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The paintings on the wall mock me almost as much as they intimidate my visitors. My hated father and two brothers glare down from the walls, reminding me of how much I hate them. On a silver frame on the window ledge is a family portrait, taken when life wasn’t so empty. When I had a mother and a sister who were the only light in our lives.
Once again, the guilt tears at my heart when I think of Eliza and her fate, just because of who she was. She ran from a father who only saw her for the opportunity she gave him to sharpen his empire and expand into territory he didn’t control. Blown to pieces by a vendetta we still have no knowledge of and as I sit surrounded by the ghosts from my past, it sets my mood accordingly and I glower at Desdemona Gray, offering her no warm welcome.
“I need your help.”
She’s straight to the point and I regard her through obsidian eyes, waiting for the reason.
“My assistant. Flora Corlietti.”
“What about her?” I snap because at the mention of Flora’s name, my hackles rose immediately.
“I need her back.”
“Nothing to do with me.”
I lean back and regard her with a blank expression, and her voice falters as she whispers, “Please. I know she’s here. Let her leave with me and do us all a favor.”
I’m curious and lean forward. “What are the reasons behind your request?”
She shifts in her seat and says with a slight tremble to her voice. “I received a phone call two hours ago. It was a woman who sounded scared.”
I feel my chest constricting as I prepare myself for what I suspect is coming and Desdemona’s voice quivers as she whispers, “She told me that Flora was caught up in the murder of Senator Billings.”
Her voice cracks as she says in a rush. “I would never have let her accompany him if I knew what that man was into.”
This is news and my ears prick up. “And what exactly was he into?”
Desdemona shivers. “The caller told me that Senator Billings was involved in satanic rituals. He took innocent young women and performed disgusting acts on them, along with his club members.”
I say nothing and let her speak. “The caller told me she had escaped from him and knew what his intentions were regarding Flora. That he was involved in serious fucked up shit and was found dead minus his heart on his way home from your gala.”
She twists her fingers in her lap and whispers, almost as if she is afraid his ghost is in the room. “Flora was his intended next victim. Apparently, he takes vulnerable women to events like yours and then slips something into their drink to make them willing. He leaves and heads to a house outside of town that the men use for their disgusting club. Inside, they are waiting dressed in satanic robes and the victim is brutally assaulted and then sacrificed on an altar of stone.”
I’m not sure if she’s feeding me shit, but something is telling me it could be true. The senator is well known in my dark world and has been called on several times to return a favor for silence on his dubious extra-marital activities and I wonder if it goes deeper than I first thought.
Desdemona’s voice shakes as she whispers, “I was told to come here and not leave without Flora. If anything happened to her, the caller would implicate me in the senator’s death, telling the authorities I was complicit in supplying him with fresh victims.”
“Is she right? Did you supply the senator with unwilling women?”
My voice is gruff, and she says quickly, “We had an understanding. Art for willing company. Nothing more than that, and I have no reason to think he harmed any of the girls I arranged for him.”
“Tell me about your arrangement.”
I lean back and set my expression to bastard, and she shifts awkwardly in her seat.
“You know how it works, Dom. We all scratch each other’s back and exist within blurred guidelines. My girls know the score. An evening sucking up to the senator in return for a cut of the commission. If I have no assistant to do the job, I recruit a whore. It’s purely business and everyone knows where they stand. Nobody is hurt and we all get what we want. Hell, you’ve even taken advantage of that yourself, if I remember. A sexual act for a painting, a sculpture, or information.”
She leans forward and for the first time since entering this room, a little of the fire inside her flares up and she hisses, “You are no different to the rest of us, but satanic shit is something else. Whatever you’re into, I need my assistant back and if you want a replacement, it can be arranged. Hell, I’ll even offer my own services in return for setting her free because unless I pack her onto the next flight out of here, my whole business, hell, my life, is under threat.”
I can tell Desdemona is scared and whoever called her has done a good job of scaring the shit out of her, and I already know the answer to my next question before the words spill from my lips.
“Who called you?”
A simple enough question that makes my guest blanch as she whispers, “Your stepmother. Diana Ortega.”
CHAPTER25
FLORA
