Classy Killer

@volkovcatarina​

Celine tends to enable Catarina to do morally questionable things. She’s the fun aunt of the Bratva, and has often gone into detail about incapacitating people for her benefit.

There’s occasional tension between Celine and Catarina, mostly because Celine has a tendency to do as she pleases and doesn’t always seem to listen to authority. However, the assassin always gets the job done, even if it may be done excessively.

Celine occasionally brings Catarina out shopping with her in other neighbourhoods, when the mood strikes her just right, or when it seems as though the Sovietnik is taking things too seriously.

“Darling, you’ve just described my dream date. Why don’t you step out behind that little grey face and help me bring that delightful little fantasy to life? We can get crepes after.“

There was a very strong likelihood he would catch Celine unawares; after being gone from the city for so long, he could only imagine what his favorite working partner had gotten up to in her spare time. Celine was a bit of a loose cannon, in the sense that even Ronan had difficulty predicting what the Bratva’s spider was going to do next (and to who), but that merely made her interesting company. So when Celine threw the door open, surprised (but seemingly pleased) to find him awaiting on her doorstep, Ronan found himself answering her wolfish grin with one of his own. He followed her into her luxurious living space, lifting the tupperware and preserves he’d brought with them. Moving towards the kitchen counter, he set the goods down, working on popping the lid of the tub he’d brought with him.

“Emmaline and I took the liberty of preparing you some crepes; I figured we could just go ahead and assemble them here–I haven’t forgotten your weakness for them, after all,” Ronan teased, opening the container for the both of them. “Would you mind getting us both plates, мой дорогой друг? I’ve brought along some preserves for us, and Emmaline tucked away some powdered sugar into the container. I would have told you  sooner that we were arriving, if I could, but…I didn’t feel it was safe.” He turned to face her, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest.

“I’ve been…a mess of anger. Relief. Exhaustion. I am…sorry I wasn’t here. For Tatiana. It’s a weight I’ll never let go of, knowing I wasn’t there to help you when you might have needed my assistance the most.”

When it came to getting on Celine’s good side, regardless of what sort of mood she was in, crepes were almost universally the best way to do it. She could already feel her mouth watering at the delectable treat, gliding over to the cupboards to fetch a few plates for serving. “I’d say you didn’t have to, but darling I’m sure glad you did. Haven’t had these in ages!“ How long had it been since she had homemade food? Quite some time, if she wasn’t counting Baba’s. She set the plates down before them, chuckling. “My, you’ll need to pass my thanks along to dear Emmaline. I’d love to welcome her here, but I suppose she could do without the scare for now, don’t you agree?” She said it in good faith, though it was no secret that the assassin was a bit too intense for many of the softer residents in Little Odessa. There was no need to frighten the poor thing into labour just because she had a small slip of the tongue.

The assassin looked up at him as he apologized, pursing her lips. “Ronan, I’d hardly call your actions worth an apology. You did what you needed to, which is even more important now that you’ve got a kid on the way. Family complicates these sort of things. It seems to be a running theme with the Bratva as of late.” While she had been concerned for the pair, given the complicated reasons behind their flight from the city, Celine had understood why it had been done. “Realistically, it’s best to keep communications to the face-to-face. We still need to catch that particular little bug, after all. I was hoping to find them as a baby shower present, but I might have to go with a onesie instead at this rate.” 

Celine waved a hand, hoping to at lease assauge some of her friend’s concerns. “Besides, those Irishmen didn’t know what hit them. Your presence would have simply spoiled my fun.” A somber expression fell on her face as she thought more about the rescue, thoughtful and almost sad. “...She’s not the same you know, from when you last saw her. But it may do her some good now that her dyadya volk is back home. The Valentinas...well, you’ll see for yourself soon enough. What matters is that you’re here now.” 

