He tilts his head, his chilly blue eyes are blank. "Forcing me to waste my valuable time to teach you a lesson will not end well."
"For me? Maybe, maybe not," I shrugged, "but I can promise it will cost so much more thanyou'rewilling to pay." I lead Cora away, knowing that he's watching us.
"So there's history there, huh?" she murmurs as we leave the area.
"Eh, he's an arrogant asshole who thinks he owns the entire state of Massachusetts because his people have been squatting here for generations," I said. "I'm not interested in taking him on, though. There's plenty of room here. He's just being a greedy son of a bitch."
"Always so complicated," she sighed. "The endless jockeying for power."
We stroll around for a while, nodding to aquaintances and making sure my beautiful bride - and her wedding ring - are highly visible.
“Mr. Toscano, Mrs. Toscano, how nice to see you here.”
We turn to find a gorgeous blonde, maybe early forties, elegantly holding her champagne flute with two fingers. She’s short and sleek with a beautifully fitted silver evening gown.
“Doing reconnaissance, Marietta? Nice. Let me introduce my beautiful bride. Cora, this is Marietta Georges, she’s our events planner for Deconstructed and the new hotel. Marietta, my wife, Cora Thorne Toscano.”
“A pleasure,” Cora smiles, shaking her hand.
“We stole her away from the Montecasino in Johannesburg,” I said proudly, “her plans for Deconstructed’s grand opening are genius.”
She laughs politely, shrugging. “Your husband is too kind, but I appreciate the vote of support.”
“It must be a challenging place to promote,” Cora said, “part nightclub, part restaurant, part… Well, you know?” she finished weakly.
“The nightclub and restaurant portions sell themselves,” Marietta winked, “but the other requires a certain level of discretion and rumors that obtaining a membership is very difficult. At any rate, I thought I’d come tonight and see if there’s any new trends, or Boston's favorite traditions that must be included in our plans.”
“Then we’ll leave you to it,” I said, “It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise,” she agrees, “and a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Toscano.”
“Cora, please,” my wife says with a warm smile.
With another nod, Marietta leaves us, heading over to examine the entry decor.
“She looks like a good addition to your team,” Cora said as I handed her another glass of wine.
“Marietta came highly recommended,” I agree, adding a bid to a handful of items in the silent auction. “Anything here you want?”
She chuckles, leaning over to see the bid I’d placed on a beautiful katana. “I’m pretty sure you’re winning this one. Is a sword another one of your deadly skills?”
“No, I failed kenjutsu at the Ares Academy,” I shrug, “but I like collecting beautiful things.” I give her a filthy grin, which makes her roll her eyes.
“So, tell me about this Ares Academy, is it a private college?” Cora asks, “Ares… like the God of War?”
“Exactly,” I said, lowering my voice and drawing her over to a quiet corner away from the crowded bar. The museum is a massive glass building that extends out over the harbor itself, so the lights from the building reflect off the waves. From the second floor, we can see the entire city. My city now.
“A secretive educational institute named after the Greek god Ares?” she says skeptically, “It sounds like the kind of place where you all stand around chanting and sacrificing chickens to the Dark Lord Chronos.”
“It is a private college, and very hard to get into,” I explained, “the students are from crime families, a few billionaire’s kids, one or two highly placed political offspring from all over the globe. Calculus is not as important in our world as surviving torture, or interrogation techniques.”
She looks very alarmed. “Wait. Theytorturedyou? Like your professor said, ‘Hey Dario, come up here because I’m going to rip out your fingernail to see how you handle it?’”
“Well, close,” I agreed. “We did it to each other and the professor graded us based on our responses.” Her mouth is hanging open, and I put a finger under her chin and lift it gently.
“I was kidding when I said that, you know,” she gasps, “tell me you're kidding, too, right? You’re kidding?”
“No,” I said, taking a gulp of the medium-level scotch they were serving tonight. “Everything from assassinations to securities fraud.”
