Being known and successful has its perks. It brings in money and business—it brings in opportunities. But, it also brings me to gatherings that leaves me wanting to take my car, and run over everything. I could always blame it on the car I brought this evening. 'It drives itself, but there was a malfunction.' One that caused me to ruin the entire event...accidentally. Then there's my riches, but I don't believe in throwing money to make my problems disappear, because, truth be told, they never truly disappear.

I sigh as I sip the golden liquid in my glass, looking around at anything that seems interesting—which proved to be nothing at this moment. Men in expensive suits and women in expensive dresses, with questionable hair and heel choices, are the only things that grace my eyes. They talk amongst themselves, fake smiles plastered on their faces as if they're scared to rest them. I almost grimace at the sight, but manage to continue judging silently.

"Rodrick knew better than to wear that suit out," James says, walking up to me with a cookie in hand, "I thought his wife was a fashion designer?"

James, on the other hand, doesn't mind judging aloud. He doesn't care too much about who hears; he happily wrings the freedom of speech dry.

"She is," I answer, "that's part of her latest collection."

"Shit, really?"

I nod.

"It's downright fucking ugly, and the sight makes me want to leave even more."

I smile, downing the rest of my drink, before placing it in one of the neat cup holders. James is the one who urged me to go, when I was fine with missing the event entirely. He claimed it looked good for status—me showing my face. I still didn't care, but you can't say no to James when he's sitting in front of you practically begging you with those soft eyes. He's also used that to his advantage, but I let it slide.

We've been here for two hours on end, and sat through various speeches—one being my own. I was immediately urged onto the stage upon arrival, my greetings falling on deaf ears. It was surprising at first, but not unexpected. I'm Ziya Caddel. A multimillionaire, and one of the best lawyers in the country. When you build your own firm from the ground up, and put its net worth into the billions...people obviously notice. And they want to partner with you. Add on the fact that I approve others businesses, and you attract people like the ones before me.

James groans from beside me, taking refuge in the pristine white seat that once held a box of wine. At least, that's what I'm assuming. I watch as he unbuttons the first two buttons on his shirt, welcoming the cool air on his skin. A minute doesn't pass before he's buttoning them back, shaking his head at the unforgiving weather.

"Can we just go?" he asks, looking down at the keys that now rested in his hand, "I didn't get a brand new car tonight for it to sit in a car loop."

"You wanted to be here, James," I remind.

"I know! For the free drinks, and so people won't think you're a grouchy business woman—but now, I'm ready to go."

I laugh, softly, while leaning against the table. I look down at James who couldn't take his eyes off his keys. I kept my promise of getting him a car, but I don't think he expected it so soon. I don't think he thought I was serious, even when I told him I was. I bought him a 2020 Porsche Panamera that racked up $100,000 in price. It was a little less, but with the newer rims, tinted windows, and new wrap—the price makes sense.

"You think I'm a grouchy business woman, James?" I ask, tilting my head in his direction.

His eyes find mine, his mouth gaping open—stuttering to find the right words. "I didn't mean I think that. I meant the outside world who doesn't know you like I do. You know that."

I hum, knowing James' opinions of me. They're nothing bad, or degrading, but there's nothing wrong with a little teasing.

"So," I start back, "what happened between you and Talon the other night?"

"You mean before or after you and Malik put on your own personal show?" he asks, tone light.

I give him a look and he holds his hands up in his defense.

"After we left you two to your own things, we went back to one of the bars. He ordered a row of shots, and asked me if it was my first time. It technically was, and I told him so...and I mentioned what I wanted to achieve."

I stand straight as he mutters the last few words, "Was he your first experience?"

"Not like that!" James assures, his face flaming red, "he told me about his experiences there with both men and women. We took some more shots. He...drank one before kissing me, and I liked it. It was only once; we talked the rest of the night."

"So he was okay?"

"Yeah," James nods, "I wouldn't mind being around him more."

I hum, taking in everything he said. I'm glad he and Talon stuck together throughout the night, and Talon proved to be decent company for him. James is a grown man, and can clearly function on his own, but the club was a new experience for him in a way, and he wanted to experience new things with newer people. It's natural that I look out for him, and watch out for vipers that have disgusting, and ill intentions. I'd never let anything happen to James—not on my watch.

As if sensing me getting into my head, James leaves to get me another drink. He presses a kiss to my hand before he goes, and I take claim of his seat. I solemnly rest my head against my hand, being careful of my makeup. I scan the crowd again when my eyes catch notice of a familiar mop of auburn hair. The figure turns, confirming what I already knew, and our eyes lock. I mentally roll my eyes, dreading the conversation I know is bound to happen. The person excuses themselves before attempting to elegantly sway my way.

James returns at the same moment, holding out a glass to me. "You won't believe who I saw."

"Kylie," I sing, turning James around, his eyes widening at the sight of her.

