Venom

007

The meeting was in a tiny room of the hotel with only a table and four chairs. Helen sat at Dean's right, Pierre Larue in front of her with De Luca on his side. Dean had taken off his bowtie, tucking it in the pocket of his jacket, and the two men had loosened their ties.

Apparently, Pierre was there to be part of the deal as well. He wanted to buy half the property management of De Luca on his half of the pub. This had been all they'd said so far.

Dean was checking some papers, nodding at the things Helen was translating. "Hmm," he hummed, opening a folder and sliding his middle and ring finger along the fold to keep it flat on the table. Helen swallowed, crossing her legs as a pool of warmth flooded down her core.

Dean gazed at the movement and kept his face as straight as possible, although he knew the move he'd made had had the wanted effect. "Alright, Mr. De Luca and Mr. Larue, here's the thing," the CEO started saying, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "The pub isn't for sale anymore."

De Luca widened his eyes, not needing a translation. "Che cazzo significa?(What the fuck does that mean?)" he barked, tightening his grip on the arms of his chair.

Helen translated, "What the fuck does that mean?"

Dean winced, looking at her with lifted brows. "Pardon me?"

She kept her eyes on him. "Oh, I'm just translating."

"Oh. Jeez for a second I thought you were putting on an attitude." Dean scoffed, fixing his jacket. "Anyway," he went on, without waiting for Helen's response. "I sold the pub to another aquire."

Helen gave her translation, and De Luca shot up from his seat. "This is ridiculous!" he snarled with his thick accent. "Andiamo, Pierre. (Let's go, Pierre.)"

Dean exhaled in annoyance. "Sit back down, Mr. De Luca. I'm not done yet."

De Luca ignored him and started fetching his things. Dean clenched his jaw and stood up, picking out a black gun ready to shoot.

Silence was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. De Luca's body guard reached for his weapon, but Dean said, "There's a sniper in the building across the street ready to shoot if you even threaten my safety. And that of my interpreter, of course." He hadn't specified as much to his sniper, but he hoped he wasn't going to be tested.

Helen could take care of herself if they threatened her.
Wrong.
The Viper could take care of herself. Helen Grace Donovan, the interpreter, had no idea how guns even worked. She would have to keep playing unless things got really, really bad.

She put on her best scared face, looking at Dean. "Mr. Warren, what are you doing?" she breathlessly asked. This was pathetic. She felt so stupid.

"Sit. Down."

De Luca accomplished, his body shaking. Helen thought he was going to pass out.

"Good. Now, listen. I have another offer to make." Helen transated with a shaky voice. Even more pathetic. She was lucky she didn't have to translate in French, as Pierre spoke Italian too. "A strip club in Queens. I was going to offer you eighty percent of the profit, but given your...behavior, I will offer you fifty." Translating, she noticed the thousand emotions in De Luca's eyes. Happiness, regret, rage...

"How much?"

Dean told him his price. "I'm being more than generous." De Luca groaned. "Be smart, De Luca."

With a sigh, he accepted. "Fine. Dove devo firmare? (Where do I sign?)"

Dean gave him the contract and in a matter of minutes, the deal was done.