𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 • 𝙟𝙤𝙝𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮

• 6 •

I had never been inside a ballet theatre before, and I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this was the most extravagant building I had ever been in. Curtains of red silk were used in lieu of doors, crystal chandeliers hung low from high ceilings, and the black walls made it feel exclusive and private- though there were hundreds, if not thousands of people dressed to the nines all gliding past.

"Fuck me," Alfie muttered from beside me as we took in the view. "I'm glad I wore my best suit."

Don led us up some wide carpeted stairs before stopping outside a room. "He'll be in there. I think our best chance is sending Alexandra in alone. We don't want to overwhelm him or make him think that you brought a bodyguard."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

"And that's not to say that you need a bodyguard, I'm just saying it will look like that to Sullivan. I know exactly what you're capable of," Don said before rolling his eyes and muttering to Alfie, "She's a touchy one, ain't she?"

"I was going to say," I grumbled through gritted teeth. "Won't he have bodyguards?"

"Most likely," Don answered. "But they'll be harmless. As long as you veer away from making crass jokes about his son or insulting him in any way, you should be fine."

"Should be?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Don narrowed his eyes before lowering his voice and stepping towards me. "Are you not the girl who butchered her own father to pieces? I wasn't expecting you to be so... careful."

"She's a mother now," Alfie spoke up with a smirk. "She takes ten minutes to cross the road."

I shot him a glare before rolling my eyes, noticing the small smile on Tommy's face.

"I think you'll be better off if you don't mention the liabilities in your life," Don suggested, no doubt referring to my husband and son. "Just be the Alexandra Romero we've all heard about, and do whatever he asks of you."

Having heard enough, I pushed past the men and into the private break area where a few people were standing around, drinking wine from flutes.

I zeroed in on who had to be him; Phil Sullivan. He was wearing a navy blue three-piece suit, had a balding head with spouts of dirty blonde hair, and black leather shoes that reflected the light of the chandelier above him. He had a belly that his hands were using as an arm rest, and was letting out a chortle I had grown to associate with rich bastards like him.

Sullivan was surrounded by a combination of security guards and other rich acquaintances, but I didn't let them make me nervous. Though I now had a lot more to lose, I had to be confident if I wanted him to take me seriously.

I walked over to them, their conversation dying down as they watched me approach them. "Mr Sullivan," I began, offering him a smile. "What a coincidence that our paths have crossed this evening."

"It is?" He asked, giving me a once-over before gesturing for the other men to leave us alone. They obeyed, spreading out in different directions, though the security guards remained within earshot.

"I've been meaning to meet you for a while," I said truthfully, folding my arms across my abdomen. "I have to say, I wasn't expecting to find you so easily."

"Just who are you?" He asked with a slight frown, his eyes curious.

I took in a deep breath before revealing, "My name is Alexandra Shelby."

Recognition and anger flashed across his features, and he looked around the room before glaring at me. "You have some nerve, showing up here."

"Relax, Mr Sullivan, I'm here to extend my apologies," I explained. "My family do not deserve to be target of your rage."