"Wow," I whistled aloud as I got in front of the building of my meeting. Right from the front door, you could tell that one night at the McCarthy Hotel cost loads of money. A tall building painted with simple yet beautiful beige color, with dozens of windows, including a small balcony for every room. At the very top was a spacious terrace, where I could imagine millionaires having brunch or cocktail parties. There were chairs and tables at the entrance, but not a single candle was lit on them at this time, so it looked kind of scary.
In front of the hotel stood a man dressed in a black suit. Even though it was late at night, he had a pair of sunglasses on his nose. This figure of a muscular man with a neutral but mysterious facial expression aroused respect in strangers. Something about him forced even me to be vigilant and be prepared to intervene if necessary.
The man caught my eye and measured me. Through the black slides, I couldn't identify exactly where his eyes were going, but from the familiar discomfort, I sensed that they were resting directly on me.
"I assume you are Miss O'Donnell," he said harshly out of nowhere and I suppressed the surprise that played with my facial expressions.
"You're right," I nodded, trying to invoke fake self-confidence hiding somewhere deep inside of me.
"Follow me then," he ordered, holding the door for me. "Mr. Mercado is waiting for you." Mr. Mercado. So, he's the friend?
I flipped through the imaginary list of all the acquaintances my family knew. The name Mercado was not there. As if someone like that didn't even exist.
The man in white led me through a long entrance hall, giving the impression of unadulterated luxury. We reached the end of the corridor where the elevator was.
"Go to the top floor," he said, raising an eyebrow from behind the rough frame. I walked closer to the elevator door and entered with one foot. Then the man's hand crossed my path. "No detours or I'll see it, is that clear?" As I looked straight into his face, I felt him adding the intensity of the grip. If he continues, I will lose a limb.
"Don't worry, it's not my first elevator ride," I said rudely, just as disgusted as he had been talking to me the whole time. With my free hand lowered against my body, I grabbed his long fingers and turned them up. Except for a loud bang, nothing could be heard. The man did not show any signs of pain, either by behavior or loud interjections. Finally, he released the awkward grip, and I boarded the elevator, which took me exactly where I was supposed to be.
The door opened, and two other young men in identical suits stood unsurprisingly in front of them. I could swear even their expressions were identical. Both waited for me to get out, then surrounded me, one on each side. I walked beside them, obediently like a soldier marching to the battle. Or to his execution, may I add.
My soles rubbed against the red carpet, and my eyes followed the surroundings like a hawk. Except for my lower limbs, my whole body was stiff, only my eyes blinked furiously. Bare red walls with several doors leading to God knows where. That was all I saw in the dim light of the light bulbs.
We stopped by the next, biggest door so far. I was drenched in a cold sweat, awaiting the big moment, but nothing was happening.
Then the door began to open, causing my heart to beat faster and faster. I clenched both hands in fists, ready to do whatever I'll need to. A man about the same age as my father appeared in front of me. He was not very tall, but despite that, he owned the whole room with his energy, attitude, and a pitiless expression on his wrinkled face. Hazelnut eyes, cold as ice, were hidden under thick eyebrows of the same color as his hair – dark brown.
"Greetings, Miss O'Donnell," his voice made me shiver from head to toes, and I couldn't sense not even a bit good in it. I was starting to feel like I got myself in a huge mess.
No response came from me.
"You could at least greet me before we go and discuss certain...matters together," he chuckled.
"Well maybe you should introduce yourself first," I replied measuredly, looking into the dark sunken eyes that pierced me like sharp blades. They glowed for a moment, then darkened again, as if someone had closed the shutters.
"You're right," he admitted. "Pardon me, please." The man cleared his throat and placed his hand in front of me. "I'm Santiago Mario Mercado." He paused as if waiting for me to introduce myself.
"You know who I am," I reminded myself rather than him. How much does he know about me? Where did he get this information from? Is it possible to trust him?
The number of questions exceeded the number of answers, which annoyed the shit out of me. I felt like a madman - chaos had been on my mind lately, preventing me from thinking soberly. I got lost in my thoughts and questions, I didn't know who I could trust and, worst of all, I began to doubt myself. Every day I got closer to the goal, I was further from myself.
"Don't look so surprised, Ria," Mercado smiled. "Everyone knows your father." I wish they didn't. "That's why it can be expected that they know you, too," he added. Unfortunately.
A strange silence between us occurred, accompanied by an even more strange tension. I didn't wait for time to show who was stronger. I decided to act first and broke the silence.
"Let's move on to why I'm here," I said in a firm voice. Mercado nodded and invited me in.
"You can come in..." The old man's eyes twinkled intensely at me, and I tried to move forward without puking. As soon as I crossed the doorway, an annoying beep sound spread across the room, and I was immediately surrounded by guards. Two of Mercado's men grabbed my arms.
Mercado did not look surprised.
"You probably left out a line in the letter where I made it clear that I didn't want you to come armed," he said in a calm voice, that sounded like the silence before the storm.
"I didn't even read your letter till the end," I lied, "the fire devoured him faster." Mercado frowned, ignoring the risky remark. He probably never loses his temper easily. That was a good sign... wasn't it? If there was cruelty or ruthlessness in him, I didn't need to wake it up.
At first glance, it may have seemed that I was trying to anger him, but it was not true, I just didn't want to make him think I needed him.
