Everyone in the company knew that she loathed these types of assignments. They all knew that she would rather be out in the field than cooped in. Her brother dearest, of all people, knew that she'd be a hell-spawn when put in these god-awful situations.

Knowing Mikhail, that was the point.

And she hated him for it.

"Alanna."

"What?"

"Situation at the entrance. Someone's asking for Mikhail."

"Personally?"

"Yes."

"And you can't handle it because?"

"She's very adamant."

"I'm coming." She growled through gritted teeth.

The sound of an underling's laughter cutting off into a cough when they saw her only served to increase her ire. How dare they be comfortable when all she wanted was to change out of her suit, and get back to her explosives? How dare they not do their work when she had to deal with these rich assholes? How dare these guests, a man and a woman, disturb her rounds for something so assuredly simple and stupid? Oh, because she was sure that it's going to be something so simple.

Entitlement. Bah.

Because, of course, Mikhail should be the one here and not her. He was the one who should be charming his way through and getting more contacts, more work.

"Are you Mikhail Vox?" The woman in question asked with a red lipped smile. Impeccably dressed in black. Her back, shoulders and arms bared and a silver snake around her neck holding everything together. "I'm sorry for taking you away from your work."

The woman didn't look an inch adamant. She looks too sweet, too happy and too naïve. Alanna could almost guarantee that she could be an airhead. It was for this reason that she smiled back, smooth and charming, because Mikhail could do it as easy as breathing, but it didn't mean she couldn't.

"Alanna Vox. I'm here now, so what's the problem?" She folded her arms and looked down at the small woman.

"Ursa Sullivan." The silver snake around her neck had eyes as red as her lips. Blank. Empty. Glinting. "A personal favor that I am willing to do anything for."

The change in tone had Alanna snapping her gaze from those red blank eyes to the other's blue ones. Firm, but far from what could call adamant. It made her want to take it in her hands and show this little woman, just how brittle that will she's showing was.

"Oh? Is that hair ornament of yours not just for show?"

A pause. Movements on the background. Her underlings shifting and hiding their faces. The little woman's man frowned darker.

"It's a real dagger."

"Apparently so."

Alanna raised her brow. The little woman smiled sheepishly. Her man moved close and laid a hand on her back. It's amusing, what a pair they make, both small and too sweet.

"It's an heirloom of our family and never raised such problems before."

"Misha." The firmness strengthened and sharpened into a warning. The power dynamic becoming obvious when the man shrugged and bowed out of the conversation almost immediately. "It's never unsheathed because we can't and it's important enough to never be disassembled and we won't."

"So you want me to babysit a dagger."

"It's hardly a baby and it's definitely not as adorable as you are." Ursa mirrored her raised brow, daring a challenge to be issued. "I am sure though, that you are just as dangerous."

Alanna didn't bite.

Ursa stepped into her very personal space either way. Close enough that Alanna could map out the freckles on her face better. Close enough that her instincts were calling action for such offense. Close enough to emphasize that she's a head taller. Close enough that she's double thinking her previous assumptions. Definitely not an airhead. Definitely not just some rich spoiled bitch.

There was a smile in those blue eyes that mismatched the smile on her lips.

"It'll match your piercings." She whispered as she raised her hands and started pulling the pins that held her hair together. "And your eyes."
"It wouldn't even be in display," Alanna scoffed. "It's too bulky for my breast pocket."

"Then take comfort that the picture in my mind's eye would stay for the rest of the party." She licked her lips and placed a pin between her lips to hold. "I would definitely want to see it in reality."

"We'll see about that, little miss."

In the end, Alanna blamed intrigue and curiosity when she found herself pulling pins out of dark curls. She blamed it again when she felt the weight of Ursa's head against her chest and she just carried on pulling said pins then passing it to her to hold. She blamed it again when she took hold of the dagger and the questions that followed.

"How could you even wear this? It's heavy."

"For good luck." Ursa pulled away, making her look down to meet her eyes. Unfocused blues paired with a dreamy tone welcomed her. "You have nimble fingers. Have you ever thought of being a masseuse?"

She cleared her throat and chuckled. "It's way below my pay grade. Do you have a comb for your hair?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. Of course. Of course. A woman's necessity, combs."

"Well you look like you just had a very satisfying tumble, cousin." The chuckle was loud enough to be considered a laugh, but not quite. It broke through between them with ease and it took away the dreamy look on Ursa's face in a snap.

"Misha!"

"I'm sure she's accepted your request at this point."

