Page 32 of The Fox

“I want Medina dead.” I hear Duncan chuckle and a rustling of sheets comes over the line. “I am not kidding, Duncan. I want him out of the game.”

“I can’t kill someone I can’t find, Ames,” he says warily.

“What was that old man’s name? The one who advised the previous Don?”

Duncan is quiet, and I know he’s trying to catch up to what I have planned in my head. I’m usually two steps ahead of everyone, and Duncan is one step behind me.

“Jimmy?”

“Sure.” I shift in my chair, slipping my shoes off and tucking my feet under me. “Did Medina clean the house out, or are some of the old men still around?”

“As far as I know, he’s cleaned house. Jimmy might have convinced Medina to allow him the option of staying. He’s pretty persuasive, if I recall.” I play with a strand of hair, rubbing it along my fingers as I contemplate my next move. If Medina kept Jimmy, I might have a chance if I can convince him to meet with me.

“Can you get a meeting with him?” Duncan sighs, and I smirk, knowing he’s over my questions and antics late at night. I do what I want, and he just helps along the way.

“Can I do that in the morning?”

I glance at the clock on my computer and decide to have a little fun.

“Technically, it is morning.”

“You know what I mean, Ames. May I go back to bed and reach out to Jimmy when I have a full breakfast in me?”

“Duncan.”

“Ames. Nothing will change in,” he pauses, and I know he just checked the time on his phone, “three hours. Go home, go to bed. I’ll contact him in the morning.”

“Fine.” I huff, understanding what he’s saying but also trying to not be annoyed at his relaxed response. “I expect confirmation, you know.”

“I know, boss. I’ll get it set up.” Duncan ends the call and I loudly exhale.

Curling up in my chair, I grab a blanket from the basket I keep nearby for this reason. There isn’t a point in going back to my house only for my alarm to sound in a few hours. I have to come back here for trade calls anyway. This is why I demanded my office to be finished in a commanding but comforting vibe. When I took over after my father’s death, I had my family home renovated–-starting with this office. Anything that reminded me of my childhood was removed and in its place, I made sure everything was intentional but still soft.

This room is a reflection of how I feel when I need to remind people of the monster I have within me. I can’t be a mouse here; I have to be someone with a spine of steel, uncompromising in all regards. There is no Ames, only The Fox. Their worst nightmare moves her chess pieces within these walls. The walls are a dark green, almost black. All the furniture is harshly composed, unyielding in comfort. Two chairs sit before my desk and neither is cushioned. Nothing to the common eye screams ease.

When it is just me though? I pull the blankets out and light a candle to ease the hardness the Mafia demands. There is a drawer at my desk where I keep a stash of candy, mostly sour hard candies, and a pair of soft wool socks.

I take one last look at the clock and feel my eyes start to get heavy. Pulling the velvet fabric over me, I tuck myself in and try to sleep.

CHAPTER 21

Amelia---Mafiosa

Duncan had secured a meeting with Jimmy, and now three days later, I’m getting ready to meet the man. I run my fingers through the bath water, plotting my strategy. I find I do my best scheming while soaking, my hair up, with all my expensive bath salts and bubbles lapping against my skin.

Jimmy Costa is older than my father was and is far more of a staunch traditionalist when it comes to the ways the Mafia operates. Duncan also informed me that Medina’s younger brother will be attending as well. I’ve never met the man and I could care less if we have an audience. My business is with Jimmy. However, I have to be on my best behavior today. I cannot show an ounce of weakness.

I step out of the bath, leaving my bubbles and the warmth of the water behind. I wrap a large, white towel around my body and leave my hair as it is. I’ll tackle it in a moment. Making my way to my closet, I know I can’t wear just any old thing; I have to be the most powerful person in that room, and doing so calls for clothing that makes me feel invincible.

My hands run along the racks, the tactile feeling of various fabrics eliciting excitement. It isn’t very often I get to play, and while I usually prefer to stay in the shadows, today calls for a certain skill set. A particularly delicate touch.

I stop in front of what Parker calls my power suit. The pantsuit is the truest red I could secure, the lines seamless against my body. The top is a suit-vest, with three brass buttons running down the front, and the neckline highlights my breasts. It screams masculine while the pants are wide-legged, full of movement, and there are pockets for my knives. A girl can never have too many pockets.

I feel powerful when I wear this, no matter the situation.

I pull the outfit from my closet, grab a pair of heels to add height to my frame, slip a pair of underwear from my dresser, and return to the bathroom. I hang the pantsuit on the back of the door and start the process of transforming myself from Amelia into the Fox. Every inch of my body is lathered in lotion, my hands shaking when I graze parts I’d rather not see. I shake my hair out, gently toweling until it’s mostly dry before adding my leave-in conditioner and a styling creme. My hair typically has a mind of its own, and today calls for a tamer mane.

While it sets, I start my makeup. My eyes will remain simple, but I go for a bold lip. I want the focus to be on what I’m saying, and not my body; drawing attention to my mouth ensures this. I swipe a deep ruby matte color on them, blotting before applying a final coat. I love having a signature lipstick color that also is the same color as my blade when I swipe it against flesh.

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