Aurelia Beck. Only child of a famed politician, the last thing she wants to do is please a father who prefers donors to his own daughter.
Callan Kingsman. Recently in charge of the American Mafia, showing no mercy in conquests both in business and...
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"-and that's how I won the reelection for the Mayor of New York City! Penguins!" Everyone half chuckles at the story that was ten minutes too long.
"That's incredible!" I say to Rob while everyone else disperses. "I'm glad we've had time to catch up since last year."
"Me too Aurelia. Please, tell your father I said hi." He gives me a half hug in passing and I down the rest of my mimosa.
My third mimosa.
"Miss Beck, maybe you should take a moment? We wouldn't want you to be unavailable for the rest of the interview." I roll my eyes at Steven's attempts to control my drinking.
"No, but thanks for the offer. If you want to watch someone's drinking habits I would check in with your 14 year old intern." I point to Baron chatting up some governor's daughter and sipping on what I'm sure isn't his first Bloody Mary.
"Fuck. Little Steven." Steven says to himself while walking over to his 'intern'.
I chuckle. They are scary similar.
This was fun for the first hour but now everyone's walking around and socializing. If one more person asks me to pass along a message to Dictator Dickwad I will personally castrate everyone at this brunch.
"You alright?" I hear Archer ask. As if on cue, Raphael busies himself with something on the other side of the hall.
I wonder if Baron's comment freaked them out.
"I'm fine. Thank you, Archer." He just nods, but he doesn't move.
"Do you need something?" I ask a little bitterly.
"No. You aren't supposed to be left unattended." He responds with no emotions.
Just when Callan and I were kind of a little bit sort of on good-ish terms he made sure to remind me of my probation.
"What could I possibly be in danger of? Old white guys who brush their hands on my ass?" Archer's expression dims, though he isn't looking at me.
Is he even listening?
Oh.
Raphael is talking to one of my dad's old bodyguards. They are both laughing and Raphael looks a bit more at ease in this familiar environment.
"I'm going to go find some water." I say as Archer's gaze snaps back to mine and moves to go with me, but I put a hand to his chest.
"I'll be fine. Callan is over by the water so I won't be alone."
"Alright." He nods and goes back to longingly gazing at Raphael.
"Stronza." (bitch) I say as a caterer bumps into my and she dramatically steadies her tray of..granola and yogurt? Eew.
I roll my eyes again as she looks at me with what I assume is her resting bitch face and continues on rubbing herself against politicians.
"Why so angry, Miss Beck?" Callan asks as he hands me a water.
"Le sue tette siamo in mostra." (her tits are on display)
"Geloso?" (jealous)
I glare at him and rest my palms flat on the table.
"I forgot how much I hate these stupid events." I say honestly. "Everyone just uses me to get to my dad."
"If it makes you feel any better piu' di meta' di loro ha appena comprato la cocaina." (more than half of them just bought cocaine.)
My eyes widen. Honestly it makes sense though.
"I wish I knew you spoke Italian. It makes life easier."
He smiles to himself.
"What's the fun in that?" He asks mischievously.
I smile too. I feel better. Screw my dad.
"Not only do you speak it but you actually speak it well. Clyde could barely say ciao without stumbling."
He stands a little straighter. "Yes well let's hope he's learned since you last spoke. I need to go find Baron before this turns into the Persian Whale Foundation all over again."
Just like that's he's gone.
I start to go for another finger sandwich when I feel a wave of exhaustion hits me.
I feel so disoriented all of the sudden. Why are the sandwiches moving? I start to freak out until I remember this is how I felt when Clyde..
I need someone. Now.
I go to use the radio but I remember I can't. I take a seat on the floor and roll under the table cloth until I'm out of sight.
Better this than passing out in the middle of a bunch of important people, or clueing them in that the mafia is crashing their event.
I didn't even drink that much. What happened?
I click my radio as I whisper.
"Drugged. Finger sandwiches. Help.."
My eyes close as I drift off clutching the tiny sandwich.
