Chapter 9: Savages

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Ravenna:

"Hello?" A masculine voice answered on the other side of the line.

"Yeah, hey. Could you come over? I want to talk to you. In person." Ravenna's fingers played with her pillow, picking off pieces of white lint.

"Sure. Why?"

"Just come, dude. You'll see."

He hung up, as she dropped the phone onto the bed and continued picking off the lint. Where the fuck did it all come from? Then, she sniggered, suddenly remembering the white robe of hers that kept shedding last night. The damn thing was new for fuck's sake and hardly cheap. She really needed to get another one. Tomorrow maybe, if time permitted.

For the past several days, an idea had been clawing at her, spinning her mind gears, making her nights restless, as she tossed and turned, waiting, watching. When she finally made up her mind, it was final. All she had to do now was propose the plan. She was Head of the Inquisitors for fuck's sake. She had every right to propose plans; it was just the use of her puppets that allowed her to carry them out. The first puppet that popped into her head was an easy answer and was heading towards her house right now.

Footsteps came towards the direction of her bedroom door, before a loud knock became audible. "Ravenna? Someone's here to see you. Out in the front gate. That lovely Colton boy," her mother spoke through the closed door.

"Yeah, you can let him through," she answered back.

A few minutes later, the door carefully swung open, and a familiar face appeared by the doorway.

"Maurice," she said in acknowledgment, her tone having a different edge to it, a subtle expression that she cursed herself for showing. Especially to his face.

"Hey," he responded, allowing his eyes to wander her large, neatly organized bedroom, before shutting the door and locking it, "Looks just as how I remembered it. Neat and organized. Makes sense for someone like you."

"Did you see my father? Did he see you come in?" Ravenna leaned against her bed, ushering him closer.

"Yeah. You look like him. Except for the eyes. They're hazel, like your mother's. She doesn't look like you. Still hot though. The genetics are hella strong in this family."

Ravenna grimaced, acknowledging her family was good-looking, but hardly appreciating someone her age calling her mother "hot". Why couldn't he call her hot instead? The thought of that turned her on more than it should've.

"You could sit," she said, hoping he'd join her on the bed, but instead, he smiled and made himself comfortable on the couch closer to the door.

Her eyes narrowed, examining him and his body language, a natural instinct that kicked in whenever she came in contact with someone, stranger or not.

Maurice had fine dark hair, combed neatly to the back of his head, the dark colors of his clothing complimenting his very light skin tone. Ravenna found it difficult not to stare. He had the type of refined beauty that was aesthetically pleasing to the eye, sharp, but elegant features that reminded her of both an unwavering politician and a young businessman, fitting for the son of a prestigious US Senator. But his eyes told another story: a stunning shade of grey that could've easily passed as an ashy blue at first glance. And then, there was that charmingly twisted smile of his that sent a million strands of hair standing upwards.

"You still have that black Louis Vuitton handbag I got you for Christmas?" The corners of his lips lifted slightly.

"Of course, I do. I ate all the chocolate though."

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