The Assassin's Folly

Zarah practically ran back to her apartment, her cheeks flushed. She fumbled with her keys and burst in, startling Dimitri awake.

“I can’t do it,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

“Why not?” he asked.

“He’s too handsome,” she groaned and put her coat on the stand by the door. She fell onto the couch. “You wouldn’t believe he’s the heir to so much money. He was eating in the food court of all places. He even walked to the mall, can you believe it?”

“What did you learn?” She didn’t answer. “You didn’t talk to him, did you?”

“Damn Damien called me just before I could,” she said. “Already checking up on me; can you believe it!?”

“Well, you are pretty pissed off with him,” Dimitri said, curling up next to her head. “I’d keep an eye on you, too. When do you plan on seeing him again?”

“His company lends money to restaurants,” she answered. “I think I’ll go in posed as a potential client and go from there. Can’t you just see it? Zarah’s Blood Bar!” She spread her hands out in front of her and they both laughed. “I’ll go in on Monday. When I walked by him, I knew I made an impression.”

Dimitri yawned and settled his head on his paws. “That’s what natural beauty will do for you.”

-Monday-

Zarah fixed her hair and checked her makeup before getting out of her car. She was incredibly nervous. Usually she was quick about it but Damien liked the idea of her getting close to him so much that he made it an order instead of a suggestion. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, though, and knew she’d really have to charm him as much as she could.

She got out and grabbed her mock brief case. It had snowed last night and there was a bitter cold wind that morning. She ran her tongue over her front teeth to make sure all was in order, then walked up to the large revolving door.

The lobby was busy with employees putting up last minute decorations. A large Christmas tree was in the far corner, decorated nicely with fake presents underneath. She checked her watch. She was a little early for her appointment so she wandered over to the reading material they offered on the company.

It was mostly boring facts and figures, nothing she was too concerned about. But her eyes fell on a flyer on the front desk and she read it discreetly.

Company Christmas Party! December 24th 8:00 pm to midnight Get ready for a fun evening with Secret Santa, games, and a final farewell to Mr. Adams! Admission is $20. You may bring one guest.

She made a mental note of the day and time. That would be as good of an opportunity as any to stage his death: a little slip of poison in his egg nog and, boom, mission done.

“Miss Williams?” a voice rang out and she turned. A secretary was standing with a clipboard. “Mr. Adams will see you now.”

Zarah hitched a winning smile on her face and followed the secretary through a door and into an elevator.

“What will your restaurant be selling?” the secretary asked.

“Mostly Italian food,” she answered. “Definitely going to have a bar, though.”

The secretary nodded knowingly. “Bars are high profit areas nowadays.”

“Indeed they are.”

They reached the 10th floor and they walked down a long carpeted hallway to a door at the end. The secretary knocked lightly.

“Mr. Adams? Your 8:30 is here.”

“Thank you, Marian.”

The secretary smiled at Zarah before leaving. Both father and son were behind the desk and the father stood with his hand extended.

“Good morning,” he said with a large smile. “This is my son, Jareth, he’ll be working with you after today.”

She shook hands with Jareth, whose eyes were a little wide with surprise.

“So, tell us about this restaurant of yours.”

“It’s a fairly simple idea,” Zarah began and flicked her hair out of her face. “I come from an Italian family; I moved here from Sicily ten years ago with my grandmother, God rest her soul. All of my recipes are from her, of course. And I’ve been to quite a few restaurants here and it seems like bars are the best way to get some revenue.”

Mr. Adams smiled. “It sounds like you have it all planned out. Normally our clients come a little scatter brained.” He checked her resume. “So, you’re 23 with some wonderful references. Mr. Damien Thomas said you were a very good asset and would like to see you succeed.”

Zarah tried to keep her smile the same. I’m sure he did.

“Now, normally the first step would be helping you map out the concept but it seems like you have-”

He suddenly went into a coughing fit and pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket. Jareth rushed to the water jug and filled a small cup with water. When Mr. Adams pulled the handkerchief away, Zarah saw spots of blood. Jareth saw it, too, even though Mr. Adams tried to hide it.

“You need to go rest, Father,” he said firmly and Mr. Adams looked between the two of them. “Don’t worry. I can take it from here.”

“You really should go lie down, if that’s ok to say,” Zarah pitched in and Mr. Adams sighed.

“Very well.” He stood with a small groan. “Miss Williams, it was wonderful to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she said and shook his hand.

“Excuse me,” Jareth said and led his father out of the room.

Zarah quickly fluffed her hair and, cringing as she did so, adjusted her button up shirt so that it flashed a little more skin. About three minutes later, Jareth returned.

“Is your father all right?” Zarah asked as Jareth took the seat behind the desk.

“Yes, thank you,” Jareth answered and she was pleased to see his eyes linger at her chest a second longer than normal. He cleared his throat. “I like the concept behind your restaurant and I agree: bars are very beneficial if you need quick revenue. I do have some forms I need you to fill out before we go any further.”

Suddenly, the power went out and he groaned. Zarah looked outside. She hadn’t even realized it was now sleeting outside.

“Typical Oklahoma,” she said and shuddered visibly.

“Are you cold?” he asked. There was barely enough light to see by but she saw him reaching for his coat.

“I’m sure if I walk around a bit I’ll warm up,” she said, waving her hand. She walked over to the window and rubbed her arms. She wasn’t really cold. She hadn’t been truly cold in 30 years. “Winter in Oklahoma is so unpredictable. Oh dear; you really had the heater going.”

She felt his jacket land lightly on her shoulders and repressed a smirk.

“My father gets cold easily,” he explained, standing beside her and frowning at the street below.

A sudden pang of pity went through her heart. “I’m sorry. I did read that he’s rather ill.”

“Thank you,” he said and smiled at her. “Say, I’d like to learn more about you. How about we get coffee on Wednesday? It’s my day off.”

Zarah smiled at him flirtatiously. “Are you always so interested in your clients?”

He laughed. “I’ve never had one as beautiful as you.”

“Well thank you,” she said and the power flickered back on. “I’m always up for some good coffee.”