Free Web NovelChapter 46: The target on her
"Still mad at me?" Julian asked with a grin.
Lyvana didn’t look up, her thumb swiping aggressively across the cracked screen of her phone.
"No, I’m not," she responded.
"Liar," he chuckled, stepping into her space until their toes touched. Then he lifted her chin from the phone, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"If you are not mad, give me a kiss."
"I am not mad and I am not kissing you," she replied.
"Then you are still mad at me," Julian teased, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Lyvana rolled her eyes, trying to push him away, but Julian didn’t move.
"Don’t push it, Julian."
"I like pushing it," he murmured. "Especially with you. Ok, let’s say you’re no longer mad at me, then prove it, in your own way."
"And what way is that?"
He leaned closer. "You tell me."
She sighed, shaking her head. Then she placed her hands flat against his chest.
"You want proof?" she said softly.
"I do."
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she rose on her toes and brushed the lightest kiss against the corner of his mouth. Before he could react, she pulled back.
"That is proof enough."
Julian tried to pull her back, but she was already walking away with her phone in hand, her focus entirely on the call she was about to make.
A half-hour later, Julian walked in from the kitchen holding a tray which he set down on the bedside table, the steam from the freshly cooked chicken soup carrying a savory, comforting scent. He handed her a small cup of medication and watched her carefully to make sure she took it.
"What did your grandmother say?" he asked.
Lyvana set the empty cup down, a small spark of excitement returning to her eyes.
"She agreed to help with my work expenses. It’s a lot, actually, because of the orders we have to fulfill and planning the runway show at the end of the month. I don’t have to worry about funding for now."
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black titanium bank card, setting it on the tray next to the soup.
"I have an account which I want you to use for your transactions," he said firmly. "It’s secure, and you can use it for now. I have also deposited the money we agreed on when I signed the contract. There is ten million dollars in it to cover my twenty percent."
Lyvana looked at the card, then up at him, stunned. "Ten million? Julian, that’s—"
"That is what we agreed on," he interrupted smoothly, sliding the tray closer to her.
"No we agreed on five million."
"Really? Well consider it your war chest. Whether it’s for the fabrics, the venue, or keeping your staff paid while we sort out the mess in Aurora, you use it. I don’t want you asking anyone else for a cent." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
He picked up the spoon and blew on the soup before offering it to her. "Now, eat. You can’t run an empire on an empty stomach."
....
John ran a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed nervously on the street below the window of the tiny studio apartment.
"Why do you look so nervous?" El, his brother asked entering the room.
John turned to him, his expression flashing with anger. He said nothing, instead crossing the room to pull a beer from an old fridge.
"That girl you hit yesterday... I know her," John said. "I just saw the police report."
"Oh? And?" El asked.
"The commissioner had us do a whole mop-up for her."
"Mop-up? What’s that. Look just chill man. She didn’t die, did she?"
John shook his head, but his jaw remained set. "In the future, don’t call me for any job involving that girl. You got that?"
"Whoa, bro," El said, putting his hands up. "These tiny jobs fetch good, easy money. I only did you a favor, like I always do."
John stepped closer to El, gripping the beer bottle tight. "A word of advice, stay away from that girl. Someone very important is backing her."
El let out a short, dry laugh, but it died down when he saw the look in John’s eyes.
"Important? Come on, John. She’s just a student who might have pissed of someone with good money. Who could be backing her that would make you sweat?"
"I don’t know who he is yet," John said. "But the order to scrub the scene didn’t come from the precinct. It came from the top. If you touch her again, or even go near her, I won’t be able to pull you out of the hole you’re digging."
"Fine. Message received. She’s radioactive. I’m out." El was looking completely unbothered.
John turned back to the window, watching a dark SUV cruise slowly past the building. He didn’t tell El the most important part. A mop-up, no matter how simple, was a high-level operation usually reserved for matters of national security, certainly not for petty fashion industry disputes.
Such maneuvers involved the use of ghosts operatives with no identities, people whose records had been erased, people presumed dead. And yet, they had been used for Lyvana. That is not something to be taken lightly.
"Look El, try not to accept any future jobs involving her," he said, taking a long pull of his beer. "Or better yet, don’t accept any more jobs from whoever hired you for this one. If they’re targeting her, they’re playing a game way above your pay grade."
With that, John walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. El snorted and reached into the fridge for a beer, popping the cap open. He had never seen his brother so rattled over a girl before.
John was a police officer, but his mountain of debt meant they frequently took special side jobs that paid far better than the precinct ever could.
He took a long swig of the cold liquid, dismissive of John’s warnings. He didn’t care about ghosts or national security; all he cared about was the $50,000 they had been paid just to shake her up. It was the easiest money he’d ever made.
He certainly wasn’t going to stop now, not when the payday was this high.
As if on cue, his phone vibrated against the counter. He picked it up, a greedy grin spreading across his face as he saw the private number.
"Yeah?" he answered, leaning back against the kitchen sink.
"We’re doubling the fee," a distorted voice said. "We need you to shoot the target but not to kill her. We will send you a location and time if you accept this offer."
"Hell yeah."