After all the excitement of the Golightly Gala, Celine had realized that she was in desperate need of a few new toys to bolster her modestly-sized arsenal. The gunfight she had gotten into had not only depleted her of bullets, but she had lost her favourite Star Firestar M43 in the process. She had loved that gun too, had it for years when she was new to the mafia life. Its loss was felt keenly, and the only way to fill the pistol-shaped void in her heart was to naturally buy something shinier.

And she knew just the gentleman to help her out. Sevastyan Vasyutin had been a fixture in the Bratva for almost as long as herself. If there was any arms dealer who was certain to have a gleaming, new plaything for her to use, it was the biggest tool she knew. 

Celine found him in the High Tides Lounge; the natural breeding place of all the bloodthirsty beasts who went bump in the night on the streets of New York City. Naturally, Sevastyan would be in the center of it all, making a killing of its own kind off of all the Bratva’s many fixers and contractors. But unlike the small fry, Celine was someone who mattered. And so they scattered, fleeing as she approached her target. “Sev, darling. I find myself in desperate need of your ample services. Would you be a dear and let me know what you have in stock?”

Everyone looked positively deathly when Celine finally sauntered her way into the Oceana Residences, a piping hot caramel macchiato in hand as she made her way up to the Valentina complex. It was almost comical, to see how many of the highest-ranking officers within the Bratva were all crammed into the same flat, making the expansive space seem small due to the sheer number of people present. She chuckled at the sight, wondering how much the NYPD would have flipped their lids at the chance to round up all of her sweet cubs in one go. But for now, she let most of them rest, knowing they must have worn themselves out the night before.

They partied themselves half to death, poor things.

The assassin stepped over a few prone bodies, moaning and groaning about in her search for Viktor. However, it seemed as though the pakhan had already disappeared from his flat, likely making a rush order for brunch over at Baba’s. “Hm...pity.“ Celine sighed, supposing that her news could wait for now.

She leaned against the kitchen island, sipping her caffinated nectar of the gods when she heard the door click open. As she saw a flash of blonde and a figure she knew all too well, Celine smiled smugly. Dear Ivanna, her colleague. Wouldn’t she like to know what her evening was like. “Hello gorgeous, have a fun time at the party last night? I heard it was a blast.”

“Oh my boss invited me, but to be honest I haven’t seen them at all this evening. I think they’re friends with the guy who put this party on.” Bohai knew that it probably wasn’t a good idea to announce that he was a part of the Triad. He wasn’t even sure why he was invited, only that he might be needed by the Dragon Head at some point in the party. 

“I swear you look like a girl I knew in high school. but I went to like three different ones so I can’t remember which one.” 

“Hm, is that so?“ Celine was curious about who precisely this boss-figure was, but she supposed that if he had outright told her, there would have been no fun in guessing. “Then it’s a loose association then, dear? My boss is the same. A fan of the open bar, but you don’t hear me complaining about that, love.” She winked at him playfully, her demeanor falling into a false sense of relaxation. “My, it seems as though you’ve gotten around quite a bit when you were young. Were your parents the sort to move around a lot then?”

Among the festivities and the scandals in the making, far beneath the Golightly gala, Celine was shadowing a guard. Sharp ears had caught wind of the Pink Star Diamond as she was chatting him up, and his abrupt departure had given her an excellent chance to trail after him, her soft footfalls drowned out by the loud music and constant steam of chatter. The diamond was in the basement, and talks were underway about bringing it back up at the pinnacle of the party as a present for Bunny Golightly. It was perfect timing.

She kept close to the walls, pausing as her target slipped into a non-descript room in the basement of The Garden Hotel. Celine watched them speak to another man in uniform briefly, but she was too far away to hear well. The Pink Star Diamond would belong to the Russians tonight, if she had any say in it. She watched as other security personnel entered and left the room, counting six in total before she made her move. Opening her clutch, she took out a small needle, filled to the brim with a powerful toxin that would have easily taken out twenty men. She palmed the weapon before turning the corner, a vacant, dazed look on her face. “Oh my gosh, did I like, make a wrong turn… H-hey mister!” She waved at him, leaning against the wall for balance as she hiccuped. “D’you know where room 145 is? I was gonna…supposed to meet someone…” Celine slumped, dress crumpling as the deep vee revealed just a touch of extra tantalizing skin.

