A/N:
I apologize if you saw three updates before this one. The chapter was glitching and I had to take it down and repeat it again. But, it's fine now.

*

Standing next to Hana, Elodie rifled through the small collection of clothes laid out on the bed by the other woman.

There were eight items in total, and without even looking at the price tags, Elodie could tell they were expensive. It also quickly became apparent that they were all sexy numbers with daring slots, plunging necklines and backless designs. There was a golden mini dress with shimmering strands draping from its body that Jean would totally love, and a clinging, silk pantsuit she wouldn't be caught dead wearing.

But there was one dress that caught her eyes in particular.

The black dress  was floor length with a scandalous high slit that would end right on her right hip bone, should she choose to wear it. It's high neck had several beads and snow-flake designs stiched into it.  The one wrist-length sleeve it has also had the snow-flake and beads design; and that same design was stitched on different parts of the shiny black material of the dress and trailed up the edge of the slit. The cleavage was nothing scandal, and giving this type of dress a plunging neckline would take away from its beauty.

The other dress that held her attention was the long, purple deep-plunge, wrap-around halterneck dress.

"Have you decided?" Hana asked, standing patiently to the side, clutching her ever omnipresent iPad in her left hand.

They weren't alone, of course. Two girls—about Elodie's age—stood to her right, tittering nervously as they watched Elodie with hawk eyes.

She and Angelo had returned to the house after they'd finished their coffee (she didn't finish hers because...nerves!), and Elodie had opted to lock herself in the room; not answering the door when Hana brought food twice.

Elodie had called Jean on video call and was lucky enough to catch her reading to Mace. Seeing her brother had given her so much enough energy boost that when Hana returned that evening, she opened the door without any hesitation.

Only that Hana wasn't alone. Two girls in matching powder-blue slacks and stiff white button-down shirts trailed her into the room, each of them clutching four garment bags.

Elodie had stood to the side while the girls set to work, carefully extracting each dress from its bag and laying them on the bed.

"I can't decide between the purple and black," Elodie replied, gaze darting to and from the dresses in question.

Hana gave an impatient sigh. "We don't have all evening. Just choose the one that speaks to you the most."

Conscious of the fact that Angelo was, in fact, getting ready at this very moment as she was, Elodie knew she had to decide fast.

Her eyes snagged on the black dress again. Angelo had told her that he would make her do things that would push her out of her comfort zone tonight, so wearing a dress she normally wouldn't wear should help with boosting her confidence, right?

Besides, if he wanted her to impress Vasily, it was only right that she dressed according.

"I'll take the black one."

"Good choice, ma'am," one of the girls, the one with dark hair streaked through with purple, said, grinning. "We'll help you wear it."

Elodie raised a brow at Hana. "I have to undress in front of them?"

The other woman shrugged. "I can't help you get into that, and you can't either, so they're your best bet."

Exhaling heavily through her teeth, Elodie stripped bare, counting from one to hundred in her head so she wouldn't expire from embarrassment.

The girls circled her instantly, fluttering about like delicate butterfly wings."You can't wear this dress with a bra or panties either."

At her nod of assent, both girls helped her wear the dress, and one of them moved to fasten the buttons at the back, while the other one fussed over the slit, sleeve and the neck.

When they were done, they joined Hana to give her a cursory look from head to toe. Elodie stood still, breath held, waiting for their verdict. It was Hana who spoke, though.

"It suits you perfectly," she said with a satisfied nod.

Then, she snapped at purple girl who rushed to one of the other bags Elodie hadn't noticed, and returned with a shoe box in hand.

"We brought these Jimmy Choos because it matches the dress," she explained, lifting up a beautiful pair of silver textured lamé sandals trimmed with sleek, black leathers. The heels were at least four inches high.

"Okay," Elodie approved.

Purple girl placed them on the ground, and I slipped my legs one at a time under the cross-over straps while she fastened the ankle buckles. They fitted just perfectly.

"You may pack your things and leave now," order Hana.

Neither of them moved or said anything until the girls were gone with their garment and shoe bags.

"How would you like to wear your hair?" Hana asked when they were alone.

Elodie shrugged. "Whatever you think is best."

"Aright then. Sit over there."

Elodie complied, going to sit on the stool in front of the dresser with large mirror. Hana ditched her iPad and suit on the bed, and joined her.

She made a quick work of fluffing, braiding it into a single plait that fell over one shoulder, and added a silver-leaf comb on one side.

The sight of the hair piece brought back the memory of Mercedes and the blood that spurted from her throat where Elodie had stabbed her. Guilt filled her sharply.