"She hardly gave me a choice." Alanna smirked. "Very adamant."

"Few can say no to her, believe me. Many have tried." He offered an arm to Ursa, who took it too fast. "I'll bring her along before the end of the party. I have a feeling you'll get along."

Ursa still wasn't meeting her eyes. It was too cute. "I'll make sure to be around."

"Well aren't we enjoying ourselves?"

"I wasn't lying when I said she has nimble fingers, Galahad."
"Sounds like she got the upper hand."

"Hmmm. I don't mind."

"Oh, my Queen, aren't you a tad spoiled?"

"Don't mistake me Gawain, I make sure they know of my appreciation."

"Gawain, there's an opening within five minutes. Miss Vox just ordered the guard rotation to start."

"Earlier than planned. I might just be able to enjoy this party."

"You're welcome. I'll save a dance for you."

"I'll make sure we're the most fabulous in the room."

"Five minutes, Gawain."

"Right. Right."

The opulence was high inducing. Richness bled from the very walls and flooded the mirror like floors. The guests that moved around only amplified such lavishness. Beauty in different levels. Money in excess.

And he was among them, personally invited. Impeccably dressed with a beautiful woman clinging around his arm, the only thing required of him was to take and enjoy the debauchery.

Oh, and he's taking.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He couldn't care less and pulled her into one of the many rooms. "This isn't what we agreed on."

"You're here to accompany me and that's what you're doing." He closed the door and pushed her against the wall across it. "Accompany me well and I'll remember your name in the future. This is just the start, babe, and there's bound to be more."

"This isn't what you asked me to do."

"I paid for everything and all you have to do is be agreeable. Money for the privilege. Money for the hair and make-up. Money for you to fit in this fucking luxury. Money for the dress. Don't make me spend any more money for the stress." An unfortunate circumstance that was required by the situation, but unimportant in terms of the possibilities laid before him. In the long run, the money he spent for this one night would be inconsequential. By the end of the night, women would be the one starting to approach him and this one, this one he'll leave to the side. Like the money, she'll be worthless to him.

But for now, he would get his money's worth.

"You should be thanking me." He chuckled, pulling at the string that held her dress. She stopped it from falling by folding her arms and he gave her such control, for now. He could still smell the scent of the suburbs on her as he pressed his mouth against her shoulder. "You are so young and you're already walking amid people like us. Without any idea of what's happening. This is so much bigger than you could ever be and you are blessed a taste."

"I am here," Her voice broke with a shudder. "To do my job and, and… this-"

He sneered against her skin, tasting the fear.

"It's part of it."
"N-no."

"Unfold your arms."

She took a gulp of breath. "Please stop. Someone might come and see."

"And there's the slut you are. Acting saintly and shit."

"That's-"

The door opened. "-not what I mean!"

The muted sounds of the party came full force, masking the carpet muffled footsteps and the voices that came along with it. All he could think about was how they better react properly at seeing that the room was occupied.

"Then what do you mean?" A man and his woman. Oblivious enough that they're not leaving the room. "I just don't want you getting carried away."

"That would be missing the point!"

"Tell me then."

He pulled his head back from his woman and stared at the ceiling, gritting his teeth.

"We're here surrounded by more money than we could imagine and the right thing to do is enjoy it to the fullest. I'm going to drink to my heart's content. Find myself a man that knows how to enjoy himself-" A pause. A held breath. "-Like this gentleman here."

He grinned. Finally someone understood.

He pushed away from his woman and ran fingers through his hair. She skittered away from the wall and to as close to the door as she could. He took the chance to survey the newcomers.

"Doesn't look like she's enjoying it." Dirty, dirty blond. Blue eyed. Distaste clear on his face. This young man still bright eyed of the world with his obvious morality. A chivalry that would be interesting to corrupt in this world of money.

"Well, it is a matter of compatibility. Hold my champagne, would you?" A vision of porcelain and ebony. She moved across the room to his woman, her voice low in a whisper. She was definitely a whole different level compared to his woman, not only in the mindset department. He watched as she helped the other retie her dress.

"You're new faces." He started the conversation, directing the question to the woman.

"We've decided to expand our field of contact and circle of friends."

He frowned when it's the other man that answered. "And which field are you from?"

"Clothing."

"What a jump."

"Dear?"

Dear. A closer relationship than he initially thought, then.

"Hmm?"

"Would you escort Sasha and find her a ride home?"

"Of course. Miss?" The gallant and innocent young man was ever the gentleman. Not even deigning him a glance or any sign of permission. His woman was too eager to accept the offer, avoiding his eyes.