Celine heard him approach, her head lolling as she giggled to herself. “Hey, you know. You know you have just the most handsome face mister. Why don’t you come a little closer?” She smiled as he walked over to him, her arms reaching out for him as he knelt down to speak with her. “I gotta secret for you…” She leaned towards him, all vapid smiles and sugar-coated sweetness. “You’re a fucking moron.”

“Hey, you’re not-” The assassin didn’t think, launching into action like a viper. Her hand clamped down on the guard’s mouth, muffling his cries as the other sank the needle into his neck. Celine could feel his screams as he clawed at her, echoing in the hallway. But his resistance faltered and his movements became sluggish in a matter of moments. She could hear his radio going off, his colleagues asking him just what was going on outside. As soon as she let him go, he fell to the floor in an unconscious lump.

“Oops.“ Celine murmured, the needle disappearing back into her clutch as the guard convulsed before her, finally growing still after a few agonizing minutes. She propped him up so it looked a little less like a corpse and more like a man who had a little too much to drink, though the foaming at the mouth would likely give it away. She patted him down, taking his pistol and his identification in case there were tougher security measures further in. Given that she had already made it this far, it seemed a waste not to go for the diamond itself. Besides, once someone spotted the body in the hall, her timer would be running perilously quick. It was now or never. Might as well make the most of it.

She directed the gun to the corpse and shot, eliciting cries of alarm from both the hotel staff and the guards in the room.

But as she waited by the door, gun in hand and ready to take out the first security personnel to charge though, she spotted another figure making their way down the hall. It sure as hell wasn’t any guard, but another scavenger who had caught onto the scent of the diamond. Celine smiled at him, heart thundering with the excitement that came from a fresh kill, and many more to come. “So sorry dear, but this prize belongs to the Bratva. As dashing as you are, I don’t feel like sharing tonight.” The karakurt took in the sight of the stranger, mischief on her mind. After all, this was an opportunity. “…But I suppose we could race for it, if you’re good enough to keep up, that is.“

( @wvrlcrd )

@celinedahl

Bohai was having a great time. So far his services hadn’t been required so he was free to enjoy the party with everyone else. He stayed away from the drinks, just in case he was needed later in the night, and instead set his sights on the food. When he was sure he had eaten more than his full he turned to the dance floor. He was very proud of how many numbers he had gotten from people. He was about to name this suit, his lucky suit. He thought he saw a familiar person walk by him. He turned to follow her. She didn’t seem to notice him. He tapped her on the shoulder.  “Hey it’s been a long time- Oh” he realized she wasn’t who he thought she was. “Sorry I thought you were a friend I went to school with.” 

So far, nothing out of the ordinary had caught Celine’s eye as she patrolled the Golightly gala, sipping at champagne and making the less experienced mafia members scatter like mice for the fun of it. It was a delight, messing with those who knew of her, watching them grow pale and flee with some half-baked excuse. Knowing she had such influence over those in her line of work was nearly worth attending the dull event in the first place. 

A hand reached for her shoulder, causing the assassin to pause, turning to look at whoever had stopped her. “No need to apologize, darling. I certainly don’t mind being stopped by a handsome stranger.“ Celine teased, a quiet chuckle escaping her as she looked up at him. This didn’t seem to be someone within her respective line of work, but it didn’t mean he was harmless either. “Besides, I may not be your classmate, but perhaps you’ve recognized me from somewhere else.” She examined him more closely, scrutinizing him. “Who are you with this evening? I’m afraid I can’t quite recall meeting you before, and I’ve a knack for faces ”

