❝ There you go again...❞ he murmured against my neck, his breath igniting every nerve in my body. ❝Playing the innocent mouse, when really, you're a cunning little fox begging for release. ❞
Sophie Cruz, a compassionate and skilled physical the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Theme Song of the Chapter: Drive By - Eric Bellinger)
Aiden◆Accardi
THE THING ABOUT business was ensuring your partners were also your consumers. Whether they consumed a stake in my operations or the drugs I moved, the key was simple: they needed to believe in the product.
One whiff—one taste—and they always believed.
The Elmage was my fortress, the heart of my dealings. In the private room of its most exclusive wing, I sat at the head of a table.
Across from me were two of my most VIP consumers, a politician who owed me many favors and his jittery comrade who happened to be a low ranked staff member for some foreign royal family I did not care to member.
"Say Accardi, you got any of that..." the politician muttered, motioning two fingers toward his nose like a child asking for candy.
I didn't respond. My eyes cut to Antonio who sat to my left, and with a subtle nod, he knew.
From his pocket, Antonio retrieved a small packet of white powder, sliding it across the table. The politician snatched it with trembling hands.
"So, this is the new formula?" He tilted the packet in the dim light before ripping it open, his face alight with anticipation. "I heard it tastes like gold."
I raised a bored brow. "You already know I don't provide anything else."
He lined it out on the silver tray in front of him, carving precise lines with a credit card, and took a sharp inhale. His eyes rolled back as his body shivered. When they reopened, they glimmered, glassy and intoxicated.
His reaction was no surprise. My stuff was premium grade, yet I was not poisoning my body with that shit. I got rich off of fools who wanted to.
He leaned forward, desperate. "I'll take a kilo. Name your price."
I didn't hesitate. "Eighty-nine grand."
"Deal." His grin widened, his glazed-over eyes brimming with greed.
Deal.
A word I heard quite often. Deals were my third language after English and Italian. My world revolves around my ability to make deals. This was easy to me.
But even easier...was justice.
I leaned back in my chair and pulled my gun from my jacket. Before the politician's colleague could react, I fired.
The bullet punched through his skull, and his body slumped forward onto the table.
The politician froze, his high draining faster than the color from his face. His bloodshot eyes flicked to the corpse beside him, then to me.
