Obsidian Liquor

by Scarlett Dawn

  I sighed, and asked bluntly, “Are you even going to go near them?”

  Artur smirked. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

  I crossed my arms. “Either you go over there, or I’ll find a way without you.”

  He patted my hair. It instantly sprung back up, and he chuckled. “Natural redhead?”

  “It’s strawberry blonde,” I muttered grumpily, swatting his hand away when he went to touch it again like a little kid. “And, yes.”

  He grinned but jerked his head toward Grigori, Daniil, and Zoya. “I’ll take you to them.”

  I pointed at him. “We’ll stay there for as long as I wish.”

  “You’re awfully demanding to someone who’s doing you a favor.”

  “You aren’t doing me any favors. You’re just under daddy’s orders.” I smirked when he scowled. “Do you always do what daddy says?” God, I loved being a bitch sometimes.

  His face hardened. “Do you want to go over there, or not?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then shut up and I’ll take you.” He muttered under his breath, but I did not catch his words as he began herding me. When we arrived, he spoke harshly to Daniil in Russian, and I swear; Grigori chuckled before he stopped himself, staring down at me.

  Much like the king land shark was doing.

  I waved, ignoring their hostility. “Hello.” I zeroed in on Grigori, and stated softly, just loud enough to be heard over the band that was playing in the corner, “That was amazing what you and Ember did together.” I paused, gauging his reaction. Which was nothing. “The logical choice would have been for her to pick Brent or Cole. You know, not to piss her men off. But she picked you. Why do you think she did that?”

  Again, no reaction. Only that cold stare. “Is this on or off the record?”

  I paused, really thinking. This piece about their fighting together could be a real beauty; but, in the end, I was after a different fish altogether, so I answered, “Off the record.”

  He shrugged. “Because she wanted to win. She knew we could do it together.”

  I felt my lips purse. There had to be more to it than that. “Why would she think you would help her win where Brent or Cole couldn’t?”

  His own mouth twitched, and almost, dammit, almost his gaze started to crack, but I did not understand what I saw there before it was quickly blanked. “Because we practiced together for years compared to Brent, Cole, and her.”

  “Do you still practice together?”

  “No.”

  “Why?” It was blunt, but an honest question. If they had been training together for years, I did not understand why they would stop now.

  He placed a hand on Zoya’s back and shrugged. “She’s busy. I’m busy.”

  I decided to continue being blunt, pointing at Zoya. “Are you two an item?”

  He froze for only a moment, just long enough for me to notice.

  Zoya placed a hand on his chest, saying softly, “We’re old friends, but we have gone on a few dates recently.”

  I nodded, and felt a little evil when I saw Ember, Cole, and Brent moving behind them. I pulled out my camera. “I promise not to bother you two again tonight, if you’ll do me a favor.” Most people wanted the press gone and far away from them. This time was not any different by their expressions.

  Grigori’s eyebrows rose in curiosity.

  I stated, “No one has been able to get a photo of you two kissing. If I can get one, it would make my night.” I shrugged when Grigori’s eyebrows lifted further. “I exposed you for who you really are, so why not keep with the same reporter for this?” I smiled sweetly.

  Daniil had started to crowd my personal space, but peculiarly, he moved back as I spoke, letting me have my fun. However, I stayed focused on Grigori, who was looking unwaveringly emotionless.

  Zoya shrugged. “Why not? Our first kiss on film. I wouldn’t mind having a copy of it.”

  Ah. First kiss. I tried not to grin at that information. Drink up, baby, drink up.

  Grigori peered at her, obviously hearing the honesty in her tone, his gaze on hers.

  I quickly put the camera up to my eye, making sure to get Ember in the shot behind them. She was staring as Brent and Cole talked to Zane, silently watching as Grigori lowered his head. I immediately started hitting the fast action button, taking a least twenty shots as his lips gently touched hers, kissing her softly. Ember, her face turned whiter than when Grigori had popped her shoulder back into place…but her eyes were like a violent burning furnace she was so enraged.

  God, it was a beautiful shot.

  Grigori did not take the kiss too far, even when Zoya acted like she wanted to.

  I lowered my camera, doing a stellar job of keeping the smirk off my face. “That was perfect. Thank you.” I glanced behind them where Ember was barely keeping it together. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone else I would like to speak with. Have a nice evening.”

  Grigori nodded, and I started maneuvering between him and his father, but I paused, glancing back up, asking, “Out of curiosity, what did the Mayor say to you when you entered the ring with Ember?”

  “Off the record?”

  “Yes.”

  Grigori leaned down, appearing so much like his father I froze as he whispered against my ear, “That if I didn’t take the bastard down, he was going to do it himself.”

  I blinked in astonishment. It appeared the Mayor actually had a heart, even if I did not condone violence as the means to end a problem.

  Nothing else of interest happened at the ball, and I still did not know what the hell to do about the fact I would most certainly have items stolen if I went back to my room tonight. My plan was to rent another room at the resort, but I was being followed. I was certain he was one of Daniil’s bodyguards that normally hovered around him. The rental car establishment still had not called with a replacement yet, so I could not leave without causing attention with a taxi to find a room elsewhere.