"Do you know if Mercedes is okay now?" She asked Hana, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Hana paused in the act of tucking a small strand of hair behind Elodie's ear, meeting her eyes. "And why would you want to know about the woman that mistreated you so badly that you had to stab her to escape?"

"I didn't stab her on purpose, you know." Elodie dropped her eyes to the neck of her dress. "I acted subconsciously."

"Same difference."

Talking to Hana was like trying to infiltrate Fort Knox. It was pointless.

"Never mind."

"Good." She sounded satisfied, much to Elodie's annoyance. "Let's do your makeup now."

Several powder puffs and lipstick application later, Hana drew back and said, "Have a look," before stepping away.

Elodie gasped at the image reflecting back at her. She got to her feet in a daze, eyes riveted on the view before her. The smoky eye shadow emphasized the shape of her eyes, giving them a luminous quality that made her breath catch all over again.

Her lipstick shade was a dark purple that almost looked black if she titled her head slightly. Light pink blush dusted the bone of her cheeks, emphasized by the contouring that made her nose look more pronounced.

Worse, the dress paired with this makeup made her look like one of those vixens that drank blood red wine, seduced unsuspecting men out of their money, and ate a child's heart for dinner under a full-moon.

Elodie actually swayed forward as if she was slightly drunk or dizzy.

"You're one femme fatale in disguise, Elodie," Hana said, a little smirk playing on her lips.

Elodie caught her eyes in the mirror. "You don't think it's too much?"

"There's never a thing as too much when you're dressed to kill." Her eyes widened in faux innocence. "Mr. Casieri wouldn't know what hit him tonight. I doubt he'd be able to keep his fingers off of you. He'll be please."

"Will he?" Elodie found herself whispering.

"Yes." Her word was firm.

Elodie frowned.

"Would you like me to escort you to the door?"

"I'll go by myself."

"Here." Hana handed her a glittering black purse with thin silver chain-links strap. "I've taken the liberty to stash your phone, a powder compact and lipstick in it, just in case you need to touch up."

"Thanks."

As she walked down the stairs, Elodie saw a shadow fall on the bottom step.

Arcangelo Casieri stood there, looking up at her. He was wearing a snow white dinner suit, which boasted of dark lapels. A black bow tie sat snugly at the base of his neck. He was wearing a black shirt underneath the jacket; and instead of clashing with his eyes, it only brought out the golden flecks in them.

Under his watchful eyes, Elodie closed the distance between them, coming to a stop in front of him on the bottom step.

"You look edible," he murmured, eyes feasting on the exposed skin of her thighs.

Edible, he says, E2 mused.

That took Elodie aback, because it'd been a while since her alter-ego made an appearance. Also, did he mean she was good to eat?

Like food?

Rrright, E2 rolled her eyes.

Elodie ignored her.

"Thanks."

He cleared his throat, then held out the crook of his arm. "Shall we?"

Elodie took the offered arm. "We shall."

*

Maybe she'd been half-expecting that they'd go to a club, because when their driver finally dropped them off in front of a nondescript building with exposed, red brick walls and large windows, Elodie was taken aback.

There were no activities outside of this building. No party-goers mumbling about long lines, and no giggling or grumpy drunks stumbling out of the clean and large double doors either. But she knew enough that they were in Chelsea, but didn't know where exactly they were.

"Come on." Angelo offered the crook of his arm again and led them to the door.

He rapped his knuckles twice on the door, waiting a few seconds between each knocks. At first, nothing happened, then the door swung open inwards.

A man in oyster lounge suit stood behind the opened door. He bowed slightly at the waist, then waved them inside. "Welcome, sir, madam."

Angelo merely inclined his head in greeting, then proceeded through another door where a receptionist was waiting behind a large, marble desk.

Behind the large mahogany desk sat reddish-blonde woman, who looked to be in her late twenties. Half of her face was shielded by a feathered mask. But her lips were painted a red so deep it looked like blood, and Elodie knew what that looked like.

Around the woman's slim throat was a leather type of thing that had lock and key. The lock was secured with a tiny padlock. It was bizarre and Elodie was intrigued at the same time.

Other than her weird necklace choice and face cover, the woman was wearing a totally sensible pressed silk blouse that wouldn't look out of place in a high-rise office building, and her lipstick was a muted shade of pink.

She was a good looking woman, too. "Good evening, and Welcome to Sin City. What would you like tonight?"

"Actually, I'm using the private rooms booked under the name Medvedev," Angelo told her.

Elodie could have sworn that the woman's eyes widened briefly, but she blinked and the other woman was wearing that bright smile of hers.

