Duplicity [h.s]

100

April 15th, 2020
9 months later.

Aven Brooks

New York can be known for very high-class events.

Banquets, company dinners, business networks, celebrations—there is always something happening in New York. And if there's one of these high-profile events involving a lot of money, I'm probably there one way or another.

Malikai is a very respected man in this world of important people. So when something is happening, he or at least someone from our family is there. Once in a while, we all are. I guess it's considered quality family time when the three of us attend an event. The thing is, we never get to relax. Malikai is always...networking. Meaning we're always networking. Because at the end of the day, we don't go to these events just to relax and enjoy some champagne—we're here for business.

Like I said, sometimes I go alone to these events. But not always as Mariana; the daughter of Malikai. Sometimes I show us as an Emma, or Daniella, or even a Sydney. Sometimes I wear a dress, sometimes I'm dressed as a waiter. The point is, I'm never here to relax and enjoy the company of rich snobby grown men, I'm here with a task.

Like tonight.

Malikai is here, but I haven't seen him once. He's lurking in the shadows for sure, he'll turn up at the end when I have the valuable he advised me to get. I rather do this when he isn't here, but sometimes he just likes to keep an eye on me. I guess it's a father thing?

"I see him..." Eliot, my partner, whispers in his seat next to me at the table.

Sipping my champagne, I glance my eyes unnoticeably to where he is looking. Across the banquet in direction of the large marble bar, I see who he spotted.

Our target tonight.

"That's him, right?" Eliot whispers in confirmation.

Standing casually at the bar, our subject holds a crystal glass of dark liquor in his hand. An open light grey suit with a half-unbuttoned white shirt underneath hugs his body. Unbuttoned enough to see the mirage of tattoos littering his chest and escaping up his neck. He brings the glass to his lips, sipping lightly like he has all the time in the world. More tattoos scatter the tops of his hands as he holds the expensive glass of whiskey.

"That's him," I nod, staying seated at our table.

I turn my eyes to Eliot who sits there staring at who we've been searching for all night.

"You ready?" I ask.

His blue eyes turn to me, a stray blond hair hanging in his eyes so he pushes it back. Dressed in a formal black suit, he seems on edge. I met this guy two weeks ago and just by his body language I have a feeling he doesn't do this often.

"Me? I have the easy part. You're the one that has to go up and steal from him." He chuckles, playing off his nerves.

"You look nervous." I shrug, sipping my champagne through my red lipstick. I, myself, am as relaxed as I could be given how often I do this.

"Please," he rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Go do what you need to do, honey. I'll be waiting."

I hate being called honey.

Especially by men who think they have a right to call me some sort of submissive pet name. They call me honey because they think they're superior to me just because I'm a woman.

I roll my eyes without Eliot seeing, finish my drink before standing up. Men always think they're superior no matter the situation. It's very interesting. Eliot is obviously shitting bricks but is still trying to act like he has more control than me.