#jamesvbeircheart

Gordon Golightly did not throw parties half-heartedly, if his foster daughter’s gala was anything to go by. He could see the Golightly heiress now, bedecked in the sort of jewelery that likely had the other mafias salivating over in quiet envy, a welsh corgi chasing after the trail of her dress. A full orchestra played creative renditions of popular songs, while servers scrambled to refill the quickly-depleting dessert table. Money was thrown carelessly into an event of such magnitude that it seemed difficult to believe the evening had gone so far without any sign of a potential incident. Viktor did not need to know high society well to understand that vultures were flocking the room, waiting and watching for the moment to swoop in and take their piece of the Golightly fortune.

Viktor, however, was not among them. No, he was here to make alliances, and to meet people who would be of use to him in the coming conflicts among the mafias of New York City. Anything he needed to bring some semblance of peace back to the Bratva. Even if it meant enduring an evening of weak drinks and excessively long conversations.

He was taking a small breather from his networking, watching as the heiress and her dog passed him by towards the petting zoo. But his attention left her in favour of the man shadowing her, with a scar so distinct that Viktor did not need to guess what his profession was. “I can’t imagine it would be easy, guarding Miss.Golightly on a night like this, yes?” He called out, watching him with some measure of interest, just to see if he was right. “I think you may have lost out to the alpacas tonight, I’m afraid. It seems she’s enamoured with them.”