I turn around ever-so-sharply at the familiar voice. His face is full of shock, too. Now that he is dressed to the nines in a professional way, he looks more manly than he did, but still retains the naivety of the bartender from before.

"You, here-" I mutter confused, until I start to piece together the facts that he worked in Tease Beat which apparently belongs to Wolfe. Yet again, the bartender- why?

"My pleasure on having met you twice," he beckons me with a gentle smile. "I'm Dan Fabrizi."

"Achelois Crimson," I nod, returning his kind smile. His eyes travel to my feet and he notices the gum on my stilettos.

"Oh, I shall call someone to help," he mutters thoughtfully and looks around. I shake my head frantically. "No thanks, I'll manage," I smile cheerfully and use the piece of wrapper to remove it. It's fairly easy because I made it moist just the same. Creepy and nasty, but helpful information that I've pocketed now makes it worth the pain. I throw the wrapper into a trashcan at the side and use a pocket sanitizer to clean my hands. "Fancy seeing you here."

"The same could be said for you, yet, you quite gave off those elite vibes," he nods and grins. "I work for Mr. Theodore-"

"Why don't we settle this in my office, Miss Crimson, and," I feel Wolfe's eyes trained on Dan, "Mr. Fabrizi." He stretches the 'z' in Dan's name. I have little time to make something of it as I feel myself walking into Wolfe's cabin. Dan maintains a professional stance as he crosses his wrists behind his back and stands in front of Wolfe's desk as he walks into his seat. "Miss Crimson, Mr Fabrizi, have your seats."

"Sit down," he says, not bothering to take the heels of his shoes off his mahogany desk. His voice is the perfect melange of disdain and annoyance. For once, I put aside my stubbornness and sit down, my fingers slowly grazing my mouth in thought and the expensive material of my satin suit pants stretching across my lithe thighs, the ankle-rise pants now inching a little farther up my leg, slowing a bit more skin.

"Dan," Wolfe introduces him to me curtly, "He works for me. He spies for me at Tease Beat usually, but I assign him prime locations sometimes too."

"And I assume this is one of those times," I shrug, "Nevertheless, good to know."

"She's Achelois Crimson," Wolfe nods at me but his eyes are on Dan. "Theodore and Co.'s chief senior economic analyst and financial advisor alongside Mr. Thelonious."

"And it's completely my pleasure for having run into her once again," Dan smiles at me coolly and then snaps his eyes back to Wolfe. "We can wait, Sire."

"Actually, I might make the best of this assembly," Wolfe spares us a glance before reaching for his drawer, but I see the smug smile beneath it. I feel the chill creeping up along my back. "Dan. Have a look."

He hands Dan a stack of prints and Dan's eyes carefully skim through the paper and he passes it back to Wolfe. "I see, Sire. Twenty fifth of May, it says."

I figure out what they're talking about. I almost raise my voice until I realize Dan is with us too. I might be psychotic and a heartless bitch, but I'm not the kind who backstabs people and basks in the consequences they suffer unless it is an enemy whose downfall I've sworn to cause.

"Top security. Miss Crimson here will be accompanying us."

"Security?" I say incredulously, not able to stay shut any longer, "This is exactly why I despise this stuff."

"We often loathe life itself but we still live on. Our hope is the strongest when it should be the weakest. That is the nature of hope, Miss Crimson." His face contorts into a hard, poker face and I hear the tiniest gasp that my mouth makes. Dan is still looking at the papers- he isn't focused, but as our eyes clash, I feel the lethal electricity starting to pass through my veins as every syllable of the words has rolled off his tongue.

The words that are mine.

He sets out another file for Dan, who takes it without looking up at all, yet I feel Wolfe's eyes on me all along. The black swirls in his orbs, the grey from the edges creeping and mixing as if it were a photoshoot for colours. They're like the night sky without anything else in sight- a view I've seen all the nights in my life, yet the only difference is it is as if the moon hides its brightness, revealing the dark side itself. Both hiding and revealing. Both running and staying.

Both horrifying and relieving.

"Oakwood Residence, two days before and two days after," Dan nods, finally raising his head. My eyes flicker to the background of Wolfe, to the busy New York roads and Wolfe talking with Dan casually rings in my subconscious- him tackling the eye contact as if it never happened- but we know it did, we both felt it happen.