Sophia had never attended an event like this on her own before. Usually, she was on the arm of whichever man had decided to claim her for the evening; without complaint, she would allow herself to be escorted by as many businessmen, arms dealers, or modern-day royals as was requested of her, and she always ensured that they had a good time both during and after the party or gala had come to an end, if only so that she didn’t have to go home alone. However, for this evening in particular, a part of her had been hoping - longing, even - that Raymond would invite her after she had seen the invitation sitting on his nightstand. They so very rarely went out together; they might have been a ‘couple’, as unofficial as it was, but Sophia couldn’t recall an instance in which he had ever taken her out on a date before. But that was…okay, wasn’t it? She didn’t need to be spoiled or treated like a princess; he was there for her more than Adonis ever was, after all, and she had plenty of clients both in and out of the burlesque club to keep her company when he wasn’t around. So it was - fine. Everything was just fine. 

She was halfway towards the open bar with the hope of fetching for herself a glass of wine when she realized that someone was trailing after her, and her sea-glass eyes widened in surprise as she felt a cool and familiar touch to the back of one of her delicate shoulders that her glimmering gold dress left bare. Then, there was that voice, as smooth and as rich as the finest China silk and every bit as tantalizing when whispered in her ear or across her skin so many moons ago. Instantly, Sophia felt herself growing still, and a tremor of recognition worked its way through her lush and elegant frame as she tentatively turned around to bring herself face to face with a woman she hadn’t been able to see in what felt like honest to god years: Celine Dahl.

Everything about her, from the plunging neckline of her deep obsidian dress to her long and graceful black widow limbs, brought Sophia back to the endless nights and days they had spent rolling around in bed together, long before the tensions between the Irish and the Russian mobs had become so thick that one wouldn’t have been able to cut through them even with the sharpest of blades. She might have belonged to the Irish, to Alexander, but no amount of loyalty could have dulled what she felt for Celine - not when the time that she had spent with her was the healthiest and most fulfilling relationship that she had ever experienced in all of her twenty-two years. The rosy swell of her bottom lip quivered as Celine asked if she had missed her - somehow, when she was lonelier than ever, the blonde huntress was standing before her, and she seemed to have eyes for Sophia and Sophia only. 

“To say that I merely missed you would be a disservice of my own heart, maîtresse,” she said shakily, breathlessly, each word halted by the way her pulse raced and fluttered beneath the delicate hollow of her throat. “Non, I - there are no words powerful enough to describe what it is that I felt during your absence, nor are there any I can bring to mind to explain how I feel as I look at you now. Mademoiselle Dahl…” Her voice was soft and filled to the brim with longing as she looked up at the elder woman from beneath the lengths of her long, dark, and fluttering lashes, her doe eyes shining with unbridled, vulnerable adoration, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up with a graceful hand to tuck a wisp of curled blonde hair back behind Celine’s ear, her touch as worshipful as it had always been. “It is so good to see you again. S’il vous plait - I worried endlessly about your safety, your whereabouts, if you were alright…if you were safe, all things considered, and if you had found another un chat minou to warm your bed at night.”

Celine had spent her whole life using her body as a weapon, at first to lure unlucky lovers out of their wealth until moving up to stealing their lives. Things like love and relationships and intimacy were for those who didn’t know better, who thought that there was such a thing as romance without a price. Sex was her finest weapon; an essential part of her job, and on the odd occasion, it was something she even enjoyed, if only for the brief moments before she smothered the life out of them at a slow, agonizing pace. The assassin was a ‘no strings attached’ sort of spider, and she took its meaning to heart.

Sophia, however...Sophia had been someone she had enjoyed. Cherished even, as much as Celine had ever allowed herself to do such a thing. What had started off as a relationship of convenience, born from boredom and an excessive amount of cash from a lucrative job, had become something deeper before she realized it. Feelings, ones she hadn’t thought she would encounter, entered into the equation, making everything between them both messy and exhilerating at the same time.

