Lethal

Chapter 3: Dinner

Alexandra

A couple of hours later, I walked back and forth inside The Factory's office, explaining to my boss all that had happened a few hours ago. Feroz and Wayne were busy overseeing the cleaning crew that had been called to tidy up the mess and Penelope had gone to the back office to see if any of her informants had replied to her.

"Why the hell was he even there?" Xavier's voice came through the phone, which I'd put on speaker as I paced restlessly inside the office.

"He came here to accuse me of killing people from his family." I explained, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation, "Apparently, someone murdered them and left behind my signature."

"Did you tell him that you didn't?" he asked.

"Of course I did."

"Did he believe you?"

"I'd like to think yes."

"Did he say something else?"

I chewed my bottom lip, pausing for a second before answering him, "He wanted my help to find out who was behind the murders. But I turned him down."

"You do know about his stubborn reputation, right?" Xavier asked, "He does not handle refusal very well."

"He'll just have to." I answered, rolling my eyes, "Besides, I told him that I am currently not working for anyone right now."

After a little more follow up, I hung up the phone and placed it back in my pocket, just as the door opened and Penelope barged in, holding between her fingers some papers.

"I got the name." she panted, "And you're not going to believe who it is."

"Who?" I asked, moving towards her.

"His name is Franco," she explained, "and he's a close aide of our most recent guest, Mr. Alistair Donati."

Sure enough, there were a bunch of pictures in which Alistair and Franco were seen together. These were surveillance or stake-out photographs, taken secretly from afar.

I took out my phone again and picked up the card Alistair had left me, dialing his number.

"Alistair Donati's office, how may I help you?" a feminine voice greeted me.

"Yeah, I need to talk to your boss," I answered. There was no point in exchanging fruitless courtesies.

"May I know who this is?"

"Alexandra," I replied curtly.

"Well, Alexandra, can you tell me what this call is regarding?"

"Just tell him my name. He'll know what it's about." I answered, impatiently tapping my foot.

There was a moment of silence, a little shuffling and then Alistair's deep voice traveled through the phone.

"I wasn't expecting your call this early." he mused.

"It wasn't on my agenda." I replied smoothly, "But we need to talk."

"Alright." comes his curt reply, his tone changing from amused to serious, "How about my place, around eight-thirty? We can have dinner together."

"Screw your dinner." I spat, "I want to know why your men made an unprovoked attack at our house in Chicago last night."

"That is a serious accusation, Alexandra." his tone became serious.

"It's not an accusation, it's a fact." I replied, "I have with me a picture of your associate Franco at the scene."

He was silent for a few moments, and it made me wonder if he'd hung up on me. But then his deep voice traveled again through the phone.