Jericho hadn't the slightest clue why his underboss was in front of him and interrupting his coffee break, but he decided to brush off the idea entirely. His office was the same cramped space as always, only this time, he had company to share the isolation with. And the company came in form of Asa Bardot. He joined years ago, together with Mr. Spade. They found each other in the lowest of their lives and decided to do something new together. Jericho wished he and his best friend had the same fate. His eyes flickered over to the photo on his desk, but Asa's voice brought him out of any potential thoughts he might have had.

"Sir, we have bigger problems than Miss Evermore."

Jericho blamed Asa knowing her name on Theo, knitting his fingers together and leaning forward. "And what paperwork will I have to fill out today, Mr. Bardot? Did June finally take his revenge on Ivan?"

"I wish it were that simple, sir," Asa said, pausing to shift in his seat and dab the sweat on his neck with the palm of his hand. "A member of the High Council has been assassinated."

His cells froze with his mind, and his pupils dilated until his vision blurred, the room becoming a mess of shapes and lines mending together to become mush. "What did you just say?"

"A member of the High Council was assassinated. We don't know who exactly, but the odds are they'll be coming to New York to appoint a new member. Mr. Novak, I believe they may choose you."

"In what universe does a Council member get assassinated, and in what universe does that lead me to being next in line?"

"You've been leader for five years, sir. One of the most successful at that. The odds are it'll go to either you or Miss Evermore. Two of the most prestigious leaders in recent history. Why wouldn't they hire you?"

Jericho rubbed his fingers on his temple, his thoughts a mess of cartwheels and front flips. "Do you know when they're going to visit?"

"A representative is coming soon, sir. Eladio, I believe his name is. I can gather a team and do more research, if you'd like."

"No need," Jericho said, shifting his weight onto his elbows as he pressed them on the desk. "The first thing a right hand does when they're appointed is do research on the High Council. I'll ask Theo for any information he may have. Thank you for telling me, Asa."

Mr. Bardot dipped his head. "Am I dismissed, sir?"

Jericho considered saying yes. The word stepped on the tip of his tongue, flattening it against the bottom of his mouth. Yet the sentence he said was different from anything that was happening in his mind.

"Your friendship with Theo. Is it strong?"

Asa's dark skin took a pale Jericho didn't know was possible. For a split moment, Jericho forgot he was the leader of one of the most dangerous mafias worldwide. He forgot that Asa's mind was wondering if Jericho was testing him rather than asking a simple question. Jericho should have reassured him he wasn't asking as a test. It was supposed to be genuine curiosity. But like the word 'yes', it disappeared from his body entirely.

"Yes sir. Very."

"How?"

At Asa's head tilt, Jericho took the picture off his desk and brought it closer. He didn't allow Asa to see, but he didn't need to. He got the idea as soon as Jericho brushed his fingers down the sides of it, cleaning the dust off and letting the colors come back to the image.

"I found him," Asa said, and his voice hitched for a moment too long. "His house was burning, and I pulled him out."

"You could've kept walking."

"I didn't."

"Do you wish you did?"

"Not for a moment," he replied. His eyebrows were raised, but it wasn't from concern or confusion. Actually, Jericho had no idea what the action was for. "He saved me, sir."

"Mr. Spade was in a burning house. You pulled him out of it. Wouldn't you say it was the other way around?"

Asa's hands tightened around themselves until his knuckles brightened. "No."

Jericho set the frame down, dusting it off one last time before running a hand through his hair and scanning the rest of his abode. It was more like his home than his bedroom was. But it was just as empty as his bedroom. The only thing that drew his attention anymore was the portrait of the leader prior to Jericho. The one who was brutally murdered years ago. And it was Jericho's fault. Everything always was.

"You're dismissed."

Mr. Bardot thanked him and left, leaving the door open when Jericho requested so. He stood and waited a moment, then departed his office after. Asa was already gone, Jericho gave him a head start. He tied his hands behind his back and bowed to his guards. They returned it. And after, Jericho sauntered down the narrow corridors with tearing wallpapers and fading cream shades.

There was a spade design sewn into the carpet, and it oozed a sense of royalty. That was far from what they were. Unmei was his mafia, and he was fine with that, but sometimes it felt like he was going through the motions. Ever since he lost the only thing he cared about, leading seemed purposeless. Ironic, right? Jericho threw away everything for power. Then everything threw him away once he got it. It was a decision he had to live with. He wished he could say he had.

The coiled corridors led to one of the central rooms. Jericho had a bedroom that was larger than his house as a child, yet this room could combine ten of his bedrooms and still have space left over. Many guards were here, dropping off paperwork to one of Jericho's several underlings who collected them. Desks were set up, lights on full blast to the point where everyone's eyes, no matter how dark, appeared a bright color.

Jericho came by, and the chatter fell. He received several salutes and bows as he went. The floors were hardwood and a coconut hue, the bulbs of the chandelier reflecting in the polished boards. The front door wasn't far, and that was where he desired to go, but Theo rushed over from the other side of the hall.

"Sir, I-"

"Asa filled me in on the Council. Assassination and something about a meeting."

"No sir, it's not that."

Jericho slowed his pace until he was almost frozen, his head swiveling to observe all of Theo's features. He had a scar down his right cheek, a mole under his nose, and chapped, thin lips that were pursed in concentration. Without a word, Jericho motioned for him to continue. If only the words that followed didn't have his heart hopping to his throat.

