𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

40 | Consider Yourself Lucky Darling

I woke up to an empty house after our argument, Tom going to work before I had woken up. I then went to bed before he got home and the next morning, he came downstairs in the morning as I was in the kitchen.

We had been sleeping separately, not speaking to each other properly since our fight. I didn't look at him, I simply put the kettle on to heat water for tea and retrieved a mug from the cupboard. He just stood there half asleep, leaning on the kitchen island on his phone.

I poured water in the cup, putting a tea bag in and letting it steep in the water. Waiting for it, I turned around and faced Tom.

"Good morning," he said gently.

"Morning," I responded directly.

"Where's my cup? I have to leave soon," He whined, pouting like a small child.

That's fucking it.
I swear to fucking god I will hit him.

"Leave the kitchen right now," I said bluntly, seething with anger so much that he actually listened, apologising and going into the living room. I tipped out my cup into the sink, not even wanting tea anymore.

Moving back to the guest room, I stayed on my phone until I heard Tom's car and watched him leave down the driveway. You know what? I'm going to do this fucking business deal whether you like it or not. And when it goes 'smoothly' I'll be able to rub it in your fucking face that I know what the fuck I'm doing too.

Opening Tom's laptop that he left on the living room couch, I inputted his password which was the same as the Netflix password: Dutch96

His calendar was the only organised part of his life, every contact and address encrypted with passwords. Fuck. Is it Dutch96? Yes. Yes it is. Fucking idiot needs new passwords.

Tonight's meeting was at the penthouse of the Giovanni Casino at 8pm. Perfect, looks like my schedule is clear.

I wasted my time today watching television, doing face masks and pampering myself in preparation for tonight. I showered, flicked through my wardrobe a hundred times and picked out an outfit that said two things:

1) I will be taken seriously as a woman
2) I am a fucking goddess

Wearing a black blazer and tailored fitted pants to match, I wore a lace bodysuit underneath. It was revealing enough to look feminine, but enough to intimidate as an ensemble. Pairing the whole outfit with heels I went to the garage, looking at the selection of Tom's cars and deciding on the BMW to drive.

These potential business partners wouldn't see me in the car whatsoever, but the drive there made me feel like the most powerful version of myself I could be. Luckily, my makeup covered majority of the bruises, although the split across my cheekbone was still prevalent.

Opening the door to the penthouse, I walked into the suite looking at the three men on the couch.

"Who the fuck are you? I don't remember ordering a fucking escort," One of them said standing up, reaching for the gun in his belt and glaring at me.

"Calm down sunshine, I'm the fucking godmother so I suggest you shut your mouth," I scoffed, walking into the room confidently.

He retreated, moving his hand back to his side to walk towards me, introducing himself as 'Lucky' and his two lackeys as 'Carlos' and 'Jizz'.

"Your name is Jizz? Like... Cum?" I squinted, looking towards him as he stared blankly back at me.

"It's a nickname," Lucky clarified.

"Yeah I figured that much," I snarked. These men didn't like to joke around. Jesus, how do you not expect me to take someone seriously when they're name means ejaculate?

The three men moved to the dining room table, sliding a briefcase across the table like a fucking 50's movie. I honestly had to focus on not laughing, this shot seemed so stereotypical to me.

"We made samples for you. Ones real, ones fake, you try spot the difference. We know our shit, we can get anyone anywhere... Best in the biz," Lucky said owning it.

Inside I pulled out multiple fake passports, credit cards and birth certificates. Running my fingers along the paper, I inspected them closely, looking up at the three men staring deeply into my fucking soul.

The door behind us opened, Tom walking through apologising for being late as he made eye contact with the three men in front of me who all proceeded to pull out guns at both me and Tom.

"Woah, fellas! What's going on here huh?" Tom said, Lucky telling me to stand up and move to stand next to Tom. I did as he said, Tom looking at me in shock, then disapproval.

"Why are you here?" He muttered me to me.

"Proving a point," I muttered back.

"Oh yeah? And how's that going for you?" He scoffed.

"Fine until you got here," I huffed.

"Shut the fuck up! You trying to set us up Holland? Cos I don't fuck with people I can't trust man. We got the best shit around and we don't do business with snakes," Lucky said pointing his gun at Tom alongside Carlos, whilst 'Jizz' pointed his gun at me.

"This is my woman, calm down boys. She's fine, I'm fine, we are all chill here," Tom said smoothly.

Lucky told his boys to lower their guns, moving closer towards us and staring down Tom. Tom acted so calmly around him, I don't know how he did it.

"You pull something like this again, and it won't end well," Lucky said deeply.

"You threatening a Godfather? That sounds like a good idea," Tom laughed, before getting hit in the face by Lucky's gun. His head, snapped to the side, slowly turned to stare back at Lucky. He barely even winced when he got hit.

"We got a deal?" Tom smiled menacingly, his lip bleeding from the metal gun barrel hitting him.

"Deal," Lucky smiled, clicking his fingers and leaving the room with his lackeys.

The door slammed behind us and I turned to Tom. He craned his head around to look at me, furiously.

"I could've done this by myself you know," I said.

"What the fuck went through your head to go behind my back like this? Do you want to get yourself killed? I would've liked to do this deal without getting a face full of metal but hey, that's how business fucking goes when you pull a stunt like this. Consider yourself fucking lucky they didn't tie you up and sexually assault you, because I've seen shit like that happen before to women caught in the crossfire of a business deal gone wrong. Or cop a bullet to the brain," Tom spat, leaving me in the penthouse alone.

Alone, again.