Page 50 of Mafia Devil

The ceiling is carved within an inch of arrogance. Gold leaf in the molding. Scrollwork so fine it looks like it was grown instead of made. A chandelier hangs from the center like a frozen explosion of crystal.

Then there is the window...

It is truly operatic. A single vast pane that turns the city into a performance.

Towers. Bridges. A sky going from bruise to black.

From this vantage point the streets look arranged, as if they have been told to behave or face the consequences.

I sit in his chair because there is no other chair that does not feel like a mistake. Leather. High back. The smell of him in the arms.

My body still remembers the parking lot.

The bike. His cock. My hungry mouth.

It was hours ago now, but all the same the sensations are still inside me.

Still, I know I cannot dwell. I need to take action and make it fast too. Dmitri might be back any moment and I don’t know when next I’ll get an opportunity.

I take out my phone because if I do not do it now I will not do it at all…

ELIAS: Change of plan. Tomorrow. I can’t make tonight. Tied up. I’ll be there. You can trust me. I’m not screwing you around. But today just wasn’t possible.

The reply is almost instant…

ZANE: Tied up. Cute. I needed that intel today. Do not play me, Elias. Do not cross me. You know how this works. You know that people don’t fuck me over and get away with it. Tomorrow. Last chance.

My stomach drops. I type fast...

ELIAS: Tomorrow. You can count on me. I have it. Face to face like I said.

I send and lock the screen. I shove the phone into my bag like it might start talking.

The door opens and I fully expect to see Dmitri striding back in, an espresso in each hand no doubt. But it’s not Dmitri…

Hardy.

I flinch and then force my face still.

He does not look at my bag. Instead, he looks at me the way he looks at another employee that has been given a task.

“Mr. Pakev has been called away on urgent business,” Hardy says. “He left instructions.”

He crosses the room.

A folded note.

A zipped leather bag.

He sets both on the desk.

“I will leave you to it, Boy.”

Hardy is gone before I can ask what urgent means. I open the note.

The handwriting is sharp. No wasted ink.

What the…