Ch. 1: It's Midnight
The hidden gambling floor of the hotel was an easy access if anyone truly knew what they were doing. Two security guards outside of the door while bodyguards of other people lurked in the shadows of the huge space. The best part of it all was that the cameras were fake, wires attached to nothing. It was a precaution, making sure everybody acted like the nice men they were supposed to be.
The women wore plunging necklines, backless dresses, and tight ones too. They showed off their assets in any way possible with jewelry hanging off their bodies while they sat on the men’s laps, laughing airily at the humorless jokes that came out of their mouths. To the outside world, they would be considered whores but, in all honesty, they were smart. They knew how to get money by using their bodies, it was an easy access to it.
Running my hands down to take care of the wrinkling parts of my black dress, I sat down one of the stools of the bar, taking a champagne that a waiter handed out to me when they passed by. I sipped as I listened to the endless chatters by my left and right. It was all about motel rooms, dates, money and sex.
I turned my head halfway to face the man that sat beside me. He had the lightest blonde hair I have ever seen with blue eyes that matched them. He definitely wasn’t bad-looking—handsome in some standards, even. There was a scar on his left brow and a tattoo on his neck that read ’неподвижность.’ It was a professional killer’s tattoo that read immobility or stillness.
He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.
“Russian,” I gave a small smile.
He returned it with a smirk. “You speak the language?”
Shaking my head, I took another sip of my champagne. Not going to lie, I definitely was enjoying the alcohol but I would never give him that impression. “No. Been called beautiful too many times in different languages that you manage to decipher what kind it is. I’m afraid I’m as boring as I can get.”
There was a gleam in his eyes as he stared at me for a second longer before looking over to the bartender and waving him over. He ordered a scotch whisky and I just turned away and stared at myself in the mirror behind the cute bartender.
My brown wig was still perfect, curled and pushed to one side; my contacts were blue, hiding the natural silver color of my eyes; my nose was pointier than normal; and I just couldn’t help but give myself a bum chin. Makeup and prosthetics were the one thing I had always been excited to do when it came to this line of work. It’s the only thing I look forward to.
“Boring, hmm?” He brought the glass to his lips. I could smell the scotch and immediately, I already wanted to order some for myself. Not on the job. Probably when I get back to my room. “I don’t think you’re boring with your English accent.”
“Ah, well,” I gave him a bright smile. He shifted closer. Bingo. “I think everybody hypes up too much of it anyway. Your accent sounds more appealing than my Londoner one.”
He gives this short, light chuckle. If I wasn’t here to kill this man, I’d fawn over him and possibly initiate sexual intercourse but the orders were clear. Such a shame. Definitely a handsome face, this one. “I do hope that there are more appealing things about me rather than my accent.”
“Oh, definitely.” I made sure to answer eagerly and then shift in my seat embarrassingly to make him think that he had his hook sunk in me perfectly. He seemed to think so with his smile going wider, reaching his eyes. “I think your tattoo is appealing to me.”
His hand reached up to touch his neck, winking at me in the process.
“You like tattooed men then?”
“Just the ones that have a handsome face and great physique.”
“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you?”
Letting out a giggle, I took a sip of the last contents of my champagne. “I think that’s my line as the British one, yes?”
He shrugged, smirking. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Ah, just like you couldn’t help yourself when you came up to me?” We started to laugh, my eyes never leaving his for a moment. When it died down, I nodded towards the men and women by the poker game. “You’re not playing?”
He isn’t dumb, I’ll give him that. He knows I’m not here in the same reason like any other women. I should hope so. These Louis Vuitton red bottom heels are far more expensive than this simple black dress I was wearing and it sure has more class than the other women in this hotel.
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I don’t know how.”
“Then why are you here then?” Cocking his head to the side, his smile faltered and his eyes narrowed with suspicions. “Are you someone’s wife or daughter in here?”
“I am a daughter of someone, yes. Daughter of someone that’s in here? No. A wife to somebody? I don’t think so. I like my freedom and being committed and caged isn’t something that I want. As for why I am here? Call it curiosity.”
“красавица, has nobody told you that being curious and being in here is dangerous?”
“No,” curling my finger to one of the waiters, I grabbed one champagne more. I could feel him observing my movements so I did it slowly, thanking the waiter after I nabbed one. “Frankly, nobody has to. Look around—too many bodyguards, too many guards, fake cameras, and too many men.”
He rose a brow. “And you decided that being alone knowing this information is smart?”
“Who are you?” His hand was on my arm, squeezing tightly in a second.
Tsk, tsk. I hate being man-handled.
“Ah, that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I could torture you, whore.”
And there goes the name calling.
“Honestly, Mr. Anatoli Shevsky, does the Russian mafia pay you to run off your mouth and disrespect women like this? Can’t say I’m impressed.”
Crossing my legs, I stuck my right leg out and just on time, the lights shut off. His hold didn’t leave mine and I took it as a signal to grab the gun strapped onto me, shooting him straight under his chin. Poor bastard didn’t even see it coming.
Once his hold loosened, I slipped out to the secret fire exit and left the hospital. Once I reached outside, I heard the screams of the women and men.
I guess they found his body, then.
The busy street outside was enough to drown out the voices of people shouting for help or for someone to find the woman beside him aka me but they were never going to find me no matter how much trying they do.
Pulling out my work phone, I pressed on the first number on my contact list. After the second ring, they finally pick up. “It’s Midnight. He’s dead.”
“Good. Payment will be sent in five minutes.”
Soon as I hung up, my personal phone started to ring. I almost rolled my eyes to the back of my head when I saw the caller ID. “Caio, I’m busy—”
“I’m just here to remind you that you need to get home tomorrow.”
“Yes, fratello, I will be home,” I sighed. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t trust me to show up, you asshole.”
“I don’t, sorellina,” he quipped. I could hear the smile in his voice. “And that’s not just me thinking it. Mom called you earlier and when you didn’t answer, she told me to call you. I’m guessing since you’re answering now, you’re not busy and you just killed some bastard or karma finally bit your ass and you’re lying down on the ground bleeding somewhere.”
And here is my hilarious brother, everybody. Sometimes I wondered how dad thought leaving Caio to run the company front was a wise decision.
“I’m going now, you ass.”
“Yeah, go ahead, you bitch. Try not to forget that you have to go home this time.”
“I hate you.”
“I wish you were never born.”
“Yeah, at least I’m getting more laid than—”
I hung up.