Stick up

One| watch your mouth

All eyes were on Arcelia, as usual.

Her dress clung to her body beautifully. Her spaghetti strapped dress hanging low in the front but still reserved her breast, the gown fell flawlessly to the ground; swimming around her ankles. A slit running all the way up to her hip with a six slits going across her upper thigh left little to the imagination. The lighting of the ballroom reflects just how precious the diamonds that embodied the gown were. Although she walked effortlessly- no one could tell just how heavy the dress actually was.

Her hair bounced as she made her way to the back of the ballroom, four men in matching white suits trailing behind her just enough to where they wouldn't step on her gown. The stoic expression on her face intimidated many, she was here strictly for business- but damn did she look good.

"Ah- Miss Barcelona, what a pleasure it is to have you here." The older man took her hand in his own, leaning down to kiss her hand. "Mr. Ibiza, welcome." He spoke as he noticed the young man standing directly behind his partner.

"Thank you for having us, Raphael." Barcelona smiled softly.

"Please," Raphael quickly gestured to the long mahogany table that was in the center of the room, several men were seated, some women standing behind some of the men's chairs. "Take a seat."

Barcelona made her way to the head of the table, right next to Raphaels chair. Ibiza pulled out her chair waiting for her to sit before he took his place next to her. The three men standing behind Barcelona, armed and prepared to fight.

"Miss Barcelona, I can assure you, you are safe in here, no need for such heavy artillery." He joked lightly, one hand waving to the three ak-47 while the other swished around his red wine.

"Hm, just- precautions, Raphael." She chuckles, nodding her head to a young boy who handed her her own glass of wine. "They don't shoot unless told."

"I see. Shall we- get down to business?" Raphael asked. He turned to the rest of the table gesturing at the ladies. "Ladies, if you would." His hand trailed to the doors, some security escorting them out.

"I just wanted to thank you for being a partner for almost three years, Miss Barcelona. One of my longest relations." He was nervous, you could tell by the beads of sweat slowly forming on his face. He knew why she was here on such short notice- he crossed her.

Raphael silently cursed himself dabbing a handkerchief to his forehead. Barcelona smirked as he squirmed. At only twenty five she was just as powerful as she was when she was sixteen, if not more.

Barcelona was highly respected. The greatest con artist to exist to date. She was brought into the game very early. Twelve to be exact- but that's for another time.

"Raphael, no need to butter my buns." She eyed him as she sipped her wine. "I think you know why I'm here." She spoke loud and clear. "I'm missing 2.3 million euros, Raphael. 2.3 million from your mission. Did you lose it?" She questioned.

"No."

"Did someone take it?" She tapped her glass.

"No."

"Did you steal it?" Her eyes were dark. His hands were sweaty.