  I was stuck until I figured out what the hell to do.

  I meandered for a while until I made it to the lobby. There was a bar in one corner, and a drink was sounding swell at this point. The place had internet access so I could download my shots and work on my article that was due to my editor. Glancing behind me as I entered, I saw my tail stop and lean against a wall. He was blatantly staring now, not trying to hide the fact that he was following me.

  Wonderful. When they stopped hiding, you knew you were done for.

  A drink was sounding better and better.

  He could not do anything to me in public, but I still needed to pick a spot that was not out in the open so I could write in peace. I was one of those people that needed absolute quiet to get the juices flowing. Same with reading a book. I just could not concentrate, and really be inventive, without solitude.

  I slipped into a booth and ordered a dry whiskey. If I planned to drink, I was going to do it right. After sliding my laptop from my duffle, I put the memory card of my camera into it and started sorting through the pictures. I had some truly wonderful images. I had worried the action shots would not be decent, but I was pleasantly surprised to see I had not lost my touch for timing.

  I nixed the pictures of Grigori kissing Zoya—with Ember in the background ready to kill them. That article was not anywhere near done. I would not publish a piece on mere hearsay. I wanted real evidence that she was stepping out on Brent and Cole, and that was only the beginning of the shots I hoped to acquire.

  I finally decided on two pictures, one where Grigori was setting her shoulder and the last shot of them staring down at the unconscious men. As I drained the double whiskey brought to me, ordering another, I started writing my article. It really was going to be a fluff piece, because the charity did need some recognition, but with the pictures of Ember and Grigori as the centerpiece, it would be read by all. I was just finishing my second double, and reviewing my work, when a visitor arrived at my table.

  Daniil sat down dir
ectly next to me.

  Sadly, I did not notice him for a few moments; I was so engrossed in my work. I sat my glass down, and was grabbing for a napkin when I bumped him. I squeaked embarrassingly.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, quickly hitting send on my email. My editor could finish proof reading the damn thing. I had sharks to deal with.

  Daniil rested back, placing his arms over the top of the booth and stretching out his long legs. He had not changed out of his black Armani suit from the ball. I still wore my dress, since I had not dared to go back to my room.

  “I’m sitting, Ms. Forter,” Daniil grinned gracefully. “Your article looked lovely.”

  I glared. The asshole had been reading over my shoulder. “I meant, why are you sitting with me? I didn’t invite you.”

  He lifted my glass and brought it to his nose, sniffing at the empty. His nose crinkled in disgust, and completely ignoring me, he stated, “While we chat, you and I are going to have a drink together.” He placed the glass back on the table, motioning for the server. “But not the shit you were drinking.”

  I bristled even further, and started packing up by belongings. “I don’t think so. To have a conversation that requires both people answering each other’s questions. You’ve ignored mine so far, and insulted me.” I scowled, struggling with the zipper on my duffle. “Besides, all you want to do is steal my equipment and scare me off any story I might write.”

  He nodded, not at all remorseful. “Yes. I do. And I will. But first, we will talk.” A blatant command. I tugged harder on my zipper. The server arrived and he ordered an entire bottle of some expensive vodka I could not even pronounce—with two shot glasses.

  Oh, the hell with that. I stopped struggling with my damn bag. I just needed to get out of here. But as soon as I started scooting around the booth’s half-moon cushion, I felt two large hands land on my hips in an unbreakable grip, sliding me back.

  I smacked at his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m sitting, Ms. Forter. We’ve already established this.” He parked my ass right where I had started, releasing me, and settled back against the cushion. “This will go a lot smoother if you just sit there like a good little girl and shut the fuck up.”

  I pointed at his face, past furious. “Look, old man. I’ve been intimidated and threatened by many people. It comes with the job. However, no one has ever gotten me to back off when I have a gut feeling. When I get these feelings, they always pan out. So whatever you’re going to say, just save it because it’s falling on deaf ears.”

  He swatted my finger away, his gaze just as furious as mine. “Little girl, you do realize who the fuck I am, don’t you?”

  I spewed, “A decrepit old man with a thug complex.”

  His jaw set. He stared, leaning forward, and slowly stated, “You are either very stupid or very brave to speak to me that way.”

  Probably both, I realized as his suit jacket opened a little, showing a gun underneath. I hated guns. Really, violence of any sort. I had actually thought twice about asking for this job when I had found out what the events were going to be.

  However, I wanted to take the Donovans down. Badly.

  The server sat a clear bottle of liquor down with two shot glasses.

  I swallowed hard and pointed to her. I was not going to pay for that. In addition, I wanted to…his hand snaked out and landed on my thigh, keeping me in place when I tried to sneak away as he paid her. Two hundred dollars. Maybe I should steal the bottle when I finally managed my escape.

  I scowled down at my lap, and started prying his pinkie finger up first from its death grip on my thigh. His ring finger. His middle. Then his pointer. I flicked his thumb last.

  Hearing him chuckle, I blinked up at his gaze. The sound was low and deep, and very much masculine, and honest. I asked, “Why are you laughing?”