But Nikolai Valentina had been killed, and Tatiana, their princess, had been stolen away right under their noses. Whatever chances they might have had, as slim as they were to begin with, had burned away the moment Celine had barged into the Little Dublin Residences, guns blazing and hellbent on bringing her dear niece home where she belonged. She had made her choice that night, between Sophia and Tatiana. It wasn’t something she regretted, but it did hurt. Profoundly.

To see her again, well, she hadn’t quite been prepared for it.

She was just as beautiful as she remembered, glowing and radiant in a dress that likely cost her client thousands to procure. What Celine wouldn’t give to steal her away to one of the hotel’s many rooms, breathing secrets into her warm, sun-kissed skin. To hear her small, breathy gasps of pleasure as she tasted her sweet, wanton mouth before having her wicked way with Sophia’s sinfully delicious body. But that...that was out of the question now. “Poetic as ever, darling. Oh, I did miss you something terrible.“ There was a softness to Celine’s tone, the sort of vulnerability that she was unused to. She leaned into Sophia’s light touch, longing pulling at her heartstrings. “A bed like mine is never empty for long, ma douce amante, but it is never quite the same without you in it. You always were my favourite.” The French term felt clumsy on her tongue, ill-fitting after months of disuse, but it felt right in its own way. “I’ve wondered...what happened after I left. You’re being looked after, yes? Alex is treating you well?”

The Golightly gala had brought out the best and the worst of New York City and had thrown them all into the same room together. Celine had been watching them all at they mingled with one another, taking note of all those who had arrived. The Shadow Mob, the Cartel and the Triad were all there, as were the Corsicans with their Parisian wear and smug grins. But she was most interested in the Irish and Italians above all else, for if they didn’t know her already, they sure as hell knew her work. She had been sure to make her displays excessively artistic for their kind treatment of the Valentina family.

Another group of Irish mafia members passed near her, a few recognizing Celine for who she really was. The blonde could see it from the way they tensed, wary and wondering if she would be bold enough to break The Garden Hotel’s rules just to have the pleasure of ripping their throats out. She was all sharp-toothed grins and hardened edges, daring them to challenge her as they passed, itching for a reason to act on her morbid fantasies. 

But as they turned and cowered away, disappointing her as many men did, Celine caught sight of pink gossamer fabric and honey blonde hair tumbling downwards, and her bloodlust dissipated.

She was there. Sophia. Celine’s heart ached at the sight of her.

How long had it been since they had last seen each other? Before the Irish and the Russians became such stalwart enemies? When had the French courtesan last floated into her home, where they would spend the night lost in one another until the sun broke into the horizon in the morning? It had felt far longer than only a year or so, no, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Against her better judgement, the assassin trailed after Sophia, making her way effortlessly through the crowd towards her. She waited until the last of the Irish mafia members had scattered before approaching, feeling something akin to excited nervousness beneath her skin as she brought at hand to the courtesan’s shoulder. “So sorry love, but you seem to resemble someone I haven’t seen in some time. I was hoping she’d be available to chat.” Celine teased, her expression softening with unhindered affection for the young woman. “Hello Sophia. Did you miss me?”

TDR Event #1 - A Star is Born - Celine’s Outfit

@celinedahl // who ya gonna call? i guess it’s this nerdy guy bc ghostbusters forwarded me

It wasn’t so often that he was called upon by the Bratva. Most of the time, Peter was allowed to live his life normally. Visiting his mom on weekends when he could sneak away and leaving small bits of cash tucked away in her coat pockets so that she could think she had a stroke of luck or that she simply misplaced her cash and found it again. However, when he was called upon, he knew that his arrival had to be immediate. Peter would always do his best to get to places, but he often found it hard to get there on time. Something always seemed to happen and he felt as if he was maybe running out of excuses.

