Elodie Hart;
"Tasting her is like heaven. But Harlow isn't heaven. Nor is she hell; Harlow is the f*cking devil herself, with her sharp intimidation and her cruel way of things, but she tastes nothing like it. She tastes of sweetness and determinati...
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It's been over twenty four hours, and I still don't know whether Luciano was killed in my attempted attack on him, or not. The grenade launched, I heard it go off, and loud. Luciano couldn't get out of that. If he did, the sly bastard won't be getting out of the next things I have in mind for him.
It's pissing me off that I haven't found that out yet. And if I don't find it out fast, I might just kill the next person in my fucking way.
I've placed a bunch of my men and woman onto the task of finding out if Luciano is active anywhere. Whether he's sent emails, given signs, been seen anywhere, anything that could signal he didn't get killed.
While that's being covered, the walk to my office is short and quick paced. I reach it, pressing the code onto the device beside the door, letting it click open. I strut to my desk and take a seat. I take my keys out of my holster, picking out the right one. It inserts into the keyhole of my top draw, clicking open.
Out of it I pull my secured laptop case, placing it on my desk, then using another key to open that. A code on the little panel alongside with the key.
Once it opens, I take my laptop out, closing the case and putting it away.
I keep it locked away for several reasons. Which must be clear already. I log in and all, then start with my own way to find out about the outcome of the attack.
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The girls knew all about what Hugo did soon enough, and as soon as I told them, or well I was forced to by Sam, it was like they turned into the humongous three headed dog and brought out the real danger in them. Even I was scared.
"He was drunk too, but-"
Elena cuts me off before I can utter another word, "Elodie don't make me find him myself, him being drunk wasn't an excuse. He's just a pervert and a predator and I would really love to strangle him right now." She tells me, moving the wooden spoon along the pan she's frying her onions on. She's practically stabbing the onions as she goes.
"I can't believe this, we're never going out again." She tells me, glancing at me cutting up some vegetables beside her.
"Well, what about New Year's? You won't want to celebrate that?" I ask her, tilting my head and looking her way.
