Chapter 4 : Proposition
Chapter 4: Proposition
Keava POV
Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Once again I stared at the bare bones of an article and was forced to erase what little I had.
The floor was empty. The lights were off. The only signs of life was the sound of the janitor waxing the hallway just outside my office.
One computer monitor displayed my unfinished article, and on the other displayed a multitude of open tabs as I was also looking for anything else that I could write on.
So far there was nothing I found to be worth my attention.
Between this lack of inspiration and my thoughts that constantly reverted back to that night with Roman, I found myself unfettered from reality.
Roman Cabot. One of the pages I had open on my pc was an article about him and his history. There was a photograph of Roman, Alastor Cabot (his uncle) and his younger brother, Andrew, whom I knew all too well already.
Andrew and I had dated a few years ago and the experience did not leave any good memories. Even after dating him for over a year I had never met Roman until the previous night.
Despite being brothers, Roman was the polar opposite of Andrew; His eyes were sharper, more focused, his hair a gorgeous jet black and his skin lightly tanned. Roman had the expression of a man with drive and purpose while his brother was more jovial and unconcerned with consequences.
I tore my eyes away from the photo when I realised that I had begun to stare. I had already gotten burned by one Cabot brother so I was not about to fixate on another…even though the memory of his lips had been imprinted in my mind.
“Miss Petrov.”
I jumped at the sound of Carl the janitor’s voice. He poked his head through the door.
“Sorry to startle you, ma’am but I’m going to head off for the evening,” he said. “Are you staying?”
“Oh, uhm no,” I said, flustered. “I should be heading out as well, I’m not getting anywhere with this tonight.”
The night was chilly so I decided to head to Abernathy’s for a warm tea or coffee. I immediately regretted that decision when I was spotted by Helen in one of the booths. She waved for me to join her and I sighed. I really did not want to discuss work right now.
“Hi Helen,” I said as I slid in across from her.
“Could you sound more disappointed to see me?” She muttered sarcastically.
“Sorry, my mind is just a bit melted tonight,” I winced.
I ordered a large cappuccino with extra cream and braced myself for another intervention.
“Then you should just take my advice and drop the Salazar story,” Helen began. “Even if you got some juicy details on him it would have to be damning evidence or he would just deny it. If he’s as high up on the corruption list as you think, then he could just wave it away like you never even wrote an exposé.”
“Helen, no offence–”
“Here comes the offence.”
“–but I just came here for some coffee after a rough couple of days,” I groaned. “So can we please not discuss anything work related?”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Helen backed off. “Then how about we discuss the new man that’s on your mind.”
I looked at her, puzzled.
“What man?”
“The man that’s made me think I’ve been working with a zombie the entire day, that man.”
My thoughts immediately went back to Roman once again and his perfect jawline and broad shoulders, the way he had steered me away from danger like that…
I definitely should not mention that to Helen.
“It’s no one,” I mumbled. “Just some guy.”
“Some guy?”
“It’s complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“Like ‘my ex’s brother’ type complicated.”
“Which ex?”
“What about your love life Helen,” I said quickly to end the conversation. “Did you ever call Victoria back after your date last week?”
Helen immediately retreated from her questioning.
“No,” she answered bluntly, sipped her coffee and gazed out of the window. “Victoria was nice but…I don’t know why I can’t follow up.”
I knew Helen had issues with dating. Yes, it was cruel of me to bring it up, but Helen knew I had my own issues with romance as well so I saw it as a fair cruelty. But I still felt a tinge of guilt.
“Maybe a friend group dinner would be a less stressful segway into a second date,” I suggested. “Maybe all you need is a little support and it might work out this time.”
“Perhaps,” Helen sighed. “I feel like if I just made an excuse now, then it would be just that…an excuse. What do you have in mind?”
After making dinner plans with Helen and her potential new girlfriend, I finished my coffee and said my goodbyes before making my way home. It would be about a forty minute walk to my apartment and I was already regretting my decision to not buy a car; It was November and I was freezing to the bone.