"Ziya," she greets, giving James a curt nod, "I'm surprised to see you here. You were never one to attend these events."

I hum in acknowledgment, taking a sip of the familiar drink. Kylie watches my actions, a smile overtaking her features. Out of everyone here, hers is the fakest of them all. I don't see why she's still standing before me when there's nothing I could say to her. We had our past, and I pushed it aside because we're now in the present. I don't care enough to hold on to what could've been. I don't care enough to repair a dead friendship, and partnership.

"It must be a surprise to see me here too," she continues, adding on a laugh that rang uncomfortably in my ears. "I actually work for Tex Industries now. They contacted me, and immediately made me a partner."

"How nice, Kylie. Tex Industries hired you when they were drowning in debt. Are they still going bankrupt?" I ask, my tone bored.

Kylie heavily seeks my approval—even when we're no longer partners, or associates. She can't help it. It's in her nature to want to be recognized, and be the center of the world. She'll go crazy, eventually, when she realizes the world can go on without her. She must've forgot her little visit when she first came back. I don't want to say she's grasping at anything that'll take her, but that's exactly what it seems like. Now she's sweet, happy, Kylie.

Her smile slightly drops when I mention the state of the company she's partnering with. I denied to sponsor it because I knew it would come to a downfall, yet I still know their state of business. I know everything that happens within the business whether they like it or not. And they are going bankrupt, whether they like it or not.

Kylie straightens up, fixing me with a slight glare, "well I'd rather be working for a bankrupt company then a murderous one. I'm glad you didn't let me back."

"You're too old to be spreading lies and childish insults, Kylie," although I did the same during her first visit, "and I frankly don't care."

"I do," James pipes up, looking directly at Kylie, "what are you talking about, murderous?"

"You didn't hear?" she asks, a smug look replacing the smile, "Ziya did put away that abuser—Dylan was it? He was imprisoned, and not even a full twenty-four hours passed before he was killed."

"So what?" I interrupt, "murders inside of a prison are nothing new. If you care so much, tell them to better their guards."

"But, Ziya," she goes on, "Dylan was in solitude. No one could have gotten to him, so the fact that he died after being put away by you...people are talking. It was written off as a jail thing, but we know better."

James and I glance at each other. People who do what I do think I killed Dylan—or at least think I had a hand in it. It's bullshit if I ever heard it. I did aid in him being imprisoned, and I did wish him harm—but so much as killing...my hands are clean.

Kylie, satisfied with the seed she planted, grins before turning around with her signature fake smile. I calmly push back my glass before standing, shouldering my sequined Gucci Marmont bag. James grabs my jacket, leaving his small tray of snacks.

"Where are we going?"

"My office. Call in Alisha and Nadia. Now."

James nods, quickly taking out his phone as we separate. My car beeps as I unlock it, almost being overpowered by the strong click of my heels. James practically throws himself into his car, quickly following me. I throw my purse to the side after grabbing my phone, and dial the number of Dylan's representative. It's quite late in the night, but I never cared. The line rings twice before he picks up.

"Hello? Ms. Caddel?"

"Be at my office in ten minutes."

"What, why—"

I hang up, throwing my phone to the side along with my purse, and press slightly harder on the gas. Someone's about to do some fucking explaining.

***
"Ms. Caddel," my recently added valet driver greets.

His hand is readily out, a polite smile on his face. I return it as I drop my keys into his hands. He thanks me before walking smoothly to my car, unaware of the reason I'm here on a late night. It's wrong to take my displeasure out on him when I have no one to be upset with besides myself. And maybe at someone else.

I shoulder my purse after I retrieve my phone, checking my notifications to make sure everyone that's supposed to be here, is here. I'd hate to have to track somebody down.

James: in your office. everyone's here.

I make my way past the first floor receptionist, nodding at her along the way. She's supposed to clock out in about twenty minutes, yet that's prolonged from my surprise meeting. I make a mental note to up her next paycheck by five grand for the hassle. If it were me, I'd be pissed that I had to stay at work when I have kids and a husband waiting for me. Not that kids and a husband are in the cards for my future, but I can put myself in someone else's shoes when need be.

The elevator opens as the sensory monitor detects me approaching. I hold in a sigh as I step inside, pressing the top floor. The doors close, encasing me in the silent space. I made sure that some elevators didn't have the plain music playing from the speakers. Some people don't like the horrible tune—people like me. I'd commit a massacre if I were in an elevator for however long, squished into a small space with other people, while elevator music played. Yeah, no thank you.

It's not long before I reach the top floor that's reserved for James and I. Nadia has an office next to mine, but she prefers to work more on the lower levels. It doesn't hinder her work as she manages to meet mine and her own needs.

The click of my heels are the only thing to be heard as I strut to my office; the door's left open, and chairs pool around my desk. James notices me first, standing up to meet me at the door.

"Everyone's confused, but they're ready to work."

"Good," I nod, circling around to my seat.

