Page 3 of The Clash of the Damned
There, I thought of something nice.
Going over to the bed, I check the sheet label, making sure it’s a high-thread-count Egyptian cotton; I won’t accept anything less. “Dom!”Sloane gasps from the bathroom, and I rush to see what is wrong. Stepping into the cream marble bathroom with backlit mirrors, almost immediately, I understand her excitement as I see her staring at the rainshower, which is big enough to comfortably fit two people.
“Why don’t you start getting ready? I need to wrap up a few things first.” I kiss her head and leave the bathroom before I lose my resolve. Tonight is important, and I have to remain focused. Unpacking the essentials, I lay out everything I need for this evening. When in the drug business like I am, I make a point of knowing who my competition is. While I run most of the North American drug trade, there are a few areas that have been tougher to crack. Instead of entering into a pointless turf war, where I could potentially lose people and turf, I looked outside our borders for a solution.
The drug trade in Europe, specifically France, has never been more lucrative. It’s why I selected this as our family vacation destination, and if any of the other empires question our presence here so soon after the sitdown, I can say it was for business. After all, it’s exactly what they would do if they were in my position. Hecate must have been guiding me because everything fell into place for tonight’s meeting in the nick of time. They weren’t against a partnership like I originally thought they would be.
My father may have died before his time, Hecate rest his soul. I’ve mourned him, and I will always miss him. Now, I need to rebuild our empire and elevate the Sorcerers to their rightful position of power. Tonight’s partnership could help achieve that. “Remind me how you know Giselle again?” Sloane calls from the bathroom.
“Let’s just say in our line of work, every business checks out the competition.”
She enters the bedroom naked, glistening from the shower with her wet hair, almost like she is trying to tempt me. With her hand on her hip, she stares at me defiantly. “A little help here?” She motions towards her head. Right. Yellow magic weaves from my hand and feeds around her head, transforming her hair into the perfect curls she showed me a picture of.
“Remind me how you’re so confident that your magic will be fine tonight?” Sloane asks as we both move to change into our evening wear.
I would have hoped the demonstration was enough, but since she still seems uneasy, I say, “Don’t worry, trust me.” I smile at her coyly.
After spending so much time in my swimming trunks, or wearing as little as possible, it’s a pain to put so many layers on, especially in this balmy heat. Putting the final touches onto the bow tie of my tux and adding a slick of gel to my dark blonde hair, I fight a bit of lingering sadness. While I believe in what I’m trying to do, it was nice to pretend I was just like any other twenty something on the catamaran, forgetting about my responsibilities and wishing I didn’t have to grow up so quickly.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like attending something like the Cannes Film Festival. That wasn’t exactly something I thought my people could attend growing up.” Sloane interrupts my recollections.
Approaching her at the dresser, I lean over and kiss her neck. “Now you don’t have to wonder anymore. You’re at my side where you belong.” She looks delicious this evening with her black Diamante dress that dips down to her navel, her red hair piled high. Her black strappy heels elongate her legs, and my eyes travel up them. Business first. Fun later.Maybe.
“Where are the twins?” she asks, oblivious to my thoughts.
“Clubbing, I believe. They think I don’t know what they’re up to, but they forget I know it’s legal for them in Europe, and I was their age notthat long ago. I’m less than thrilled, but the security I hired for the evening should keep them out of trouble.” Leaning over again, I fasten a tennis bracelet to Sloane’s arm, which compliments her outfit beautifully. Her reaction is the exact opposite of what I expected as she tenses.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I see her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“Do you know my outfit this evening could pay my family’s rent for months? Or put food on our table?” She lifts up her arm with her newly acquired jewellery. “Do I even want to know how much this is worth?” Realization dawns on me. I’ve never gone a day without, and she has. A gift like this from me is a normal way to show my appreciation, but to her, it’s the complete opposite. A slap in the face of how much we have when she has so little.
Trying to find a safer subject to approach without dismissing her feelings, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “Surely your dad is proud of you? He has to be happy with everything you’re doing for your family?”
She gives me a sad smile. “Come now, babe, we both have daddy issues. Mine are because of how he treats me, and yours are because he left before his time.” She eyes the clock on the wall. “But enough about this sad stuff. If we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be late.” I offer my hand to her, and she grabs my bicep as we leave the room. She looks expensive and is the perfect partner for me this evening.
When we reach the lobby, I hear Sloane’s intake of breath, reminding me how easily impressed she is with the opulence. White marble floors veined with gold stretch beneath towering glass chandeliers. Soft jazz floats from a grand piano near the bar, and sunlight–even at this late hour–streams through the rotating entrance doors. Families returning from the beach for a late dinner, influencers leaving to come with to the Cannes Film Festival,and even regular people hoping to spot their favorite celebrities can be found everywhere I look around the lobby. The hotel is fully booked with the rich and famous.
We make our way to the car–yes, even for the three minute walk from our hotel to the festival, it’s necessary for a guest of our stature to arrive the appropriate way. “When are we going to get my cover story straight for your friends? I imagine they will have questions, and I want to make sure we’re saying the same thing,” Sloane asks.
I keep nuzzling her neck, liking the effect I have on her and knowing it helps us sell being in love. “We can talk about that on the plane home. Let’s have fun tonight. Hecate knows we both need it.” Just like that, the magic is over.
“You know how I feel about that name, Dom, and what she took from us.”
I place my hands up in what I hope is a placating gesture. “Forget I mentioned her.” I hold out my arm again, and after a pause, she takes it as I help her into the black Rolls Royce. “Tonight, we’re meeting Giselle. She’s a reputable business woman that specializes in film production. In reality, it’s a front for her true business–the drug trade, like mine. Even though she’s human, getting in with her opens up other European regions for us, so I need you to be extra charming.” She gives me one of her dashing smiles, and I am confident that tonight she is my lucky charm.
The drive to the venue is short, and the PR attendant who will verify our identity for security opens our car door. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart, so glad you are here. Please, join us on the red carpet.”
I get out of the car first to help Sloane so that she can have her moment. She looks at me with her eyebrow raised. “Mr. and Mrs. Hart?”
“It’s our cover story.” I wink at her as I hold out my hand. Sloane exits the car like a pro and greets the paparazzi like she was born into this life. An outsider would never know she wasn’t. When we finally reach the end of the carpet, a woman I’ve never met in real life, but I know well, greets me. Giselle is every bit the elegant blonde vixen I expected in her fire-engine-red dress and matching lipstick. Leaning over to give me air kisses, she formally introduces herself in heavily accented English before introducing her mousy-brown haired husband, Marcelle, and I introduce Sloane.
“Remind me, darling, why did you want to talk about such delicate subjects out in the open?” Giselle hooks onto my arm as we walk into the venue, and Sloane does the same with Marcelle. None of us have any interest in actually viewing up-and-coming films tonight.
Waving my hands around us, I remind her, “You know how my magic works, Giselle. No one will overhear us if we don’t want them to. Also, Sloane, my fiancé and I need the advantage of being seen at an event of this size.”
“And they say men can’t multitask.”
Giving her a polite smile, I remind her, “Under other circumstances, I would be happy to show you just how well I can multitask.” Flirting with her under her husband’s nose is dangerous, but I also know it could be seen as an insult if I don’t respond accordingly to her flirtation. Marcelle gives me a once over, showing he is deciding how he wants to treat me, before he motions to another server for more drinks. Once we’re all settled with our Dom Perignon and I’ve assured them we can talk openly, Giselle lays out her terms.