Even now, the aftershocks ravage every inch of my nerves.

"Exactly. Guards are to be stationed at the venue from a day before and are to raid the entire system for any prevailing threats. An emergency exit-"

"One second, W- Mr. Theodore," my voice snaps up and Wolfe flinches just slightly, "Why is it being treated like it were a murder mission instead?"

Wolfe looks sideways, almost exasperated as if I'm stupid enough to question it when someone as important as him is being so cautious about this. Dan looks at me and nods. "Miss Crimson," he says seriously, his voice no longer belonging to the bartender from Tease Beat, "You mightn't know if you're new, but there are quite a lot of people who'd want Sire Theodore dead."

"Dead?" I ask incredulously.

"Mr. Theodore is the creator and owner of one of the most successful and elite business empires across the world. Not just business rivals, but just his nod might be enough to devastate hundreds of important politicians. It's obvious," Dan smiles, "He has bounties on his head that probably will pay off more than thrice of what Europe and the States will cost together."

"Don't give her ideas, Dan," Wolfe chuckles, "I'm quite sure Miss Crimson here wouldn't mind turning me in."

"Mr. Theodore," I face him, "I might come off as careless, but you've been told time and again that with the slightest of hints, I can figure out more than you might have till then," I repeat his words from before and enjoy the shifting of his features, "If someone's got a bounty on your head, and you're here, careless and forsooth, confident enough that you'll live, you've obviously made sure nobody can even scratch you in the slightest." I snort and and roll my eyes, "Are you a vamp or something, immortal?"

"Guilty as charged," he puts his fingers to his lips but the twitch of his lips is undeniable, "-and I believe in your abilities as sure as I am that at least a million people are planning my murder out but in vain at the moment," he takes his legs off the table and leans forward. His smug expression is now accentuated by an equally smug grin that I despise.

"Also, Dan," he turns to him, who watches our exchange with a neutral expression, "You did well on the article stuff. I'm sure if you hadn't made sure we had bought the shares of the Times New York yesterday so that the article could be taken down, we'd have a few more murder reports to look at today. She might look quite serene and charming, yet you need to look at her through my eyes, anyways." His eyes turn to me and I see the evil glint in the deep charcoal. "I'm certain Miss Crimson hates stupid associations."

"Anything, Sire," Dan smiles.

"That's all for Achelois. You can leave. I'll call you again sometime later. Also, two guards will be posted right outside your door and five more around your residential complex, Miss Crimson." I grunt in disappointment.

For a long time, the click of my stilettos when in contact with the floor is the only sound I can hear, until the second one I hear the door close in a deafening silence.

Spies must work in that secrecy.

"I'm going to give you some advice, free of charge. You should take it to heart—if you want yours to remain beating."

"That sounds like a threat." Dan murmurs.

"Semantics," I hear Wolfe laugh, and the next time he speaks, his voice has dropped a few octaves, sending chills down nerves in me that I didn't know existed.

"Stay away from her."

I walk away, feeling the chill cripple me from inside and the air sucks me in. The chill that was entangled around those words, the octaves dropping- the life threatening caution message, the words that he spilled. A chill sweeps through me from the combination of his tyrannical attitude and my now-damp clothes. And from his dark, brooding voice that penetrates to my bones.

Who are you, really, Wolfe?

And most importantly, why are you after me?

The stage is set, because I might have picked up on hints that'll set the chess board upside down.

And when a chess board is flipped over- it brings along chaos, confusion, disturbance, and most importantly, destruction.

The walk back to my floor and cabin is a slow, thoughtful one. Why do I feel like everytime Wolfe says 'she', it's something grueling, and about me. I try to put the puzzle pieces together again, yet it disperses into the voids of my mind, as if mocking me. The pieces are too few, the image too large.

Will I figure it out before Wolfe makes his move; whatever he is planning to do?

