Mysterious Love - T.H. (discontinued)

2.

"Ms. Sharpe, we have more files for you to look into."

"Right, thank you. Set it on my table, will ya?" I advised him, not looking up from my laptop screen, too invested in more work. "Oh, and by the way, go prepare Colby."

He understood right away, knowing what I meant by 'preparing' Colby. It was one of the many codes the mafia has, either using it when we're too lazy to explain or using it when people were around. In this case, I was too lazy to explain it and wanted him to just understand right away. He nodded his head and closed the door quietly and gently on his way out, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise. I could hear him taking a deep breath on the other side of the door but dismissed it, knowing it could be for numerous reasons, not just because of my orders.

I guess the preparing process was a bit much for me to ask for, yet I usually ordered them to do so. It was a hassle but my men were all willing to do it nonetheless. The prep process is usually a mild version of what I do to people. Though, today, I wasn't going to do anything rough on Colby. Yesterday was the last time he ate but he only ate once and that was it. Today, he hasn't had a single bite to eat at all. It's almost dinner time which makes it even more perfect for me. Elliott, my personal chef, was already cooking something up for me. She always had the best meals under her belt and I could smell it all the way from upstairs.

I sat up from my black office chair and smoothened out my black dress that I decided to wear today. It ended just above my knees and hugged my figure perfectly, accentuating my curves. I made my way downstairs to check up on Colby and if the preparation process was going smoothly and perfectly. I opened the doors and saw my men doing as I wanted them to do. I closed the door, locked it, then headed for the kitchen for my dinner.

"It's almost ready." Elliott said, obviously hearing my feet pad against the floor.

I took a deep breath in and out, smelling the savoury food. "Can't wait to eat it."

"In front of Colby, I'm assuming?"

I nodded as she caught on to my plan. She started putting a serving of the meal on a plate for me and eventually served it to me. I thanked her for the meal and insisted that she treat herself to her own cooking since there was a lot of food leftover— for more than one person too. She'd always make more than expected but I've never complained. It's a small habit of hers that wouldn't hurt to continue and keep.

I took the plate and walked into the chamber room, ready to sit there and just eat. The man who was currently preparing Colby had stopped as soon as I entered the room, knowing that that was the best thing to do. "Good work." I said, looking at his bruised face.

"You gonna give me some food now?" He genuinely seemed to be tired and wanting food. His throat sounded quite dry too.

I sat on the bed and a few men lifted the chair up to put it to face the bed but not too close. "I'm gonna give myself some food now." I smirked as I could tell that the aroma of the meal was getting to him. "Mmm, home made lasagne." I could hear his stomach growling, wanting to devour the meal that I was about to enjoy. I laughed as I took the first bite, knowing how awkward I sounded.

***

I picked up the file that was left on my desk from earlier and opened it up. A picture of a man was paper clipped on top of all the papers: a curly haired man with glasses who looked middle aged, smiling. I didn't recognize who that was at all. I don't think I've ever even met this guy either. I took the picture off of the files and set it aside after taking one last look at it, still trying to decipher who it could be.

I only read the blue highlighted parts of the file, not wanting to waste my time on reading all of the useless, dull text. His name, Dominic Woods, didn't ring a bell in my head, but the information was quite intriguing and useful. Apparently, he was the one who supplied Andrew Colby with drugs, all while knowing that I've been waiting to be paid back by him.