Hostiles (BWWM) 2/3

5 years 82 days

Edinburgh, Scotland

Five years and 82 days. That's how long it had been since Dionysius Plutarch had set eyes on Makenna Lewasi, formerly his fiancée and the woman of his dreams, currently the ghost that haunted his wake and sleep and the purveyor of the grandest betrayal he had ever faced. It would have been 83 days this evening if he wasn't seated in the back of his Sius prime staring out of his tinted windows at her. She was currently standing behind a counter, staring wide-eyed at one of his women, looking every inch the magnificent seductress that she was in that maddeningly innocent way.

At this safe distance he is lost in the smile on her plum tinted juicy lips, the sparkle of deep rich honey eyes, the rich earthy honeyed mahogany of her skin. He is lost in such perfection, perfection he could still remember even after five years and eighty two days. He didn't expect the years to have done her so magnificently... He couldn't tell if she had changed or not but she was stunning, her skin dark and glistening in marvelous ways in an opalescent peach off shoulder dress that held on gloriously to all the curves he was itching to press his lips into. This is why he's been inconsolably miserable for five years. He couldn't replace the feel, sight and taste of her...and yet he could never trust someone as heartless, not ever, not after what she did to him.

Dio didn't have a reason to be here, her little perfumery/bijouterie would be his and she will know it by end of day, his sharks had been seeing to it since last night. He didn't have a reason to be sitting here supervising his people steal her business right from under her nose, yet what was the point of planning a punishment so cruel if he wasn't going to watch her crumble from it?

Sasha walks out of the shop, the documents tucked in her case under her arm. She walks to the Sius, anticipating the kind of raise she would get for this little task. Her instincts were already buzzing with questions and their possible answers. Was Plutarch diversifying his portfolio into jewelry and perfumery? If so, why a small insignificant local label like this? Why was the boss personally present at such a mediocre task as buying a shop's mortgage and debt and letting the owner know she was now under their portfolio? Did this have something to do with how stunning the owner was? From what Sasha knew of Plutarch's reputation, he was a bit of a womanizer... so why had he gone through the trouble of coming all the way here and then hiding in his car? Nothing was making sense!

Had she just bought off or bribed someone's wife or mistress? Sasha tries to quell her racing mind as the car's back window rolls slightly down, allowing her enough space to slip the document case in. Plutarch was really here! In the flesh! To oversee the acquiring of a little local boutique!

"We had a little chat about change in ownership of the bank. Stocks and such and how in effect she's now our client." Sasha explains to the man himself

She's met with a heavy solid silence, so she presses on.

"While she seemed concerned about the bank, she signed the papers. We effectively own 57% of Angelic Etherium ltd." she announces, brimming with curiosity now

"Thank you Sarah." His deep voice states, firm and controlled

Sasha, not Sarah. 

 Biting back her words, she moves out of the way of the opening door. 

Dionysius Plutarch emerges from the back of the car, his bespoke suit exquisitely cut to match his build and taste. Sasha wasn't even into men but there was no denying the kind of dizzying presence Plutarch was famed for. She didn't know about Greek gods and all of that but he definitely looked like a sculpture come alive in all its beauty and power.