Immortal

Money (Chapter 5)

Selma Whitiker decided to take the afternoon to relax after interviewing the young girl that Dana had recommended. She would not be needed in the bar for the day and the paperwork could very well wait.

She let her mind drift to the girl who had just left her house. Little did she know to whom she would really be performing. However, Selma was sure the ginger would be alright amongst syndicate members. She sure seemed very eager to get that gig, though. Lucky gal, she thought as she fetched the book she was currently reading. If it wasn't for Dana, she wouldn't have gotten to me because I'd never have given her a chance at first sight.

Stepping inside the fancy downstairs living room, she sat down comfortably on a pearl white armchair near her lit fireplace, putting on her reading glasses. She did not get to read much before she was distracted, spotting by the corner of her eye one of the house's maids. This particular one made her grit her teeth.

"You there," she called for the worker, her voice coming off a bit more aggressive than she intended.

"Yes ma'am?" The small, black haired, asian girl, wearing the same black uniform every other servant wore, promptly turned around nervously, giving the scowling house owner her full attention.

"A martini, please. Make sure to use the good Vermouth this time, not the one we serve at parties." Whoever said the best things in life are free? Pfft! 

"Certainly ma'am. Right away." With those hurried words, she was gone in an instant. Selma lengthily sighed, calming herself down, and let her gaze drop to her book once again.

In almost no time, a glass was being sat on the granite table next to the armchair by a lightly trembling hand. Without acknowledging the servant, she lifted the glass and took a sip. "Well done," she uttered in a detached tone, not sincerely meaning the compliment. She almost wished it was bad so that she could barrage her least favorite worker. That'd sure put her in a good mood.

The girl let out a breath that she was holding. "Thank you, missus Whitiker. Do you need anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. You may go." With a slight bow, the young lady retreated from the room.

The woman immersed herself in the story and did not notice time slip by until the cook knocked to announce that dinner was ready. She set the book aside and walked the confusingly long hallway towards the empty dining room.

Sitting at the dining room's table by herself she began to wonder how much longer her husband would be gone for. With the Red Dragon's attempted power shift and all the mess that came along with it, Rocco hadn't been home for longer than it took him to get a good night's sleep. She was pretty sure no one else besides him was putting in that much effort, but that was just how her husband was. He worked harder than anyone to get where was now.

Aside from the money laundering business that she co-owned with her husband, she didn't like to get more involved than she needed to with everything related to the syndicate. Her strong suit was forging bonds and connections within the organization, which she then masterfully strengthened through the business. If she had reasons to suspect someone could be plotting against her or her husband, she'd pull some strings to make them back off or disappear. But that was as far as she would go since she abhorred witnessing violence.

Even though she wasn't usually up to date with the inner workings of the organization, she knew from the moment her husband told her he was siding with Vicious for the coup that the coming days would not be particularly pleasant. Even though he'd been caught and incarcerated, her husband ominously let her know that things were going according to plan. She had never met anyone as terrifying as that "Vicious" man, having chills from just thinking about it.