"Are we switching companions then?"

"No." Finally, the woman addressed and looked at him. A sweet smile stretching her lips. She moved toward him. Her hips calling for his attention and he gave it. "Not yet, at least."

"I hope whatever that yet is would be worth my time."

"Oh. I'll make sure." She looked sheepish, her eyes sliding away as she rubbed a finger against her lips. "I would love nothing more to cause mischief, but I do need to work."

"What happened to drinking to your heart's content and finding me for yourself?"

She tilted her head, hair sliding against her bare shoulders. An impish and unsure smile teasing him with their texture and softness. "It's in progress. However, as every rich person's principle, it's work before play."

He stepped closer and took one of her hands, planting a kiss on the back of it. "What's the guarantee that you'll be coming home with me then? And that your boyfriend would even let you?"

"Boyfriend?" She giggled and raked her eyes on him before shying away again, licking her lips. "That boy? He's my cousin, and too pure for me. If I had my way, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"What's stopping you then?"

"I can only cause mischief if I can get away with it." Her free hand pressed against his chest and the warmth only added to his high. He lost a woman around his arm, but here was a much more beautiful one already asking him to take her. A sign of good things to come. "And being obedient is part of it."

"My guarantee?" He pulled her against him and leaned closer. "How about a kiss?"

She leaned closer, blue eyes dancing. "But all I would think about is kissing you again then."
"As if you're not going to think of it after this." He rolled his eyes. Her act of bravery and teasing was amusing. Mixed with her shyness, it tempted him to push and push. His want to break demanding to be fulfilled, but knew that the wait would be worth it.

"I would rather plan what would happen when you bring me home." She pulled away and turned contemplative, rubbing her lower lip with a finger once more. A few minutes later, she started fiddling with her earrings. "One of these. The left or the right?"

"I would rather have your lips."

"…The right it is then." She removed it and stepped back into his hold. Her hands running over his chest in circles before slipping the earring in his breast pocket. "My personal fortune as a guarantee. I definitely won't forget you now."

Her fingers played with the top of his breast pocket, her gaze far away.

"Changing your mind?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her against him.

"No. I was thinking I should have a guarantee too."

"I'm willing to offer my lips."

She chuckled, arms wrapping around his neck. "I'm seeing a necklace."

He nuzzled his nose against her hair as he felt her remove his necklace and pull away from him. "Far from a fortune."

"Important enough." She stepped back, slipping it around her neck. She took a quick look at the dog tags. "Patrick Howell."

"And what should I call you?"

"Little Bear."

Oh, he would definitely love breaking her act of bravery. He would enjoy making her cry in pain and pleasure.

"How's Sasha?"

"Galahad was able to get her a ride home."

"Thank you."

"You cannot make sure of her safety after this night."

"We cannot ensure many things."

"And the earring?"

"Everything returns from where they began. No need to worry."

"I do not worry."

"And I worry so much."

"Where to next, Little Bear?"

"Give me an hour alone, dear."

"Got it. I'll be close by for back up."

"Gawain?"

"Merlin. The floor plans you showed us was pretty inaccurate. The amount of secret passages not in it exceeded my ten fingers already."

"Unimportant for now. Three minutes before the next rotation. Have you found any more information?"

"Yes. I'm going to the next location. This man is so paranoid to have different and secret layers of security in different locations just within this mansion."

"Not paranoid enough if they're confused by the many layers enough to not monitor it."

"And Miss Vox?"

"She's temporary security just for this event. Temporary enough to be uninformed."

"-durchbrüche?" Breakthroughs?

"Guinevere."

"Ja. Das ist immer das Muster. Technologie. Essen. Medizin. Dann alles andere. Dann wieder. Alexandre kannte ein solches Muster immer und unterstützte es immer."

Technology. Food. Medicine. Then everything else. Then repeat.

"Ist das der Grund, warum die Gästeliste so unterschiedlich ist? Wir waren überrascht, die Einladung zu erhalten."

"Genau. Es geht nicht um Geld, sondern um die Bereitschaft, das zu tun, was nötig ist."

It's not about money, but willingness to do what's necessary.

"Sie scheinen Alexandre gut zu kennen. Wie soll ich seine Aufmerksamkeit auf sich ziehen?"

"Er ist ein sehr guter Charakter richter, also liegt alles in Ihrer Hand. Er wird wissen, ob ich dir Tipps gegeben habe."

