Army of Sin - Season 2 - The Gathering

Episode XVI - Severance Package

Location: Eze, France

He swirled the contents of his glass with feigned calm, containing his anger until the woman returned. He had observed her, flittering between tables like a hummingbird, a genuine smile on her face as she chatted delightedly with her guests. She even laughed at something the group in the centre of the restaurant said, a lovely blush stealing up her neck. Yet as she approached where he sat, he saw the smile slip, saw her mutter something to herself before plastering a smile on her face.

“Bonne nuit Monsieur Brock,” she offered, keeping her tone professional.

“Tell Gigi I wish to see her!” he ordered.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

He shackled her wrist, tugging her closer to the table, “You can start by telling me why you deny me. We have known each other these past three years and at every turn you keep me at arm’s length.”

“With all due respect Sir,” Marriel began, slowly attempting to pull her wrist free without drawing the attention of other guests, “You are our guest here.”

“Oh, semantics dear.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Semantics, you know, all a matter of how you phrase it,” he waved her off dismissively. He pulled again, using her off-balanced reaction to pull her unto his lap before snaking an arm around her waist.

Heavens, she smells great! She should be mine, he thought.

“Monsieur…” 

“Now, now, call me Kenneth. Now and perhaps later,” he whispered, voice dropping as he spoke near the lobe of her ear.

She shivered in response.

Marriel tried her best to hide her revulsion, yet her body trembled nonetheless – a mixture of rage and disgust. “Let me get Madame Gigi,” Marriel barely got out, gently attempting to pry his arms from around her waist.

“Oui, you do that,” he responded, freeing her at last.

                           ➖➖➖

Gigi swung out of the double doors with no sense of flair or hurry, smiling at the guests seated at the round table. They would be departing soon; a number of them having a single scoop of ice cream respectively as celebration. In the back of her mind she still processed what Marriel had said about that guest laying a hand on her. Unforgivable, she thought to herself – there were no two ways around it.

Kenneth Brock would have his last meal at Le Sanctuaire tonight, she vowed to herself and to the sexually harassed young woman seated in her office.

“Good evening Monsieur,” she greeted, making no attempt at fake pleasantries, “I understand you requested an audience?”

His eyes narrowed at her choice of words before he reached for his now quarter filled glass of wine, “Oui,” he replied, accent pronunceably Texan.

“How may I help?” she asked, hands clasped loosely in front of her, calm and serene.

“The girl, Marriel, I want her to return with me to America.”

 Gigi allowed his words to sink in, not sure that she had heard him correctly, “I beg your pardon?”

“What good is she here when I can offer her an opportunity to see the world? I offer one million and she shall come with me whenever I return to your restaurant, which is at least three times for the year.”