𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓐𝓼 𝓘𝓬𝓮 [𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊]

4

Roseanne wasn't happy. Things weren't going as she'd planned, but then, things seldom did. She hadn't counted on Jennie Kim, or Kim Jongin's talking to her as a puppy with a new squeaky toy. She could turn her into her benefit, as a welcome distraction, but she still didn't have to like it. Complication was a necessary evil, but she was a woman who got rid of complications. She should have arranged to get rid of Miss Kim before she ever arrived on the islands.

She seldom wasted time in hindsight. She would have expected a Gorgeous woman, a minor inconvenience, one she could dispose of quickly. And she was very pretty, in that sleek, well-cared-for way that tended to set her teeth on edge when he allowed herself the luxury of feeling. But there was more to her than that, though she was trying to hide it. She was smarter than she wanted people to know and angrier.

That anger was undeniably fascinating. Distracting. The women she knew hid their anger very well, channeling it into more devious endeavors. Jennie Kim didn't see to have found her outlet, and she could see it simmering beneath her calm brown eyes. Beautiful cat-like eyes that pierce through her soul. Her luscious pink lips.

And she was thinking far too much about her when she had a job to do. Chanyeol was safely ensconced in the galley, a job he was well trained for, both when it came to food and knives, and Bobby was busy in the bowels of the ship, making sure everything was set to go when they got the word. The other five had been chosen by Lee Chae-rin herself, and they were almost as efficient and professional as she was. They'd blended into their new jobs with effortless ease. Kai had no idea he was surrounded by members of the Committee.
    Then again, if she was as artless as she seemed to be, she'd have no idea what the Committee was. Few people did, but she didn't quite believe in Kai's cluelessness. The kind of power and money he controlled bought a lot of privileged information.

For some reason, she was getting impatient. Kai should have been a simple matter. A megalomaniac billionaire with a taste for the occult and a complicated plan to disrupt the flow of commerce and the financial stability of the world, all his own benefit.

The problem was, Kai, compartmentalized. He had people working on each branch of his plan, each branch of the Rule of Seven was self-contained, and it made discovering the details about each incipient disaster that much more difficult. One never led to another, and his army of minions seemed to have no idea that there were other armies working in concert on parallel disasters. Rosé had only been on-site for four months—a relatively short time compared with his last tenure as a personal assistant of Jong Chan-woo, a Sicilian arm dealer with a taste for sadism and young boys. Rosé had managed to keep him away from the children during the year she'd spent with him, at a price. She'd have to pay the same price anyway, and she hadn't thought twice about it. Even though in the end it had cost her her wife.
    At least she hadn't been required to perform more personal service for Kim Jongin. Rosé's well-honed asexual persona was an asset—it was up to the target to make what they wanted her, and Kai wanted to be someone to see to his every comfort. He could provide for his sexual needs.

Which brought her around Jennie Kim again. It would probably be better if she slept with Kai. If she were alone in the mate's cabin it would be harder to keep Bobby from cutting her throat. Though in the end, they might have no choice—it would be very dangerous to let her go back to her pampered life in New York and have to answer questions about the disappearance of Kim Jongin and his yacht. A casualty of war, Jun-hoe would have said. But Jun-hoe was gone, and Rosé had hoped the ruthlessness that was part and parcel of the Committee could be tempered by restraint.

But people who knew too much were always a problem. The drugs that had been developed were volatile; they would wipe out too much memory or too little. When the stakes were high enough one couldn't afford to take chances.
But maybe it wouldn't come to that. Maybe she could send her off the boat after all—she certainly seemed desperate to go. I wouldn't take long—If Kai's jet was out if commission she'd have to fly out on a commercial plane, and it would be easy enough to arrange a flight for the crack of dawn, necessitating that she spend the night on the island. She'd seen her, of course, but she wouldn't remember anything about her. It was one of her many dubious talents.
She was making things needlessly complicated, all for the sake of a spoiled little rich girl. She was here, and she could stay here. She'd deal with the ramifications of that later. She'd keep her alive if she could. If not, she'd make certain it was swift and merciful. After all, being born into privilege was no great crime. Only a moral misdemeanor.