This time however, he wasn’t late. He had somehow managed to make it to the meeting place well before he was supposed to be there. Peter silently gave himself a pat on the back and a smirk settled on his features as he pulled out his laptop. It was Celine this time who he was supposed to meet. While she was nice to him, he still was intimidated as fuck by her. He had seen all of the surveillance of her hits being taken out, and he knew exactly what she could do. He just hoped that he wouldn’t one day find himself on the other side of things. His head perked up when Celine got there, smiling widely and waving her over to come sit by him. He pulled up the security feed as she sat down next to him. 

“So I’m just going to go over a few points with you before you take out this hit. These security cams have huge blind spots, plenty of places where action could happen and no one could see it,” he started. “I’ve already hacked into their tech and have a few of their feeds on a loop so we can back track and clean up the recordings later,” he explained. “Do you… Do you have a plan at all? Maybe then I can set the trail of cameras following your entrance?”

Celine wasn’t the sort to call for backup very often. She very much preferred a solitary mission, where she could take her time toying with her victims until she grew bored and killed them. But once in a blue moon, the name on her list belonged to someone with more...sophisticated means of protecting themselves. Security cameras, keypads with codes, all the works that came with a person who knew they were to be hunted, and soon. The woman in question, who had thought to try pilfering secrets from the Bratva to sell to the highest bidder, had been well-prepared for the arrival of some type of assassin. 

But Celine was the stubborn sort, and she had just the right man for the job.

She watched him now, typing away on his laptop as the security cameras appeared on the screen. Such a fascinating talent, Peter was. How Viktor had roped him into their little family, she would never know, nor did she really care to. Celine looked at the feed, a smile slowly growing as he pointed out the holes in the system. “Hm, not quite as clever as I thought she was.“ Her eyes darted from screen to screen, a pout forming as she tallied the number of guards. “So there’s six total, two on each floor. That’s...acceptable, I suppose.” The slight edge of disappointment was unmistakable. She had been hoping for more. 

At least it would be good practice.

“Well my plan, darling, is to play the role of a ghost. The pakhan doesn’t want me to set an example tonight, so I’d rather make this quick. Just guns tonight, nothing fun.“ She studied the images before pointing to where she would enter. Celine traced out the route, mapping it carefully in her head as she wove together her plan. “This room here, with the keypad or whatever. You think you can get me in there? On the third floor? Safe bet she’s hiding away in there, perhaps with a friend.”  

“Yes, it’s my trademark.” He said with a laugh. “You really don’t have to do that but I do appreciate it. Thinking everyone is a dear is certainly an odd way to go about things.”

Well, he wasn’t entirely without a sense of humour after all. “Oh please, I do insist. I’m sure you get plenty of free drinks all the time, but it’s the least I can do given how well you protect our city.“ The irony was positively delicious, knowing the man was none the wiser. “The name’s Celine. And who would be the darling I’m treating today?”

@celinedahl​

She has no tears for this wake. To be fair, Andy doesn’t have tears for many things, but especially this wake. She wears a pair of shades and wonders how long she can make it seem like she’s crying when she really isn’t. There’s the faint smell of death in here and she’s familiar with that. There’s an attempt to mask it with the fragrance of calla lilies and bluebells.

Mr. John Sawyer was a fine man and an old family friend. Apparently. A little young for death, if Andy is going to be completely honest, but here she was, at his wake. Andy’s aunt had called her in the middle of last week with a somber sadness, asking for a favor, and that had sobered Andy up. Since she couldn’t fly all the way out to New York, would Andy attend this wake on her behalf?

Of course, Andy says out of pure guilt - because this is the same aunt that took care of her mother when things got bad and Andy was stationed in the middle of god-knows-where. 

So Andy does the thing. Goes to the wake, pays her respects, tries her best at fake crying and fails. She thinks that’s the end of it -

and then nearly has a heart-attack when she sees Celine Dahl there.