Dylan's representative sits up at the sight of me, fear and confusion residing in his eyes. He should be scared, but the confusion should be on me. After all, I'm the one in the spotlight for this unforeseen murder.

"What's this about?" he stutters out, "you were pretty vague on the phone tonight."

"Dylan Arogatti is dead," I put simply, "he wasn't in prison for a full twenty-four hours before he died. And this happened days ago, so inform me on why I wasn't notified."

Shock crosses his face in an instant—Alisha and Nadia wearing the same expressions. They know what this meant without me having to utter the accusations being placed on myself and my company. On my employees. James takes place beside me, offering me to sit down but I was pissed on another level. The stupidity that runs its course around here sets me off, and I have no one to blame but myself. I shouldn't have put this representative on watch when it seems like he's chasing his own tail.

"Ms. Caddel, I can assure you that I didn't know of this...I thought he was placed in solitary confinement, per my request."

"Your request?" I repeat, staring into his eyes. "You—"

"The heat is being placed on us," James interrupts, knowing I could blow any second.

I repeatedly count to ten in my head, calming myself down before I did things I'd regret tonight. I quietly collect myself as James explains the situation to the three. Per this man's request, he placed Dylan in confinement. For what—for safety?

Alisha searches through her computer while Nadia phones the prison and the arresting officers. I sit down with a frown, James gently turning me towards him. He places his hands on my knees as he leans forward, searching my eyes to make sure I'm calm.

"You can't lose your head, Z. This isn't something we've dealt with before, but it's not enough to knock you down. You know that."

"Yeah," I sigh, giving him a small smile, "I do know that."

James returns the smile, "a thank you would've sufficed."

Alisha excuses herself, placing her computer down on my desk. She presses play to show security footage of a prison guard taking off his key belt and leaving it in a findable space. He briefly glances at the camera before leaving, then it goes black. James and I share a look before replaying the video in a slower speed. He was smart enough to take off anything that could identify him, and we don't have any equipment that had facial recognition.

Nadia ends the call with whoever was on the other line before turning to us with a confirming gaze.

"Dylan was murdered. Police says it was a single gunshot to the head, but no one heard anything. Not any guards, or inmates who were also in solitary confinement. He obviously couldn't have done it himself, but it's being juggled between wrongful suicide or murder by guard."

A gasp is heard from the representative, a distraught frown replacing the shock, "who would go through the lengths?"

"You'd be surprised," James answers, slowly closing the computer, "a lot of people, even in jail, don't show kindness to women abusers."

Nadia agrees before excusing herself to sort out the accusations bouncing around the companies. Alisha follows to clock in this meeting.

"Alisha," I stop her, "I need you to rack in every email we've gotten from Tex Industries. Highlight anything that deals with alliances and money. Sir, you can go. You know where the exit is."

I wait a beat as everyone leaves, James staying by my side. Once the doors close, he's on me in a second, spouting questions one after the other.

"What do you think, and why do you need information about Tex?"

"I think it was wrongful suicide as the police suggested," I answer, leaning back in my chair, "as for Tex Industries...consider it doing an old friend a favor."

James hums, taking that final answer. I knew better than what I answered, but I'll keep it to myself for now. It's not a coincidence that Dylan Arogatti is dead after I gave his name up to Malik. I don't know much about him, and I don't know what he does. Still, I know when to look the other way. This may be one of those times. And Kylie. Sweet Kylie. She'll be thanking me soon.

"You've got that look on your face," James says, leaning into my vision.

"Do I?" I ask, unable to hide the amusement behind my eyes.

"Yeah, should I be scared?"

A small laugh escapes me as I lean up from my chair, "I think we should get dinner and go home. This day has been enough."

"Can I stay over yours? I don't want to leave you alone tonight."

"I'm a big girl, James," I muse, placing my hand on his shoulder, "but I don't mind."

"Can I pick what we eat?"

"Yes, James."

We leave my office together, shutting off the building lights. Alisha and Nadia are long gone, and I wave a goodbye at the floor receptionist, assuring her that she can finally go home. James talks about the desserts he wants with our meal, not aware that my head is somewhere else. I wish it wasn't so, but the shady death of Dylan Arogatti plagued my mind. The person that orchestrated the death plagued my mind.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*
Update! How do we feel about this chapter?
Why do we think Ziya wanted to know about Tex Industries?

QOTD: do you like sports? if so, do you have a favorite one?

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*
Even though I'm nowhere near done with this book lol I've started writing Talon's book. It's easy because it's after the ending of this book, and I know how I want this to end. SOO I'm thinking about publishing the Prologue so you guys can have it added to your libraries or lists! How do we feel about that?

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*
THAT'S IT. FOR EXTRAS, TEASERS, EDITS & MORE, CHECK OUT MY SOCIALS:
Instagram: @ zwritesss
Threads: @ zwritesss
TikTok: @ zwritessss

See you later, alligators 💚