Oᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 5. 2024
"Kat, I don't know if you were planning to come over this weekend, 'cause you haven't been answering my messages, but I'm not home. And, I won't be reachable tonight either. I need to talk to you though, so make that next weekend. Or, call me tomorrow if you see this message." Alessia leaves a voicemail for her friend after it rang without answer again.
She then makes her way out of the guest room she has been staying in, dressed to impress in an off-the-shoulder, fitting, black dress. The material is thin, with floral long sleeves and slits, running up to her elbows and her mid-thighs. On her feet are tall, black, pencil heels with gold straps lacing around her calves and she wears a gold bracelet on her right hand, while her pulse sensor is on her left. A gold choker is clasped around her neck, her lips are painted matte burgundy and her face is contoured perfectly with make-up of dull gold highlights and smoky, black eyeshadow speckled with gold.
Petro has his limo waiting before the building for her. When she exits the elevator onto the first floor where the cover business is managed, she turns a lot of heads, walking briskly towards the exit/entrance. She has a handbag hanging from the crevice of her left arm, big enough to hold a Glock and a suppressor and small enough to dodge suspicion. Her heels click-clack out of the skyscraper and into the limousine.
"Goodnight, Miss."
"Goodnight." She greets the driver who is back in the front after closing her door, and he pulls out of the driveway, being told her destination beforehand.
Rudolph Manchester tells his son to wait outside for his date, smiling mischievously at the bewilderment in his gray eyes. This must be a joke to get back at me. After all, he wasn't serious when he had asked his father for the date. He was just being defiant and sassy. However, Rudolph looks too happy for him to be kidding. Phillípe's nerves start to tingle, anticipating the appearance of whoever his father could've bothered now. He knows who he asked for, but knowing Rudolph's airheaded-ness sometimes, it might not be her who shows up.
The event hasn't begun yet, so there are many people dressed a like crowding at the front. Shifting his weight from his left foot to his right and back, his eyes skim over their faces with doubt and nervousness. Posh men and glamorous women pass by, giggly daintily with their partners and covering their sheepish smiles with expensive folding fans.
This, that everyone here is thrilled to experience, is the first anniversary banquet his father's business partner is hosting, in the luxury of a five star hotel, which calls for the rich, the wealthy and the successful.
Phillípe Manchester's eyes roam the traffic of vehicles pulling into the venue. He watches familiar and unfamiliar faces join the cluster of people until the entrance is fairly empty. The last car a valet boy takes away is a convertible Porsche and it leave dust behind and the echo of faraway chattery.
He is alone, waiting hopelessly, slipping his hands from the front pockets of his dress pants to pat his legs. Then, he sighs...
A black limo stops silently before his dazed eyes. Phillípe's heart suddenly regains life, pounding in his ear once he recognizes the styled license plate that has 'MOSKAL' in bold.
"No fucking way..." He breathes, his doubt gradually dissipating with every second that goes.
The driver, with a white gloved hand at his back, moves around the long car and opens the door closest to the trunk. A slender foot in a black and gold strapped heel steps out onto the asphalt. Alessia ducks, guiding her other foot out and giving Phillípe a glimpse of her wavy white hair. He immediately rushes to her side, flabbergasted.
She meets his eyes that aren't focused at all and thinks, with a blank face, 'Crap, it's him.'
At least she now knows where Rudolph's familiarity derives from.