"Let me check." Impressive blood-red nails with wicked looking tips clicked away on the keyboard of her large Apple screen, and after a while, she looked up with a smile. "He's already waiting for you, Mr. Casieri."

"Thank you."

"Wait," she called before Angelo could led their party of two to the waiting lift. "Your date needs a wristband."

Angelo nodded and told Elodie to hold out her wrist to the woman.

Elodie expected the band to be so color or something, but nothing prepared her for the hot heat that seared into her wrist from the red led light glinting from the rounded tip of a tiny laser looking thin.

She snatched her wrist back, wincing as the pain crested, then disappeared all together. Elodie examined her wrist, and to her chagrin, it was smooth and no marks could be seen.

"That will be all," said face-mask woman, still grinning. "Have you good night."

Elodie barely tamped down the urge to punch the skank in her face to wipe off that stupid smile. But before she could act on her violence, she was being led to the waiting lift.

"She's just doing her job," Angelo said once they ascended.

"I know," she replied. But that didn't want to make her punch her less. "So much for a wristband. I can't see the damned thing."

Angelo's chuckle filled the car. "That's because it's like a tracker thing. It tracks your movements and ensure you don't go where you're not supposed to."

"You didn't get one." The sulk in her tone was clear.

"I'm not a visitor. But, you are."

The doors opened before she could press further and they were admitted directly into a sitting room with lavish furnishings and tasteful designs. The walls were a deep red, with subtle gold accents everywhere.

Three men and two women were already occupying the crimson red chairs, chatting, drinking from whiskey glasses. Lazy smoke curled into the air from the lit end of one of the men's cigars, and the women held glasses of champagnes in their dainty looking hands. Neither women stood out as much as Elodie did. They were both wearing short dresses with plunging necklines; and though expensive it may be, the dresses made them look tart.

A dark flush climbed into her cheeks, and Elodie was grateful for the blush Hana had thoughtfully applied.

The first man on the right noticed their arrival. He had keen eyes that roamed all over Elodie before settling on Angelo. Dressed in sleek brown suit and white shirt, there was a sinister air about him.

When Angelo led them over the threshold and into the room, a faint smile spread over the man's smooth face as he got to his feet.

"Arcangelo Casieri," he said, tone littling at the end, giving his words a sing-song impression.

"Nikolai Sminorv," Angelo returned the greeting with a small smile. "Priyatno snova vas videt'."

His masterful use of the Russian language took me aback. Then, Elodie remembered where she was and smoothed her expression into a blank mask.

They shook hands briefly, and by the time they released each other, the other man was already standing in front of them.

This one was as handsome as sin and had his ice-blue eyes to prove it. His skin looked so creamy and smooth that Elodie almost asked him what his skin routine care was. The only thing that stopped her was the cold glint in those eyes.

"Spasibo, chto prishel, brat," Blue eyes said, reaching out to pat Angelo's shoulder in a way that spoke of familiarity.

Then—ignoring Elodie's existence completely, as if she didn't exist—Blue eyes started back to where the last man sat, arms spread wide over the back of his chair, legs spread the same way, watching them with those startling green eyes of his.

Everyone came to a stop few feet away from the seated man, quiet. Even the other women had stopped moving and sat so still that she feared they were statues.

Slowly, drawing out every move and taking his time while at it, the green-eyed man with a shock of white-blonde hair, rose to his feet.

Elodie pressed into Angelo's side, not to steal his warmth, but to assure herself that he was still beside her.

If she'd thought Angelo had the ice-king act down to pat, then she was delusional.

Everything about this man, from his designer suit, his tatooed ringed fingers, to the tip of his dress shoes exuded danger and flashing warning signs. And though his lips were tipped upwards at the corners, there was no warmth in his beautiful dead eyes.

"Casieri," the devil himself said, and his thick, low voice made the fine hairs on her body rise up to take notice.

"Medvedev."

A/N:

Arrrrgghhhhh!

I'm screaming right now, oh my lawd.

The tension in this room. The fine men, the power plays, girl just take me.

Finally, we meet Vasily, the elusive Russian with the Tsar Bomba™.

What are our thoughts?

Why do you think Angelo had Elodie dressed to the nines when they were just meeting in the private rooms?

Do you trust Vasily not to hurt Angelo or Elodie?

And why do you think Angelo didn't take any of his entourage with him?

Will Vasily hand over the bomb just as easily?

Comment your thoughts, and don't forget to vote and share.

For those who have the reading so far, voting, commenting, silent readers adding to the views number, I appreciate all of you.

Thank you for giving me a chance and continuing to love this booook.

You rock!