58 - Smiley

"One day I burned the house I loved."

- Leonard Cohen

. . .

XERXES CREED

I entered the club, walking through the sultry silence of it which got frequently broken the gasps and screams coming through the private rooms. Women and men walked around with collars around their necks, which showed that they were owned. Their dominants were close by.

I weaved through the small crowd, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere. I had to find Claudia.

And I found her with a woman who looked to be submissive, too. "Claudia."

She looked at me. She was dressed in a skin-tight black dress. There was no collar around her neck.

She nodded towards a private room. Her eyes lit up with excitement. I walked into the room, holding it open for her.

She kneeled beside the door as soon as I slammed the door shut.

I walked to the bed, unbuttoning my suit, and sat down. She crawled towards me, sitting by my legs, her eyes lowered and posture graceful. A good submissive. Olivia wasn't a good submissive. She had barely scratched the surface of it.

I let her squirm for a while and took my phone out. I was about to go to the gallery but Olivia's text popped up.

Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes.

Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes. Xerxes.

I met the *freaking* Carrie Arnaud today. Call me.

Call me.

Call me.

Was she drunk?

I smiled and decided to text her later. I went to the gallery and tapped on the picture I had been sent by Michael.

"Look up, Claudia." She did and I showed her the screen of my phone.

Her eyes widened, fear brewing in them. It was a picture of her talking to a man who had the Bratva tattoo on the side of his temple. She looked to be talking to him and he was handing her an envelope which undoubtedly had money. I had eyes on everyone I interacted with. Her reaction to me having Olivia was not a positive one and if there was one thing I knew about women, it was that they rarely let shit go.

"Explain." I took my gun out of my suit jacket and pressed it to her temple. She trembled.

"I-I..." She closed her eyes, tears slipping out of them. She knew I was going to kill her. How much I'd make her suffer was up to her. "H-He asked for information about you, sir." Her voice was a whisper. "I gave it to him."

"Why?"

"Because of I-I..." I dug the gun harder into her temple. "Because I was jealous." She sobbed quietly, wrapping her arms around herself like Olivia sometimes did yet I felt no urge to hold Claudia.

"What did you tell him?"

She told me. She had told him that I was frequent at these clubs that I had a new submissive and everything she possibly could about me. The information was pointless. I never told my subs anything important, I would never tell Olivia anything either. Claudia didn't know who the man was. I wasn't surprised at that.

I shot Claudia and left her dead on the floor. I waited for the guilt to fill me as if had after my first few kills but it didn't come. It never did anymore.

A monster makes a monster, my mother had once said to me while cradling my broken body in her arms. Don't let him make you a monster, Xerxes. He didn't make me a monster. My father was unable to make me a monster because he thought it was his torture on me that would make me snap.

Igor got it right. It was torture on my brothers which made me snap.

Weak are those who feel, son. I could hear my father's voice. He has said that to me a million times which he had me bound in the cell.

I walked out of the club, feeling pushed closer to the edge. I got inside my car, closing my eyes. Get it out of your head, Xerxes.

Yet the memories came crashing back. My mother was burning in a room. Her helpless wails of anguish were so loud they still echoed in my head. Then, my Olivia was there and my Little love was burning, crying out to me to help her. I couldn't reach her. I couldn't reach them.

My phone rang. I looked at it with blurry eyes.

Little love.

She was calling.

I took deep breaths and picked the phone up. "Hey, baby."

"You did not call me!" She whined, her voice slurring. "Your ponytail friend got me drunk and now I'm painting. I think I'm making a smiley face. Do you want a picture after I am done?"

"Yes, I do." I smiled, my panic sinking. "Anything else you wanted to say, Olivia?"

"I met Carrie Arnaud!" She exclaimed. "She saw my sketches and she loved them. She doesn't know I'm me. I mean, she doesn't know that I'm Olivia. Not that I'm famous. Basically, she doesn't know my real name so my anonymity is maintained. Back to what happened. She saw my sketchbook and she got it, Xerxes."

"I haven't seen your sketchbook," I grumbled. She kept that damn thing tucked to her chest as if a part of her very soul.

"Hush," she said. "So, she loved it and she gave me her number because she wants to see more of my work! Is this awesome or is this awesome?"

"Second option."

"I know right." She giggled and I found myself smiling at the sound. So happy. I would die for her to be that way every day. "She's awesome."

"I'm happy for you, Little love."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "What are you doing?" "I'm in my car, going home."

"From work?"

I hummed. "Something like that."

I knew she was getting curious but somehow, I did not expect her to ask. "From where, then?"

She was drunk. Sober Olivia respected our privacy too much to ask questions outright.

"I was talking to a woman who interacted with the Bratva earlier this week."

"Oh, did she say anything useful?" She inquired. "No, love. She was pretty fucking useless."

"Be nice!"

"Can't. And you love it when I'm mean." I was going to be very mean to her the second I got my hands on her. She was being disobedient. She needed a regular spanking to stay good. I had listened to the whole phone call she and my brothers had, I had been sitting nearby.

"I don't!"

I watched as a few bikes zoomed past my car, their speed too much for the crowded road. I caught the name on the back of the jackets the men wore. Blood MC. What a unique name.

I had not been aware that a motorcycle club had formed in New York. Shit like this needed permission from the Mafia - from me. I doubted it was just a club of motorcycle enthusiasts judging by their speed on the road.

"I'll talk to you later, baby."

"Okay. Do you still want the smiley?" "Yes, I do."

She said goodbye and I hung up.

. . .