Post by Armand on Aug 24, 2020 1:22:52 GMT 1
Armand gazed out the window watching the reflection of the moonlight on the canals below. The meeting felt as if it would never end and though he himself had called it, he wanted nothing more than to leave this room and stalk his prey in the city below.
“Sir?” It was a woman’s voice.
“Hmm?” He lazily turned his chair back in the direction of the table and the three mortals sitting around it. He fixed his eyes on the black-haired beauty with the shiny leather Prada shoulder bag.
“Are you willing to go higher than asking price to secure the properties?” She raised one dark eyebrow at him. Her lips were full and red and her skin had a sun-kissed glow to it as if she had recently been on holiday in the south. He’d forgotten her name already, but that really didn’t matter at all and he hadn’t been listening when she said it. What mattered was the way she might taste as she struggled beneath the fangs that he so desperately wanted to sink into the gorgeous curve of her neck. He wondered if she would scream and pound her little firsts against him or if she would fall completely under his spell as so many others do.
“Sir?” Her tone was harsher now. She was becoming annoyed with him.
“Seventy-six point four million,” He announced with a grin. “That’s my final offer.”
The older, balding man in the cheap imitation Desmond Merrion suit coughed in surprise. Armand’s offer had been more than twenty million euros above the original asking price despite the fact that he had been negotiating with them for the better part of the evening.
“Sold” A younger man across the table from Armand stood and held out his hand.
None of them had met him before, but not a single one of them had questioned his youthful appearance. His face and body did not look a day past his seventeen mortal years, but his presence was so commanding and powerful that people rarely asked his age. And those who had, didn’t live long enough to regret it.
Armand stood and shook the hand that had been offered, suppressing a laugh as the man recoiled slightly at the feeling of his cold skin.
As he was about to sit back down to sign the necessary forms, there was a timid knock on the door to the conference room. It cracked open and a familiar head peeked inside.
“Boss,” It was almost a whisper. Gregory had been working for Armand for nearly a decade and knew that there were very few issues urgent enough to interrupt a meeting. This had better be good. “It’s Daniel.”
Without a word, Armand followed Gregory out of the conference room, closing the doors behind them.
The stairs took them to the fourth floor of the building where Armand entered the security code to a small room with windows facing the Grand Canal. When he flipped a switch on the wall, the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminated a control panel that would rival those used by NASA. There were several large screens; some displaying maps and aerial footage while another showed a satellite image zoomed in close enough to see inside the window of a house. Though the picture was unclear, Armand could recognize the figure anywhere.
It was Daniel Molloy and he appeared to be sniffing a hand of cards.
“We finally found him,” Gregory said proudly.
“Excellent,” Armand replied. “Where is he?”
“Wales.”
It was Armand’s turn to raise an eyebrow now. What in the hell was Daniel doing in Wales?