"Miss Crimson?" A woman's voice pulls me out of my thoughtful haze. Ysabel pulls out a record and brings it to me. "You have a client waiting right-"

"I suppose I asked the clientele to be put on pause today. Where is Ysabel?" I question the red-headed woman who looks sheepish. She's probably one of the in-the-moment temps who fills in for a short time when the principal employee is absent.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," she bows, "Miss Ysabel was called upstairs by one of the higher authorities," she nods, "I was asked to fill in. And the client isn't a regular client," she whispers, as if afraid, "He booked an appointment with you just half an hour back and got his way through the lengthy waiting list that you have."

I look at the woman cautiously before eyeing her identity card momentarily. The watermark on the silk of it's band says Theodore and Co., California. A flicker of suspicion crosses my mind. Ysabel being called upstairs all of a sudden, the so-called important person who bought his way through the waiting list to meet me.

"Fine."

I walk into my room cautiously and sure enough, there is a brown-haired man, clad in a business suit, probably Armani, sitting at my desk in one of the visitor's seats, with his back facing mine. I turn around the table and purposefully make the clicking sound harder with my heels.

The man couldn't have been more than thirty or so. Appropriately dressed to look as one of California's most elite businessmen, he stands up when he sees me standing, facing him. He puts his hand forth and I grasp it with my hand coolly, squeezing on it harder than I intend to. His hand is tight and unaffected nevertheless, his face beaming with the perfect of all smiles.

"Pleasure meeting you, Miss Crimson," he smiles and it fades into a vague laugh, "So, the rumors were true, but you're really way more divine to look at than they say." I counter his compliment with a smile and release his hand, and indicate to him to sit down. He sits down and crosses his legs. Dark brown hair covers a lot of his forehead, he is something to look at. A shiny Rolex is strapped to his wrist, and I feel his brown eyes probing too far into me.

"However, I believe," I contradict him with a challenging smile that I believe would do the job of putting him in his place. "Beauty is not in how one looks, but how one is as a person and how he makes others feel about themselves."

"A beautiful woman is beautiful, but a beautiful woman with brains is a lethal combination," he replies right back, a psychotic smile dressing his lips. I bring my right hand down. His eyes tell me he doesn't notice it.

"After all, it all comes back to self confidence. The grass is greener where you water it," I smile back, a perfectly fake one to mock him and unlock my phone under the desk.

What he didn't see was my phone held by my right hand coming down.

"How classy, Miss Crimson," my name rolls off his tongue as if it were a poison he were craving, "You have everything to flaunt but you don't show it. A true example of simplicity being ultimate sophistication."

"You've been very modest about yourself, I suppose," I flip the topic towards him, "Getting to the top of my client list in record time, and even when I deny having clients for the day, the company almost forces this down on me," I smile at him with a glint of caution, "That must be quite something."

"I'm honored you're inquisitive," he laughs slightly, "However, I'm not one of your clients, I'd like to confirm."

No sooner have the words rolled off his tongue, I've done it.

I place my hands back on the table. His eyes do not leave my face.

"That's quite interesting," I say, and my fingers instinctively reach for my lips, my thumb brushing my lower lip thoughtfully. His eyes travel towards my mouth and snap back to my face so fast that I almost think I've imagined it but nothing can betray my eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Crimson," he smiles, his lips twitching upwards, "I'm Pyrrhos Deveraux."

A/N:-

Cliffhanger again!

*Sticks tongue out*

Fine, fine! This is an early update, so y'all owe me some nice ole' comments and votes. And of course, feedback is always bhelcome!

Chapter 16 is finally up with a new cliffhanger and who the hell is Pyrrhos Deveraux? And how many of you got your guesses right about who the mystery guy was? Dan, huh. A new piece in my game. *Evil smirk*

I get some 'stranger danger' vibes from this Deveraux guy. Cue, I wrote Deveraux because, well, I was thinking about Sophie Deveraux, the witch from The Originals. Gah, forget that. I'm just rambling on nonsense as usual. Also, I'm super sad because I miss school and friends and Nayasha is a mean little creature who I'll not hesitate to stab with the back of heels that ain't worth anything else. Cue, they're so hard to walk in! I'd rather bounce on my sneakers!

QOTD:- What kind of footwear is your favorite!?

I'm officially engaged to Sneakers. They're a lifesaver.

Okaie. Bye!

Your darling Little Monster who is obsessed with cliffhangers,
Disha😍👊