Ex-soldier Birmingham-gangster bets his life on luck and illegalities, adroit wit and burning passion streaking his blood-stained fingertips as a dire quarrel commence between himself and the disturbed Dane who purloined his lover.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BUSINESS PRO FORMA
"JOIN ME FOR DINNER." It was Mr. Brogaard from the night before that rescued her from the irksome thoughts when the bell had rung at Congress, signaling supper soon would be served. Pulled from Ines' daze, she turned to face him and her semi-shocked grimace was replaced by a greeting smile and she accepted his extended arm.
Even before having the money to look somewhat decent, Ines had always cared for outer appearance. Despite always hearing it was what was on the inside that mattered, over time she only grew to learn how wrong that saying was. Although sweet and surely a phrase people should keep in mind, it was not the way of the world. It was shallow but a natural instinct following the human manual. What the eye sees is what they get, and if they get something nice, they will want more. Should they catch something less interesting, something less appeal, they will likely have had enough with a hasty glance thus whatever potential deal on the table-blown.
That was why Ines, ones again, was in her best dress. Stunning powder blue was her color today and just to make things a bit interesting, she had made a daring choice and have her jewelry a fresh nuance of orange. What had made her choose colors opposing each other like that she did not know, only that she was feeling bolt standing in the large, polished mirror in her hotel room.
The kind sir, Nikolaj Brogaard, he was himself sporting a well-fitted, tailored suit in dark grey, with a green tie hiding away behind his waistcoat.
Exchanging formalities on their way to the table, Ines spilled the news and told Nikolaj that she agreed to his offer anent coming to Berlin. Pleased by the enlightenment, the table drank a toast and Nikolaj then explained all he had planned out, having Ines grow excited about the business trip by every passing moment.
The third and last day of the international business conference was spent much like the second; speaking to Mr. Brogaard much more than with anyone else. By the stroke of nine o'clock on the day of the 23rd, Ines bid him farewell.
Before parting ways they arranged the date the decided consulting would take place, making it the first week of February. She learned the accent lingering his every word derived from Denmark, as he had spent the majority of his life in the small country, up until he found himself attending a business school abroad. Upon finishing up his degree in Boston, Massachusetts he returned to Europe to work for a prestigious organization in Kiel as a bookkeeper, later promoted to chief financial officer. As he was introduced to wealth he became wildly interested in starting up his own enterprise and did exactly that with nearly no fuzz.
The long way home that was waiting ahead made Ines jaded itself. She was thankful Anton Maes was not the type to depend on another to keep a conversation going; he did that just fine by himself. And therefore, Ines could rest her weary head against the purple, soft seating. Before she noticed just how tired she had been, she drifted off to the sound of Anton's diligent monologue.
. . .
"THIS GOES SIDEWAYS BOY and this family is done for good," said Polly, her tone falling in the category of every synonym to a concoction of both serious and angry; beyond furious in fact, as she saw it more clear than ever-the doom of the Shelby clan. She was absolutely done with this man's careless actions and dealings.
To think that there had been a time where she was briefed of a dealing with the purpose of her sentiment and approach before the act was carried out, was far away and unacceptable to even think of. How dare he think so little of her.
"First all the shit with the Russians now you pull this stunt! You have got to be a great deal of thick in the head to think no one will look twice 'cause of John running around cutting the Italians."
From her stance across the room with the hard glare and stiff face, Thomas could tell that his aunt was furious.
It took him no trouble, admitting to his deed had caused the slightest trouble, but it was no more than what he had foreseen and judged not to make to much of a problem. Had Polly not been in the place with her son entangled in the family way, she would have reacted differently and on those grounds, Thomas saw it fit to think: why should now be any different? After all, he had been the one to introduce Michael to his rightful mother and now that gave him no reason to risk the boy's life, he knew that, but he never saw how he was putting him on the line.
"I have it all under control, Poll—same as always," said Tommy although his voice was nowhere near as assuring as it should have been, his eyes widened and an exhausted look made out the expression on his face.
"You better, 'cause if anything happens to my Michael—I swear to God, Thomas." Her voice had calmed and found it's usual tone, and that was the most frightening of it all. To make her case clear, no threat was needed; she knew that and so did Thomas. For he might have grown wise over the past years, but at the end of the day, it was Polly Gray that had her way as the matriarch.
Spinning sharply on her heel, she brought the hat over her head securing it with a pin and was then on her way, slamming the door behind her to make sure to leave a sour taste in her nephew's mouth.