"Bekomme seine Aufmerksamkeit und ich bekomme deine, oder?"

"Nicht nur ich, sondern noch viel mehr. So viele mehr."

The woman looked a bit disheveled. Two locks of her hair pinned hastily back to clear her face. Her dark curls tumbled in disarray against her bare back. She also breathed a bit too hard, but there was a brightness in her eyes and a grin on her lips. She looked over the ballroom, where couples danced and everyone mingled.

She was a guest. It was clear from her attire and the jewelry that adorned her.

Lucien Alexandre watched this woman as her body moved with the music and her bare feet tapped a beat faster than the current rhythm. He moved closer and turned his gaze to the ballroom floor that she was watching so fondly. "If you want to dance, I am sure you wouldn't have any shortage of partners."

She didn't turn, but she tilted her head to his direction in acknowledgement. "I've had my fill of the dance for now. One of the groups was gracious enough to find volunteers to join them, and it was as exhilarating as I've always remembered."

"You sounded like you haven't danced in so long."

"Oh, I've danced recently. It's just that it's been so long since I've danced with others the same way. Instinctive, wild and free."

He looked at her once more. He wasn't around when the presentations were performed and to hear this deviation from the usual norm was news to him. "Which group was it?"

That made her sigh and finally look at him. The first thing he noticed made him smile.

"What's with the wide smile?"

"Did you lose an earring during the dancing? Or is that a fashion statement?"

She laughed. "It's amusing. I've been losing things here and there throughout the party. Primary of them would be just losing my way. I blame the architecture, interior decoration and the paintings. Especially the paintings."

"Poor paintings."

"There were so many I haven't seen before and they tell so many stories. Whoever collected them must've loved them very much."

That made him look at her in a different light. "You don't think that it's just because they have the money and the time? That they're bored of what to do with the excess?"

"I'd like to think not. If that was how it went, it wouldn't last like this. Something made them continue to collect. Something about these paintings that they wanted to understand. It's the same with the dancing and the singing. Yes, it's for an audience, but to carry on for so long?"

"If I showed you a painting, would you tell me the story you see?"

"As long as I don't get lost to and fro, and you tell me the story you see. Also, fair warning. I'm not the best storyteller in my family."

"That I can do."

"Ursa Sullivan." She picked up her heels and offered her free hand. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Alexandre."

He took it and pressed a kiss on her palm. Then, wrapped her arm around his own. "Would you forgive me if I say I don't remember the names of everyone in the guest list?"

"It's understandable and there's no need to be charming about it. I did come here hoping to speak business with you."

"There will be time for that later." His interest of her has eclipsed any thought of business at the moment. And with the meeting he just came out of, he needed a break.

They made small talk as they walked, or at least what she considered small talk. It wasn't about the weather or the news or even the party happening below. It was about him. It was about her. She asked about what he looked for in paintings and how the process of acquiring them went. She asked of how it felt to walk along halls filled with art every day. Of thoughts that he hadn't visited in a while or even made. She accepted his answers, whatever they may be, prodded and pushed when allowed and listened. She told him of what she would've felt and thought. Told him of what she would've done if she was in his shoes. He watched as she took everything in, from the sights and sounds to their meanings. Her eyes shifting from one emotion to another.

It was interesting to find someone of whom these conversations were easy. Where the distance that was his default was narrowed but ever present. Where it took less effort but with the same engaging and satisfying results.

He wondered what it would be like in a longer run. If she would stay the same or if she would require more as everyone else did. If she would be as entertaining as she was at present. If she would listen enraptured about topics more than art and dancing. If she was or would be as ambitious as he was.

"We're here." He unlocked his office and escorted her inside, not missing her sweeping look and the amazement on her face. He knew the layout of his office like the back of his hand, of course, but her expression brought satisfaction and a surge of power through him.

"Here I thought you're the type that would have a grand self portrait in your office."

"Should I be happy that I didn't fit such expectation?"

"Maybe."

Her eyes were already searching for the painting in question, so he turned her around to where it was. He watched closely as wonder touched her expression and how it softened to fondness.

"This already has a story." Her words bled with affection and her delivery was something he hadn't seen before. "But this is a better rendition than most I've seen. Happier."

"I want to know the story you see."

"Of a Persephone that loved her Hades and was loved in return. Of a winter that is a happy reunion, full of warmth and mutual affection."

He listened as she pointed out the smiles and the bright eyes. He followed her hand with his gaze as she motioned at Hades' loving hold. How Persephone was light amid the darkness, but it didn't mean that she shouldn't be there. If she chose and was happy to be, which was the rendition Ursa liked more, then that's where she would be. Their expressions that of safety, happiness and contentment.

