to monitor her social media outlets.
The man turned from the screen and forced himself to take a deep breath. In all of his daydreams about his plans coming to fruition, he had forgotten how quickly his disgust for the royal family could overtake him. He shook his head in an effort to clear it.
He had chosen the European Film Awards specifically because Daphne was attending. A bombing anywhere with dozens of attractive humans would obviously be a large draw. Threaten someone with a lifelong air of mystery like Princess Daphne, though, and he knew he had stumbled on the perfect platform from which to set his plan in motion.
He calmed himself slightly by imagining his satisfaction when he revealed himself as the architect of suffering upon her family. Instinctively, he flexed his left hand, the constant stiffness in his fingers a reminder of everything that he had lost. He had waited decades. He could wait a little bit longer.
"I don't understand why Italy's premiere police agency is so inept at their jobs!" He barked at no one in particular. Three people at computers in front of him jumped.
"Maybe they Policia are afraid to mess anything up? The eyes of the entire world are on them until this is solved. Or else all of the bodyguards are gumming up the works instead of helping the agents process the crime scene faster." A trim woman with auburn hair walked up beside him, her tone much more detached than the man standing next to her. She shot her boss a bemused glance. "Aren't you always telling me that I need to be more patient?"
YOU ARE READING
The Elite (Romantic Suspense)
Romance"Keep your head down," he said. "I don't like what's going on in there." Daphne leaned forward until she was almost bent in half, cheek pressed against the satin skirt of her gown. "What is happening in there?" she managed after a moment. And who ar...
