Page 34 of Wallflower

Vision darkening, the pain threatens to sweep me away. But before I black out, I’m aware of being thrown over Richmond’s shoulder.

A fall from this height might actually kill me.

Exhaustion wraps itself around every inch of my being, pulling me into its embrace. The well of adrenaline keeping me going finally running dry.

As my head hangs limp, Maximus’s words sound muffled and distant.

“I have a meeting, so keep her quiet.”

The smell of skanks hangs like a heavy curtain as I’m led through this elaborately built mansion. My guide is surprisingly taller than me, by a full head or so. It would be intimidating if he wasn’t so lanky it bordered on skeletal. His corpselike complexion lends him no aid as I brand him the resident ghost of Bleakcrest, seeing to its every need until the end of his days.

It seems inconceivable for him to be so pale. Does he not step a single foot outside?

Down a dim hallway, the sconce on the wall flickers. It immediately catches my attention, standing out like a turd in a fruit bowl in this pristine palace perched on the edge of paradise.

I almost crash into the butler due to my lack of awareness, and apologize. He nods, the hair of his long, chocolate coloured comb-over obscuring one of his eyes. “Right this way, sir,” he directs, voice scraping uncomfortably through the tension between us. Turning down another corridor, opposite to the one with the flashing light, I follow, trying to not appear eager.

However, it’s proving to be a monumental task.

Unknowingly, Mr. Maximus Smythe welcomed his biggest competition into the heart of his empire. This powerhouse that manages to one-up me at every turn. Each new deal I try to broker gets smothered by him. Even if the contacts don’t reveal him, I know it’s Max’s doing. He’s keeping me in my lane, not allowing any room for growth or expansion. I’ve only managed to keep the drugs running because he allows it. My business runs down the river into his ocean. Every tourist looking for party drugs end up in his clubs, the junkies looking for a fix crawl to his shelters for warmth, and the limp dick John’s end up in his whorehouse.

The man, who’s dressed far too proper for a place like this, stops before a dark wood door. Extending his hand, he twists the knob slowly, the sleeve of his suit jacket retracting up his forearm with the movement. The arms and legs of his suit are too short, and I wonder if he would need to have specially tailored clothes shipped to the island. Despite the formal wear, he resembles a giant stuffed into a too-small uniform.

Deep blue eyes stare down a sharp nose, observing me much too close for this late in the game. I don’t have a weapon on me, this time. The near colonoscopy I got before entering ensured that. I’m in this for the long haul, willing to do whatever it takes to earn enough credit and trust with the head of this plague on the island until I can rip it out from beneath him while he chokes on his own blood.

The door swings open, the smell of humid weather and whiskey slinking up my nose. There Maximus sits, charging the air around him by simply existing. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing the most ridiculous shirt I’ve ever seen, my mind registers it’s in the proximity of a predator as my heart rate kicks up.

This plan is honed to near perfection, over a year in the making. I even stepped into a hail of bullets to pull it off. But it doesn’t stop the nervous sweat from accumulating in every possible crevice of my body.

A cherrywood desk separates us, papers stacked neatly off to the side as Maximus Smythe watches something on the screen of his laptop. He’s so enthralled with the sight before him, I’m unsure if he notices us lingering at the entrance to his office.

A piercing scream rings out from speakers of the computer. I swear it faintly echoes in the hallway to my rear as I wait awkwardly in the doorway. A sickening grin splits Maximus’s lips, his gold canine glinting in the light. Something uncomfortable slithers down my spine, and I have to refrain from shivering in its wake.

A faint whimper sounds, then Maximus lifts his eyes from the screen. “Sir, Mr. Morgan is here for your meeting,” my chaperone near-whispers, slightly gesturing to me. I half wonder if he’s hushed his voice so as to not drown out whatever has that stomach-churning smile on his boss’s face. But I push the thought from my mind as it will only rattle me further.

Maximus delicately closes his laptop, nodding. “Thank you, Mr. Callaghan.” He shoos the butler away without another word. Looking to me, his sharp emerald gaze is assaulting. “Please, close the door behind you and take a seat.”

I comply, sealing him in this room with me, nothing more than the quiet click of the latch to be heard.

“So, it’s my understanding you’d like toinvestin a certain area of my…” he waves his hand, looking for the proper word, “company.”

“That’s right.”

“And what could I possibly gain by merging with you?”

The urge to pick up the amber paper weight and beat this snide motherfucker with it is hard to resist, but the mosquito trapped within it stops me. Of course the prick shares my love of dinosaur movies. Perhaps bonding with him won’t be so difficult after all. “Expansion,” I drawl. “And…more diverse merchandise.”

His eyebrow quirks up at that.

Got him.

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“Cleaner cuts. Willing workers. Faster shipments of better quality.”

“What makes you think my workers aren’t willing?”

I level him with a look. Does he think I’m an imbecile?