"Well, I'm kindly asking you to put all your weapons here," Mercado ordered, pointing down below him. Someone from his crew brought a suitcase on my weapons.
"And I'll ask you not to be touched by your gorillas anymore," I stressed, trying to shake their disgusting hands. Mercado grinned. Is that just me or had I impressed him?
"Guys, you have heard," he turned his head to his companions, "the lady does not want you to touch her." One of them snorted.
"If this is a lady, then-" The man — rather a boy — did not have time to complete the sentence, and he already had a weapon under his chin held by his superior.
"Is there a problem, Alexander?" Mercado asked coldly. A well-built blond boy squinted and swallowed dryly.
"No, sir," he said reluctantly.
"I thought so," Mercado snapped. However, he still dug his weapon into his chin. It was as if Alexander had stopped breathing for a second. Everyone was anxiously waiting for what would happen. Everyone except me. I knew very well what Mercado was all about. Same as Lucifer, he also tried to maintain people's loyalty by scaring them, making them think that an opinion different from their boss, equals their death.
I knew he won't kill him.
Mercado watched me.
"Ria, the bag is waiting," he said, letting go of Alexander. With a feigned willingness, I threw my backpack out of my shoulders and pulled a gun out of my jacket. I threw everything in my briefcase and, with my hands outstretched like Jesus on the cross, walked through the door again. The warning signal sounded again. This got me more attention.
"I told you to get rid of everything," Mercado emphasized.
"Sorry, I must not hear it well, maybe there's something with the echo in your apartment," I smirked. The figures behind me approached me cautiously, and I felt a strange breath on my skin. I was sure it belonged to Alexander. He was standing right behind me, waiting for further instructions. I bet he felt humiliated after his boss scolded him. Now he would do anything to appear better in front of Mercado. If he had sensed that my intentions were not pure, he would not hesitate and kill me right away. "If I were you, I'd choose another room," I said, as if someone cared, and quickly examined the area. "Maybe something classier." Well, this room was definitely very classy. I don't think anything more "classy" could be found. I felt like I had never seen a hotel room as spacious as this one. The high ceiling, from which hung golden chandeliers glittering like the most expensive jewels in the world, the walls painted with light mocha color in combination with stone brown were a perfect choice. They were covered with paintings of various sizes. The white sofa looked like it was made from cotton candy. Everything in this place looked perfect. And I didn't even see the whole apartment.
The white marble beneath my feet was too white for so many sinners to stand on it. I didn't like the sheer despair I saw on my face in the reflection of the floor at all.
"This room is the most luxurious they have here," Mercado said. He managed to disguise any emotions very well. Like my father ... When I remembered Lucifer, a fire broke out inside me, and I was afraid that if I didn't release the steam soon, not only these filthy people would pay for it, but also innocent people.
"Then the hotel needs to be replaced," I blurted out with a voice sharp like a razor. Mercado raised the right corner of his mouth, making my stomach heave.
"You have quite a sharp tongue, dear," he remarked, and I hoped that was all the old man had on his mind. But it wasn't. "I wonder what you can do with it."
The thought of what this man would be able to do, shake me.
Mercado's men chuckled. I caught Alexander's face with a smirk from ear to ear. When our eyes met, the blond guy stopped smiling and puffed his lips. Disgusted, I looked away at the black man standing next to him. If he hadn't aimed his gun at me, I'd admit he looked likable. I tried to figure out what made him different from his colleagues. He was the only one, who was not looking at me like I was the waste of society or a dead girl walking.
"Talk to me like that again, and I'll show you how I can throw knives with it," I threatened, having enough of these games.
Mercado barely nodded noticeably, letting his men know it was time for an inspection.
"Search," he muttered. Alexander took the chance and placed his big palms on me. He slid them over my body. Every time I felt his touch on my skin, seemed like suffering to me. But it was far from a real hell. I knew the worst hadn't happened yet, so I just stood there. I had to gain Mercado's trust and behave professionally. Even though I was just a stupid kid who was born into the wrong family and found herself at the wrong time, in the wrong place.
A stranger with cocoa skin watched the show in front of him silently. When Alexander grabbed me by the back of the thigh and squeezed me, the stranger took a small step forward. Who is he and why does he behave differently than others?
"What is Miss hiding there?" Alexander asked and Mercado's attention intensified. "Can you show us?"
"Should I undress here in front of everyone?" I said resignedly.
"You should have thought of that before you hid something there," Alexander mused. "Will you do it yourself or should I help you?" he asked, his eyes glowing with excitement.
"Oh, what a gentleman you are," I smiled ironically, pulling down my pants without hesitation. Exactly where Alexander's hand had just touched was the cloth case and knife. Alexander whistled and gave me another smirk.
"Look, boss, Miss O'Donnell really wants to show you how she can throw knives with her tongue."
"You guessed it," I nodded in agreement. "And you'll be the first target." I quickly removed the knife from the holster, and Mercado's men surrounded me on all sides, with weapons ready to fire. I smiled smugly. Does everyone really underestimate me like that? Why actually? Just because I'm a girl?
I turned the knife so that the sharp part pointed at me and threw it away. The knife fell directly into the suitcase, where the other weapons were.
"Would you like a drink, Ria?" Mercado asked hospitably, heading for another room. I pulled my pants back on and followed him, this time alone.