"Miss Evermore is here."

~~~

"You must have a death wish."

Charlotte Evermore was waiting in his garden, her hand tracing over a petal on a white rose. His garden was nothing like the greenhouse, but it was nice in its own way. White arches made it more appealing than it really was, many flowers covering the beds laid out. They were color coded too, and this section was the lighter ones.

The greenhouse was primarily used for neutral meetings and exchanges of gold coins, their currency. Jericho didn't go often, which was why he was so amazed to see Charlotte there. It didn't occur to him that beforehand, he probably saw her in the greenhouse before. Only then, she didn't matter to him. Now she mattered too much.

Charlotte herself wore colors that matched the space around her. She wore a romper at the greenhouse, and she wore one here, only this one was like cream with golden flowers sewn into the body of it. It showed off her legs well, same with her collarbone. There were no tattoos or marks anywhere on her shown skin, and he had to admit that was impressive. Living in a mafia world without any burn marks. Even Jericho had a burn mark on his shoulder from a confrontation last week.

"Maybe. I came to talk about the High Council. Maybe about our failed meeting as well."

"Why would you risk your life like that? I could've had you killed."

Theo told Jericho that they searched her already, but were waiting for his word on killing her. Jericho made the mistake of keeping her alive. He wasn't sure why. Charlotte Evermore, his rival, showed up to his estate unannounced. He had to admit that piqued his curiosity. Perhaps a bit too much.

"Maybe you should have," she said, turning to face him. "My whole life I never had a choice. Even this one, showing up? It wasn't truly my decision. So if you killed me, it would've been freeing me from whatever this hell is."

"Are you reciting your suicide letter to me, Miss Evermore?"

"I'm not trying to die, but I'm not sure I'm trying to live either."

"Enough with the cryptic bullshit. Tell me more about the Council, and maybe I won't kill you when this is over," he said, but she didn't so much as flinch at the force of his words.

"I'm sure you've heard the news by now. A High Council member is dead. If the Council can't even protect themselves, what's to say the entire Underworld isn't going to fall apart?"

"The Council is worse than any mafia I've ever faced," he said with a snort. "Does anyone honestly like the Council anymore? It's not like you're shocked about one getting executed."

It was the truth. The High Council were the overlords of the Underworld. They resided in London, and they consisted of 12 - now 11 - members. An assassination was rare simply because of how difficult it was to find them let alone kill them. They were on par with Jericho in terms of fighting ability. Both Jericho and the High Council trained their whole lives for fighting. Huh. Maybe it did make more sense to him now. Why he would be chosen for the High Council, he meant. He did meet the qualifications perfectly, and that was without mentioning how he was the leader of one of the most notorious mafias worldwide. Maybe Asa was right after all.

If Jericho were to go around asking his peers if they liked the High Council, most would say yes out of fear it was a test. But if he were just another pawn, a low-level mafia, and he went around asking? Everyone's answer would be no. They were living their grand life while the rest of the Underworld did the hard work for them to prosper. They hosted parties once a year that were concerts disguised as a secret meeting. Those parties were open to the public. Even Jericho could go if he wanted to. But finding the Council meeting would be near impossible because of the security.

Jericho didn't like the Council very much, same with the rest of the universe. It was no surprise Miss Evermore felt the same way. And for some reason, he respected her more for that. He stepped a bit closer, still giving her personal space, but close enough that he could see the little specs of hazel in her otherwise navy eyes.

"I don't know, Mr. Novak. I wanted to like them. They're our rulers, after all. But it seems as though every part of this stupid world continues to fail me." She shut her mouth for a moment, tilting her head as if studying him. "I've done so much research on you, gained so much information, looked at so many pictures, yet I still feel like I have no idea who you are."

"Isn't that the point?" he asked, stepping past her and by her side, petting one of the petals like she did not long ago. "No offense, but I don't really want you to know me."

She glanced at him, then at his hand on the petal. "I'm trapped."

"You're the leader of an infamous mafia. You have all the riches in the world and more guards to keep you safe than I can count. The world is yours. How in the hell does that translate to you being trapped?"

What surprised him the most was her reluctance to answer at first. Her lips opened, then closed again, and he found himself staring at them without meaning to. Her hands formed little fists that shook, her knuckles pale. When she spoke again, he found himself actually listening.

"Jericho," she said, and his body froze at the use of the name. "I'm not here to talk about the Council, or our territory. I know there's cameras on us, and probably a sniper ready to take me out if I so much as pinch you, but I came to have a private conversation with you."

"Why me?"

"Because I'm trapped. The High Council controls me, my mafia controls me, even my deceased fucking father controls me. And despite the territory war we have going on, you're the only one who doesn't control me right now. Maybe I want to enjoy that for a few minutes. I don't care if we just stay here in silence, but any time away from the hell I call my home is better than nothing at all."

Jericho observed her more closely than before. Hair that bordered between blonde and ginger was illuminated by the sun, and her skin was mixed between pale and tan, her eyes complimenting her slim face. She had no scars on her face unlike the rest of the damn Underworld, and her hands were untouched when it came to callouses. Her body had muscles where they needed to be, but not an overwhelming amount. No wonder why she made a good leader. She was well spoken and knew her craft, and he assumed she utilized her attractiveness to get what she wanted. He couldn't blame her for that. Maybe he even admired her for it.

"You're saying dangerous things, don't you think? We're rivals that are supposed to be at each other's throats."

"There are much worse ways to die, Mr. Novak."

Jericho considered her words, his hand inching closer to hers before he could tell himself to stop. He caught himself at the last moment and averted his gaze to the flowers, wondering why the hell his rival was so dangerous. Not because of her charms and power. Not because of the size of her mafia. And not even because of the connections she had. It was because she was starting to make sense.

"Silence it is, then," he said, and her eyes bulged on his side profile, but he didn't meet her curious stare. Instead, he peered at the rose beneath him and shook his head. What the hell did he just sign up for?

And more importantly, why didn't it scare him?

~~~

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