Heartstrings

(1) Vile

No wedding. No truce.

Lucas Frazier relished the sharp streak the whiskey had drawn in his throat. Women glittered past in sequined dresses, eyes lingering on him. He was more interested in his whiskey though. That and the sweet taste of revenge later tonight.

He should've declined the invitation, but the engagement party was one of the significant events in the mob life. Plus, he had to be there to not be suspected of turning the most important wedding – the gravest transaction between the Western Society and South – into a laughingstock.

He and the three other Societies had been in a cold war. They sneak into one another like the vile monsters that they are. Lucas wanted to retaliate after having one of his warehouses bombed. It was billion dollars drifting like debris.

He wanted to be more underhanded. Which meant he had to be at the party, making peace. Because the western Mafia lord is marrying off his precious daughter to the South's for an attempt of power over the other Societies.

To some it was some sort of truce, but he knew better.

Lucas will not let that happen.

Later tonight, he'll happily be slicing open the Southern leader's wrinkly neck. The West will be deeply insulted. The South will stagger without its leader. Its counterpart will suspect the other societies. The North will be insulted for having been suspected. His Eastern Society will have to prepare for war.

Now, he just needed one of his soldiers to clear his way. The forty-year-old groom is at his suite at the moment next to the young, Mafia princess the West has held dear and in secret. The most prized possession of the Western Society.

Matteo Deniro surely saved his best weapon to advance his tactics.

As much as the mystery princess intrigued him, he had bigger fish to fry. He could see right through the conniving mafia lord. He could because his father used to be the dishonest ruler of the four societies when he was still too young, but not too little to start his training.

Jacob, his brother slinks his way toward him, his gray eyes devouring every women passing by. "Lucas, plans changed," he murmurs, sipping on his own drink.

He kept his gaze straight ahead.

"Someone beat us to it. Our men found old Swanson with knife plunged under his chin, another straight to his heart."

Lucas gritted his teeth. "Shit."

"Yeah. That's not even the shittiest part yet. He was with a woman. She saw our soldiers coming in right after the bastard got knifed."

"Woman?"

"Yes. Maybe one of his mistress. We've taken her with us in case she warns the Western Society. She's seen our men."

He clicked his tongue, his hand straining around the glass of his whiskey. "Fuck."

"We'll rid of her. Tonight didn't go as planned, but there's still no wedding. Which means, no truce. We actually did the bride a little favor for killing off her soon-to-be smelly husband," Jacob chuckles.

"Where's the woman?"

"Car. Drugged." His brother shrugged. "You want to get rid of her now?"

"No. We need to know who beat us to it. She's the only person who saw the real culprit."

Jacob nodded. "Okay. Taking her home then. By the way, guards will be alerted by now."

Just then, a swarm of armed guards rushed in the ballroom, sending panics to the women. Men had pulled out their guns.

Lucas sighed. Now he has to find who didn't want the truce between the West and South in the first place.

He ordered his men to pan out. Otherwise it would've been suspicious knowing other Societies were on full alert. He had to make it look like they were clueless as the others.

They hadn't found anything.

No surprise there. Whomever or whichever among the three Societies had done it, the South and West surely wasn't pleased about it.

Sensing threat from one another, they all retreated to their territories.

Lucas had some questioning to do with the witness. He needed to get to the bottom of Swanson's killing. He had a feeling the South is planning retribution. He doesn't want to wait another day.

He sat in his ergonomic chair, the panoramic view of the city behind him. He sighed when he finally heard the knock he's been waiting for.

"Enter."

His brother comes in, followed by Sebastian, his right hand. Two of his men towed behind.

"Sleeping beauty's awake." Jacob nodded his head to the door where two more of his men is ushering the woman.

She protested when one of them clasped her shoulder.

They shove her in front of his desk, one arm restraining her from behind, the other holding a gun to her chin.

She stood stiff and meet his gaze.

Lucas hadn't expected her to be... gorgeous. Her crumpled hair was a shade of midnight behind her shoulders. Her blue eyes were deep and captivating. Her lips was a pink, firm little bow that refused to move. Not even a twitch.

His eyes trailed down her slender neck, lingering on the delicate drawings of her collarbone. The satin robe has allowed a delicate display of skin. Her creamy skin.

He wasn't the only man in the room who are throwing lascivious eyes her way. Apparently even his man holding her into place is having the time of his life.

"Too beautiful for a mistress. Why sell yourself short with the old Swanson?" Ben tightened his arm.

Lucas shots up a finger. "Release her."

He stepped aside.

The woman breathed heavily, her shoulders drooping from tension.

"Who are you?" He asks.

She shifted in discomfort with her hands tied behind her. "I'm who and what you think I am," she answers. Her voice was every bit as she looked – soft and delicate.

"Damn. You need to tell us where to find fine mistresses like you." Jacob chuckled.

He shot him a warning look before turning to her. "Name."

"Sophie."

Fuck, even her name sounds so innocent.

"Why were you in his room in the first place?"

"He asked me to be there."

His jaw twitched. "And his guards?"

"I asked Swanson to make them leave," she murmurs mechanically.

"Stupid son of a bitch." Jacob shakes his head.

Lucas ignored him. Although he had a point. It's what got Swanson an easier target. "Who killed him?"

"I don't know," she murmurs.

His men stepped forward and pointed their guns to her head. It was standard procedure.

Fear flits past her eyes in the briefest second. "You can point a hundred more guns at me but it won't make me see what I hadn't seen last night."

"That attitude will put a bullet through your skull," he says, stifling his amusement.

Her blue eyes darted to his gun. She held her head high. "Then do it."

His office shook from the loud guffaws of his men inside.

He leans back against his chair, trying to hold back a smile.

"You're going to do it anyway," she murmurs, holding her ground.

Lucas shakes his head. "That's it for tonight. Call Agatha."