Chapter Seven : Involvement
Corinne
The morning had been strained - the sex in the shower angry and filled with something that I couldn’t quite define. As if Dimitri had a right to be angry - annoyed, even, with me. And for the first time, the water beating down against us from the shower had done nothing to cool my rage - to temper the storm. If anything it seemed to kindle the flames of fury between us, and all I could do was widen my thighs further and take everything that Dimitri had to punish me with.
We had dressed in silence, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this solitude is what my mother escaped from daily. Filling her schedule with frivolous dinners and events, book clubs where books were hardly discussed, and luncheons that were more for appearances than the actual food.
I wore jeans, a black lacy camisole, and a blazer, and yet I looked far too under-dressed in comparison to Dimitri, who was already in a suit. I followed him out the house wordlessly, leaving the comfort of all the protection I had imbued on the brick and mortar here.
My amethyst hair clip was pinned firmly in my hair, my protection anklet in place, and still I felt naked. We slid into the backseat of the tinted sedan, and I had to wonder how many men Dimitri had at his beck and call - how many people were willing to lay down their lives for the man beside me.
I needed to consult my cards - had needed to for a while now, and I knew why I had been putting it off. What if the cards told me to leave? That Dimitri was more trouble than what he was worth? That he didn’t want me here.
The car came to halt on the outskirts of the French Quarter - the part of NOLA that was muddied in hues of browns and gray, true to the industrial nature of the area we were in. The fist that seemed to sporadically clench my chest tightly loosened its grip, and as I looked up, I could breathe.
“This isn’t the warehouse.” I stumbled over the words, almost half afraid that Dimitri was dropping me off elsewhere, but I had been expecting to come back to the warehouse - the one where Arlo had died - the one where everything happened that set so much in motion.
“This is our gun warehouse, the other one is for product.”
Dimitri slid out the car and marched towards the building before us as I was left to scramble after him. I managed to catch upi, keeping my pace only about two feet behind him.
“Pakhan.” A dark haired man greeted Dimitri as soon as he entered the building, but Dimitri simply raised his hand in greeting, either refusing or simply unable to formulate the words needed to respond.
His eyes darted towards me, and I saw the moment he realized what I was - who I was to the Bratva.
“V… Vedman,” he spluttered, half bowing, making the movement simply look ridiculous.
“Show Corinne everything she wants to see.” Dimitri threw his command over his shoulder as his feet connected with the steel staircase, taking him to the office that sat atop a steel mezzanine floor that overlooked the warehouse.
“Wh… what would you like to see?” His eyes seemed to bulge out as he spoke, raking in my appearance, and I hated that I caused this effect amongst Dimitri’s men - hated that neither of us knew how to act because I was the Witch, and Dimitri was the Bratva.
“What is your name?”
His eyes widened in surprise, and all I could notice was how very young he seemed. The whites of his pupils were bloodshot, the smudges beneath his eyes confirming that he was sleep deprived. Dammit Dimitri. Did he not see that his men were under strain? Or did he simply not care?
“Sven.”
I nodded as if this were the most natural conversation in the world as I stepped towards him.
“And when was the last time you actually slept, Sven?”
Panic flared across his face and I watched with interest as he shuffled his feet back and forth almost unconsciously. Magick was a lot of spell work and divination, but it was also the ability to read people. I had been in the home of countless housewives who asked me to read cards for them again because they wanted a specific answer - being able to read the actual person, simply observing their habits and mannerisms, often helped determine if I should give in to them or not - sometimes even more than my guides.
My guides could be fickle, presenting themselves only when they felt it necessary and offering me information that was only for my best interest. Which was great, really, but when dealing with Sue the housewife, I didn’t need a guide for my interest, I needed the best strategy to extract myself, give Sue the information she wanted, and keep the guild’s name intact.
Sven was already shaking his head. “I didn’t sleep on the job last night - I swear it. You and the Pakhan can even check the security cameras to confirm.” He swallowed audibly, his nerves a jangling, grating thing that made me want to recoil.
Why on earth had Dimitri kept this poor kid awake? Sven looked to be about the same age as Stepen.
“Of course.” I nodded as I forced a smile to my lips. “You just look tired.”
He slumped in visible relief.
“Is there a kitchen where I could make us some tea?”
“You want to make tea?” Sven sounded as dumbfounded as I felt, but even as I spoke the words, the smallest semblance of a plan began forming in my mind.
“Yes.” I nodded once, brusquely.