  “Because you think you can get away.” His gaze roved over me, his nose crinkling in disgust like he had done with my whiskey glass – asshole. He shook his head. “You’ll only get hurt. Just sit, and drink with me.” It was my turn to shake my head, but he held up a hand. “I’ll make you a report’s deal. For every two shots we each take, we’ll each ask a question that has to be answered.” He glanced at me while opening the vodka. “Off the record, of course.”

  “You want information from me?” I pushed my glasses up. “I call bullshit.”

  “We aren’t playing Bullshit, Ms. Forter. We’ll be answering each other’s questions. Honestly.” He poured two shots.

  “I’ve already had two doubles. Take four to catch up.” If he wanted to play this game, so be it. I was a pro at ferreting out information. I would just have to be careful how I answered his questions. This really was a reporter’s dream deal. I was not too many years off my college days, and he was many from his. I was sure I could drink him under the table any day. I may be small, but I had been a freaking fish in college.

  He chuckled again, making me blink a little. It was…odd. “I really don’t believe you have a clue who I am, Ms. Forter.” He downed one shot. No wince. “But, I’ll do as you demand.” He took the other glass and downed the vodka. “This time.” He refilled the glasses, and easily took the third and fourth shots.

  I tried not to stare. He did not even cough. Shit.

  He started to refill the glasses, but I stopped him from pouring mine. “Wait.” I grabbed a napkin and started cleaning off the rim of my glass. Old man lips had touched it. I scrubbed it spotless, and sat it back on the table. “There. Filler up.”

  He blinked at where I held the napkin in my hand.

  Did I offend him? Poor baby.

  “Do you have a problem with germs?” he asked, seeming honestly confused.

  Like he was God’s gift to women. Idiot.

  I tossed the napkin on the table. “You haven’t taken two shots. I don’t have to answer.”

  He glared and filled my shot glass. “Then let’s begin.”

  I lifted mine for a toast.

  He bypassed it, draining his.

  Seriously an ass. I bristled, but still toasted against a ghost glass, and took the shot.

  Well…it was chilled. And it went down. That was about all that I could say in the vodka’s favor. It might as well have been fuel for a space ship.

  Oh. My. Shitface.

  As I coughed, and my eyes watered, he took my glass from me and refilled it. How very kind of him. Especially, because the fucker was chuckling again. I grabbed a new napkin and dabbed at my eyes under my glasses. This was going to be hell.

  Coughing from my second shot, I sat my own glass down as he gently placed his on the table, and I asked in disbelief, “And you called my whiskey shit?”

  His lips twitched. “Yes. And you just wasted a question, Ms. Forter.”

  “No!” I pointed at him, which he quickly swatted away with irritation. “I realize English isn’t your first language, but that was rhetorical.”

  “Not with the infliction you used. It was a question.”

  I ground my teeth together. Literal old asshole.

  “Fine.” Dammit, if he wasn’t right. I motioned for him to ask away.

  He watched me carefully. “Other than the charity event articles, what story are you literally working on?”

  I glanced away. I tapped my finger on the table, thinking, and then tried not to grin, stating slowly, “The only story I’m literally working on is the charity event. That’s all my editor has assigned.” Take that, literal old asshole.

  His teeth clenched, but he started pouring.

  After two more shots for each of us, I made sure to keep my mouth shut, other than when I had to cough. I was not going to waste my question this time.

  He asked immediately, “Other than the charity event articles, what story would you hope to gain at this event?”

  I sighed. I had known he would ask it again, but better stated. I only had one answer. The truth. “To catch Ember Lerrus stepping out on Brent Terr
ance and Cole Donovan.”

  Instantly. “Why?” His eyes were hard on mine.

  I turned toward him and shook my head, before resting it back on the booth. “Nope. Only one question.” I felt a little loose, but nowhere near tipsy. This was a good thing because he did not seem to be having any issues. “Now my question. Have Ember and Grigori ever been lovers?” The million-dollar question. “And we already established this is off the record.” I just wanted the truth at this point. That would help me understand if my gut feeling was wrong.

  He started twirling his glass on the table. “What do you believe constitutes as lovers?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Have they had sex?”

  He twirled the glass again before thumping it down and starting to pour. “I can honestly say I’ve never seen them have sex.”

  I snorted. Christ. This was going to take a shitload more shots.

  Ten more shots later, I was beginning to feel it. We were drinking them quickly, so the alcohol had not had time to fully hit, but I could tell he was even beginning to feel its effects.

  He slammed his glass down, and went nose to nose with me, slurring, “Why do you care if they’ve had sex?”

  I grinned. “I don’t honestly care if they’ve had sex.” Really, I did not. I just wanted to know if they had so I would know if I was following the right lead. I stated happily into his furious face, “My turn. Have you ever seen Ember kissing anyone besides Brent and Cole?”

  Instant. “Have you seen her kissing Brent and Cole?”

  I grinned. “Can’t answer that. Save it for your next question. Now answer, old man.”

  He growled.

  I laughed a little. He was kind of funny.

  He sounded a bit pissed. “Yes. I’ve seen her kiss someone besides Brent or Cole before their miraculous return.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head, and started pouring.