"Why did you choose this as the painting in your office?"

"What do you think?"

"Are you looking for your Persephone?" She gave his hand a pat. "I'm sure you'll find her. Someone that'll accept your Underworld, however dark it is."

He smiled back. Maybe he would see how this would go.

"That's the last of it. Are you able to get full access?"

"No. Guinevere is already in Alexander's office and I can't get visual access from the cameras. It's another separate security system."

"I'm sure I can find something."

"That would be enough. Go back to the floor. Guinevere and Galahad might need backup."

"Noted."

"You little bitch!"

This wasn't how Lucien imagined it to go and so soon. The moment he escorted Ursa out of his office and back to the ballroom, a man barrelled in and pulled her away from him. A very drunk man. His voice loud and words slurred. He attracted gazes and whispers but no one dared to step in.

Ursa's gaze shifted from serenity to rage, without any panic in between. She tried to pull away, only to be dragged even closer to the drunk man.

"You gave me a guarantee, fucking slut. Then you go around offering yourself without any care. Opening your legs to anyone with money. Acting like a virgin when you just stepped out from another fuck!" He shook her, gripping her arm tighter. "So how was this asshole then? Did he fuck you against the wall or on the table? You looking and teasing me all around the mansion like you owned it, letting lechers touch you as if they're already fucking you."

The rage flashed brighter in her gaze and Lucien waited eagerly on what would happen next.

The drunkard opened his mouth again, but before a sound came out, Ursa smashed the heels she still held across his face. She didn't cower, hesitated or shook.

"Do you not know who I am? I know the host and I could drag you to the nearest room to fuck." The drunkard's fury mounted and he lashed back. Hands reaching out for her neck. Lucien blinked and tilted his head. Ursa stepped back, making the drunkard catch her necklace."The host will even encourage me to do so."

Ah. Lucien finally found the name for the face. "Not at all, Mr. Howell."

"What the fuck did you say?" Howell tugged at the necklace and snapped it off.

Against Ursa's pale skin, a streak of red smeared and followed the trail of the snapped necklace. Lucien took a deep breath and followed the smeared line. Fascinated. Compelled. Then he moved, stepping between them and pushing Ursa behind him. The rage in her blue eyes and that red smear against pale skin imprinted in his mind. Yes. Yes. He would definitely see how this would go. How much this Ursa Sullivan had in store. How far she could go.

"I said 'not at all', Mr. Howell." He saw Miss Vox marching to where they were and from another direction was another man with panicked eyes. "I wouldn't allow you to badmouth anyone in such a way and you're making me think that I shouldn't have invited you here at all. Especially, if you don't even remember what your host looks like."

Miss Vox grabbed Howell by the arm and pushed him to the ground. Her eyes looking at Ursa and widening in recognition. A story he would love to know later.

"Thank you, Miss Vox. Can you please pass him off to Guilford? Tell him that I would see to him personally."

"Of course, Mr. Alexandre." She started dragging him across the floor for a few feet before pulling him back up. The crowd parting to let them pass.

"Miss Vox?"

A pause.

"Once that's done, please come to my office."

"Ursa!" The other man Lucien saw broke through the crowd and moved for her. He stepped in between, feeling her tension and her rage bleeding out with adrenaline. "Let me see her."

"Misha." He felt her hand on his arm and turned to her. "He's my cousin."

He nodded and stepped away.

Then stepped away a few more to address his guests. Apologies spilled out as easy as breathing, the right pitch and inflection perfect. His smile the right level of remorse and annoyance, words fitting and well meaning. Each word touching smiles on their faces and the music restarting. By the end of it all, it was like nothing happened but the warning was clear and accepted.

Once the party was restarted, he turned back to the Sullivans as they whispered assurances to each other.

"I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan for such incident. I will make sure to personally attend to Patrick Howell. But for now, let me take care of Ursa. I'll escort her back to my office to see to it."

"I'll come—"

"There's no need. I wish to at least give one of you a chance to mingle and create connections. I'll make sure she's safe." He ended any possible argument by offering a hand to Ursa, making sure that his smile was comforting and tilted in just the right angle. It was an effort, but with how she took his offer with eyes still the color of chipped ice of rage and a tremble just under her skin, it was more than worth it. "Back to my office then."

Her expression shifted and it was so close to that of the painting's. Persephone wanting and content of where she was.