Flagging down a cab seemed like a futile endeavour as most were already full at this hour on a Saturday night.
The shouts of drunks and jubilant delights echoed the streets amidst the roar of traffic. But even with the noise I could sense that something was not quite right…I was being followed.
Shadowing people was part of my job so I could tell immediately when I was on the receiving end. I pulled out my phone, pretending to send a text while looking at the reflection of the screen.
A man dressed in a dark coat was walking not too far behind me. I could tell because even amidst the other pedestrians his movements were subject to mine. When I stopped he would stop. When I moved he would move.
My thoughts went straight to the bodyguard who had been watching me at the club last night. Had the congressman sent his henchmen to follow me, find out what I know and then dispose of me? It wouldn’t be the first time I was on the receiving end of threats and violence…but this was different; Edwin Salazar’s fingers went deep in the Big Apple so there was no guarantee I could rely on law enforcement to come to my aid.
I zig zagged and weaved through the other pedestrians, hoping to blend in and lose my tail. My heart had begun to beat rapidly, but I was sure I had managed to lose him.
I was proven wrong when a strong hand grabbed my shoulder. My stomach lurched and I readied myself for a fight, coming face to face with a heavily scarred man. He was pale and bald with eyes that screamed of the horrors he had seen and had buried.
“Apologies ma’am,” he said gruffly, but gentler than I had anticipated. “I didn’t mean to startle you but my boss requested that I get a message to you; he’d like to speak with you in private regarding your current project and any other potential ones that may crop up.”
“And who is your boss exactly?” I asked stiffly, still shaken and rather suspicious of the man who had been following me.
The man pointed to a sleek black limo. The window rolled down to reveal the face of Roman Cabot.
***
(A Private Estate somewhere in the Alps)
The man’s colleague had arrived at his private estate high in the Alps. He preferred to be up here rather than in the city where he had to deal with those below him.
Miriam, however, was the exception. She was the only one whom he ever allowed to step foot in his sanctuary…aside from the hired help of course.
“A pleasure to see you, Roald,” she crashed down upon the expensively upholstered sofa, grabbing a glass of vintage wine offered to her by a servant.
Roald could not help but notice and admire how amazing her skin looked in the light of the crackling fire. She looked ten years younger than her actual age, truly remarkable what paying thousands of dollars on skin care would do for you.
“A pleasure as well,” Roald said, his eyes fixed upon Miriam, a hunger could be seen ever so slightly in the firelight. “I’m assuming something has happened if you came all the way out here.”
“Can’t I just want to have a drink with an old friend?” She inhaled the scent of her wine before taking a treasured sip.
Roald raised a disbelieving eyebrow. They were not people who acted on whim; everything they did was always calculated. Miriam was here because something was wrong, or would be.
“Nothing has happened yet,” she said finally when he refused to humour her. “But something will if you don’t stop with this obsession of yours.”
“Obsession…” Roald rolled the word around his tongue like a treat to be savoured. “I hardly think that wanting to tie up loose ends can be deemed as an obsession.”
“It should be if that ‘loose end’ hasn’t been heard of in almost twenty years,” Miriam said. “The others are getting frustrated and afraid; they’re worried that you’re going to draw attention back to the Du Morte case.”
“If they’re worried,” he gazed into the fire. “Perhaps they need reminding of how they got where they are today. Just a gentle reminder,” he added when seeing the look on Miriam’s face.
“Do I also need a ‘Reminder’?” she raised her brow. “Because I also think your hunt for a corpse is a waste of resources.”
Roald said nothing.
He leaned forward and grabbed a yellow envelope of the ornate coffee table, handing it to Miriam.
“Those pictures were taken a few hours ago in New York…it’s her,” Roald said.
“We’ve been down this path before,” Miriam sighed. “This could just be another scam.”
“If it is a scam then it’s not me who should be concerned,” he said coldly. “Either way I get to bloody my hands again…it has been too long.”