She spots her by a cluster of roses next to the food. Oh, fuck her gently with a chainsaw. What is Dahl doing at this funeral? Andy pushes past the crowd, one that’s a healthy smattering of all ages. The suited figures mill around quietly like they’ve become ghosts themselves and marshal has very little patience for it. She works to get close, because as much as she wants to create a scene and accost Ms. Dahl from across the room, she knows this is not the place to do it.  

She slides right up next to the snake and waits till most are out of earshot before whispering to her. It’s in a harsh, albeit quite tone, “Are you seriously crashing this wake?” 

Or worse, is she responsible for this wake? Andy’s eyes narrow in suspicion and her hand itches to palm the gun on her. The one silver lining of being a marshal - her gun is welcome with her everywhere. Schools, planes, churches - 

- even wakes. 

Celine had a fondness for funerals. While most would avoid them like the plague, dissuaded by the constant feeling of grief permeating the air, she lingered at them, watching ever so patiently until the corpse was placed deep beneath the ground. Another body buried, another target taken care of. It was only then that she would consider any job fully complete, even if the payment had been transferred to her account weeks ago.

She tugged at her black gloved ever so daintily, looking as severe as a schoolmistress with her hair pulled back and away from her angular face. The black ensemble was plain, inconspicuous even, among the crowd of people who had arrived to give their condolances to the victim’s family. John Sawyer had been an easier kill than the others. One small adjustment to his heart medications and he was as good as dead, with his age disguising any suspicion that the death had been anything but natural. Regardless, she wanted to see his family, wailing in their grief before she burned his file back in her apartment, never to think of him again. It was a tradition of sorts.

But as she looked on from a distance, dry-eyed and just the slightest bit bored, a familiar face started to push her way through the crowd directly towards her. The assassin’s pleasantly neutral expression broke, and a condescending smile replaced, white teeth gleaming. “Darling, what a delight to see you.“ The marshall, Amanda Shepherd. Why wasn’t she surprised? She was always tagging along just two steps behind, yapping at her heels whenever she had the opportunity. “For your information, I was invited. Mr. Sawyer and I were associated. Such terrible news, his passing.” Celine sighed, debating if she could somehow remove the knife hidden in her dress and place it squarely between the woman’s ribs without being noticed. Unlikely, given how much she liked to squawk.

“Why on earth do you think I’d be crashing this wake, dear? He died of natural causes, didn’t he?” She asked, blue eyes glittering with restrained malice. What an unexpected pleasure, to have the opportunity to torment the triggerhappy woman in public. “Heart attacks are perfectly natural, love. Even you should know that much.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything about Mr. Vicario. I have a non-disclosure agreement between all of my high profile clients.” Draven was a bit suspicious of the woman, especially since she said she worked for the Bratva. He watched her carefully as she examined his paper weight. He was starting to wish he sent the intern for coffee instead of his secretary. 

“You can access the court records if you want, it’s all public information. However you will have to go down to the clerk of the courts. Have you seen the people who work in that office, they aren’t as good looking as me. “ He smiled as he rested a hand on his leg. “ You could also talk to Mr.Vicario yourself. I’m assuming because you found me you can easily find him as well.” 

“Ah, not how this game works, darling. Although that’s quite cute, denying me what I want.” The weight wasn’t heavy enough, unfortunately, so Celine put it back where it was. There had always been a good chance that the laywer had received similar visits in the past, but none of them had ever been her. “I’m already planning a trip to visit Dante, dear, and by all means, you can let him know that a little karakurt will be knocking on his door soon enough. But a girl’s got to do her research first. You understand, don’t you?”

She made her way around the desk slowly, with the confidence that she could catch him far quicker than he could run. “Come now, Mr. Nappo. Don’t you think you might be able to bend the rules just a smidgen? I don’t need to know anything dangerous, just what kind of man he is.” Celine reached out, tugging at his silk tie with a seductive grin. “I could make it worth your while, if you promise to behave. It would be such a shame, if you were to be punished, don’t you think?”