Page 99 of Cruel Delights
Kill For Your Love - Labrinth
Aquarter past seven in the evening, there’s a knock on my door. I’m at my minibar prepping the drinks. I’m unsurprised by the knock, though I allow a moment to pass before I make my way over to answer.
With a kitchen towel in hand, I come up to the door and draw it open. “I figured that would be you. Thanks for coming by.”
Fyodor Kreed inclines his head in a stiff nod and then steps past the threshold in his argyle sweater and slacks. Rarely one to wear emotion on his sleeve, his countenance rivals mine. He’s composed and detached no matter the situation.
“We could have met anywhere,” he answers. He wanders the broad, open space of my penthouse with arms folded behind his back.
“That’s true. However, I’m not fond of paying upwards of a hundred dollars for drinks at places like the Mint Room. I can make better cocktails at home.”
“Vodka is good.”
“Amusing coincidence. I was in the middle of making a martini when you knocked. Would you like one?”
Fyodor gives an indifferent sweep of his head. I motion for him to have a seat on my sectional.
“Why did you want to meet?” he asks, settling down as suggested. His arm curls along the back of the sofa and he peers out of one of my many glass walls. The city below has begun to twinkle with nocturnal light. “If this is about that audition, that girl you sent me was no good.”
“Is that so?”
“She has stubby fingers. No proper posture. She does not understand how to be poised. I cannot work with such an amateur, regardless of your recommendation.”
“I understand.” I stroll out from behind the minibar counter and deliver him his martini.
Fyodor accepts, casting a scrutinizing look from under his heavy brow. He dons his suspicion like an invisible cloak. Though it eludes human touch, it lurks as an aura which surrounds him.
He brings the martini glass to his lips but doesn’t sip.
I pretend not to notice as I take my seat across from him. “I apologize for sending her. You’re right that she’s an amateur. I made her a promise and I had to deliver.”
“That girl… she was the girl from the recent Midnight Society party. The girl on the stage, yes?”
A stiff splint forms in the side of my neck. I keep my expression vague. “She was at the party, yes.”
“I believed so. I recognized her. You have hired her?”
“Not exactly.”
“She rebuffed me. I was very polite about it. It was very foolish of her. I can make her a big name in my business.”
“You said she was no good.”
He shrugs. “Good is… how is it said? Good isrelative.”
I pluck my martini glass off the end table and swallow half of it. It’s the best course of action at the moment. Cracks in my facade have begun to form—a violent pulse throbs in my veins and the monster usually buried so deep, claws at my insides.
Demanding to be set free. Demanding to beunleashed.
Fyodor is clueless as he sits and stares out my penthouse window. He doesn’t notice how the man a few feet away has gradually begun to transform. His earlier suspicion has been assuaged while my true colors bleed through.
My mask has slipped away. I’m no longer a man. The creature I become is something else entirely.
I rise up from my seat and carry my empty martini glass to the minibar.
“So why is it you asked me to meet you?” Fyodor ponders aloud. He’s still yet to finish his martini. His sips are small and reserved. “Is this about your father’s interest in the opera house? I have heard things. That he is interested in investing.”
“Perhaps.”