The Odyssey || 𝗕𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲

Five | Bravado

There was probably nothing Elizabeth loathed more in the moment than her own company. That and the art of journalism.

"Ms. Jefferson," the brunette tried to stay in step with the quite quick woman in front of her who was half ignoring her, half restraining herself.

"Sources say that Gweneth Jefferson died from an accidental insulin overdose." She started, holding out the microphone.

Liz narrowed her eyes beneath her black sunglasses as she continued to walk at a considerable pace for the lady tailing her. "There's chatter about it being deliberate. Any comments on that?"

Something made Elizabeth pause her steps in her favorite Louboutins. She took a deep breath and turned to the reporter who was somewhat startled at her sudden forwardness, considering she was in a rush only a moment ago.

She wasn't angry, she couldn't have been. It was the woman's job, she understood and respected that, but she didn't like the press she was getting. Especially about Gwen.

"Though I am saddened by my aunt's death, I regret to say that we weren't very close." Her voice was dryer than she intended, she would've apologized for her crossness if she wasn't on her way to be ridiculed even more. "I hadn't heard from her in over a decade. Whatever she may have been going through, I'm upset that it had to end this way for her and that I couldn't help."

The woman creased a brow. "Are you saying that you suspect it was a suicide?"

Beneath her glasses, she narrowed her eyes again. If there was another thing she hated, it was having words being put in her mouth. "I'm saying that she's dead under some unfortunate circumstance. What I suspect wouldn't affect the damage done." And without warning, she turned away. "Excuse me." She was vexed to the point where she didn't even care to keep pace anymore.

With all of the mess happening with her family, she couldn't afford to be caught in the shit storm known as Joseph and Gweneth Jefferson's affairs. She had cleaning to do.

She refused to spare a passing glance to anyone she walked by, considering she could already feel either their discomfort or their acute disliking for her. She understood.

But she didn't care.

"Ms. Jefferson, there's someone to see you in your office." Alexi stepped into the elevator behind her boss with a tablet in her hand and her ever dry expression. Elizabeth adored Alexi Shepard. She'd yet to let her down.

"Thank you, Alexi." To her, she offered a slight smile, the only smile anyone would evidently get that day.

For as they neared the fiftieth floor of her building, Liz knew she was about to be pissed. Possibly let down. Just very not happy.

The elevator dinged, and with her chin high and her utmost confidence, she walked towards the large dark doors of her large office.

"I'll be out here if you need anything, Ms. Jefferson," Alexi spoke plainly as she stopped at her desk.

The boss nodded in response before pulling the door open by the handle.

Immediately, her brows crinkled.

One was sitting in her chair with his feet propped up on her desk while the other was looking out the window with an amused kind of grin upon his face.

Pissed it was.

"You're in my chair." She said dryly, catching both Italians' attention. The skinny one, in his dark suit and classic fedora, turned to greet her with a smirk. "Ahh Sid," he looked over at his large friend sitting at her desk, then back at her. "The princess graces us with her presence." He mockingly bowed, making her frown. "Your Highness."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and walked towards her desk to put down her Prada purse. She slightly glared at Sid who was matching his little friend. He looked up at her with a grin, clasping his fingers together.

"What do you want?" Her lack of emotion and motivation meant she couldn't care less but was just polite to ask.

"We're just here on behalf of your father." The small one she knew as Seymour spoke, putting his hands in front of him.

"My father's been in prison for two decades, love. Try again." Elizabeth walked away from her desk, over to one of the bookshelves that lined that walls.

"Look, princess," Seymour started, prompting her to glance at him. "We're just here to make sure you honor Mr. Falcone's arrangement and we'll be out of your hair."

She stared for a moment. "No."

"No?" He raised a brow.

She nodded, taking to her collection. "I've decided that I will not be honoring Mr. Falcone's arrangement." She brushed some dust before walking over to the counter that held her mugs and a new kettle from downstairs. "I'm not sure why he would think I would continue my father's legacy."

"You're on thin ice, doll." He snickered humorlessly, in hopes of intimidating the woman. "We know where you live."

"Of course you do." She glanced at him while pouring herself some tea. "But this isn't my father's empire anymore. He can't threaten me because this company belongs to me." She sounded nonchalant as she took the steaming dark blue mug to her lips.

"You know he won't be happy." Seymour was frowning now, agitated by the lack of her compliance. Everyone knew Elizabeth Jefferson was defiant to her father's reputation, but opposition was something completely different. Everything would go to shit because of her.

"That's not my problem." She shrugged before pretending to remember something. "How rude of me, I forgot to ask," she shook her head with a silly me expression. "Tea?"

He scowled. "You're gonna be in a world of hurt, lady."

At this, she smirked. Maybe she would smile again today. "Promises, promises." She fake pouted and she could see Sid glance at Seymour with worry as his face turned red with frustration. "I don't negotiate with the Mob, love." She shook her head. "Consider this little partnership terminated." She said calmly.

All the little man could do was stare at her. He wanted to hurt her, strangle her, throw her out the god damn window because she was just so calm. But he couldn't.

She was Joseph Jefferson's connection. Falcone would have his head.

"Sid." He unintentionally growled his acquaintance's name, making him stand his dramatically 6'7 height out of her chair. "Let's go."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Liz said politely as the pair angrily departed. "But please don't come back. I don't have time to be threatened by my father and his friends." She faced forward, leaned against her counter as she noticed Seymour's fist clench in her peripheral. She smirked. "I do run a sophisticated corporation, after all."

As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Elizabeth's smile fell. She put down her mug and turned, resting her hands on the surface of the counter, jaw clenched and a eyes squeezed shut.

She was so dead.