Serpentine Empire

Chapter 5

Dressed in the suit Isabel had purchased for me, I made my way downstairs, stepping out into the cool evening. Parked in front of my shabby apartment was Hector, seated in a sleek black Cadillac Escalade.

"Get in," he said tersely, motioning to the passenger side.

I climbed in, closing the door behind me. "Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

"Ask fewer questions," Hector snapped, his voice as cold as his gaze.

As we drove in silence, my mind raced. Who is Hector? He wasn't just some bodyguard—his composure, his lethal efficiency from the store incident, and his expensive attire suggested something more. Was he a hitman for Isabel? Or perhaps her right-hand man? Yet, he called her boss. Maybe he wasn't either. The way he carried himself exuded wealth and professionalism, far beyond what I'd expect from muscle for hire.

And then there was the big question: Where were we going?

The road signs revealed our destination—Beverly Hills. Again.

Since Isabel entered my life, everything had felt surreal and impossibly extravagant. This was her world: wealth, power, and a dangerous elegance. The Kuntz Group wasn't just any corporation; it was a multi-billion-dollar empire. But where did Isabel fit into that hierarchy? Was she an heiress, a puppet, or something far more dangerous?

Breaking the silence, Hector's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Listen carefully. When we arrive, don't ask questions. Don't speak unless spoken to. If you do, you'll be killed."

"Killed?" I asked, shocked by the casual tone in which he said it.

He turned to me, his expression grim. "Don't make me repeat myself. Stick to Isabel. Don't take your eyes off her. If anything happens to her, I'll personally kill you."

His words left no room for doubt. I nodded, my body tense with unease.

What kind of place are we going to?

It wasn't long before we arrived at a gated estate. Armed guards patrolled the entrance, rifles slung over their shoulders. Menacing guard dogs prowled the perimeter, their low growls audible even from inside the SUV.

Hector rolled down the window, exchanging pleasantries with the guards as if this were routine.

"Who's the guy?" one of them asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Damon. Isabel's new security," Hector replied curtly.

"New security, huh? After what happened to the last guy, I'm surprised anyone's willing to take the job," the guard said with a chuckle.

My stomach twisted. What happened to the last guy?

Cleared for entry, we drove up a winding road lined with immaculately trimmed hedges and sparkling lights. At the end of the drive stood a massive mansion, its grandeur eclipsing anything I'd ever seen. Expensive cars lined the driveway, and the guests milling about outside were dressed in the finest designer attire, radiating an aura of wealth and power.

A party for LA's elites, I thought, already feeling out of place.

"Get out," Hector commanded as he stopped the SUV in front of the mansion.

I stepped out, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. "Now what?" I muttered under my breath.

"We go in," a familiar voice said.

I turned to see Isabel approaching, her arm slipping around mine with practiced ease. She was stunning, dressed in a Balmain long sequin palm tree dress paired with black heels. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, and a touch of makeup highlighted her already flawless features.

"Beautiful," I thought aloud before realizing it.

"You're staring too hard again," she teased with a chuckle.

"Tsk. I'm not the only one," I shot back, glancing at the men whose eyes lingered on her as she walked.

"Men will be men," she said dismissively. "Ignore them. Let's head inside."

The interior of the mansion was breathtaking, an opulent display of wealth and taste. Chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their crystals casting a dazzling glow. Every corner was filled with intricate details, from gilded moldings to polished marble floors. It was a world I'd only ever seen in movies.

"Isabel?" a voice called out.

A woman approached, her sleek designer dress and perfectly styled hair giving her an air of practiced sophistication.

"Lauren," Isabel said coolly, giving her a polite but detached smile.

"It's been ages," Lauren said. "Since London, I think?"

"I've been busy," Isabel replied. "It's not easy being the face of a fashion brand."

Lauren's eyes shifted to me. "And who's this handsome fellow? A new plaything?"

Isabel's grip on my arm tightened. "This is Damon," she said, her tone sharp. "My new bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" Lauren asked with a raised brow. "The way you're clinging to him, I'd have guessed otherwise."

Isabel's jaw tightened, her irritation barely concealed. "He's not here for your entertainment," she said curtly. "Perhaps another time, I'll introduce him properly."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Isabel finally pulled me away.

"That whore was practically undressing you with her eyes," Isabel muttered under her breath.

"I thought you were friends?" I asked.

"Friends? None of these people are my friends. They're business partners at best, stepping stones at worst." Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion.

As we moved deeper into the party, an older man approached.

"Isabella," he greeted warmly.

"Uncle Alberto," she replied, giving him a small hug.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in ages," he said.

"I've been busy," Isabel replied. "London, mostly. I just moved back to LA."

"London? Another trade?"

"Something big," Isabel said, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Alberto chuckled. "Just like your grandfather. A true businesswoman at heart."

Isabel's eyes glinted. "We're a family of snakes, Uncle. We wrap ourselves around money and never let go."

"Indeed. A dangerous family at that," Alberto said. "Oh, I nearly forgot. I've got a new product launching soon. You should visit my villa before I head back to Spain."

"I will," Isabel replied. "When are you leaving?"

"This Friday."

"Then I'll see you Thursday," she said, her tone final.

For the next couple of hours, people flocked to Isabel like moths to a flame. They were all vying for her attention, seeking her favor, or simply basking in her presence.

"You're popular," I remarked.

"They're leeches," Isabel replied coldly. "Not friends. They're all looking for a way into my pockets."

Before I could respond, a security guard approached. "Lady Isabel, Anthony is ready."

"Finally," Isabel said with a sigh. "I was getting bored of these vultures. Lead the way."

As the guard escorted us deeper into the mansion, the tension in the air thickened.

Who is Anthony? And what does Isabel want with him?

The night was far from over, and I had the sinking feeling that whatever lay ahead would drag me even deeper into Isabel's shadowy world.