Vikram Kabra was not happy. And bad things happened when Vikram Kabra was not happy. Since that idiot son and daughter of his turned soft and his wife was jailed, he had retreated to one of the few private Lucian strongholds he and Isabel had reserved for themselves- a small underground dwelling in Rio, Brazil.
We could have taken care of it a bit more, he thought looking around at the elegant furniture around him. It was tastefully chosen and had a very high price tag, but maids probably came around there for cleaning only once every few months. The evidence was everywhere from the dust that sat on every wooden and glass surface. Vikram would sooner die that pick up a duster. A knock came from the door, Vikram brushed his hand across his suit-as if there were a single wrinkle in it-and stood. He pushed the button under the end table next to him that unlocked the door.
"Come in," he said. The door opened revealing a plain looking woman on the other side. With a sculpted face, ice blue eyes, and shiny black hair that was in a fashionably short cut, you think she would be a little pretty. But perhaps it was the paper white, almost grayish, skin that had barely ever seen sunlight or the coldness of the ice blue eyes or the thin line that appeared to be painted on her face where her lips should've been that diminished any beauty she would've had. "Madam Karisa, it is a pleasure to see you again."
"Enough small talk," Karisa snapped. "Tell me why you have called me here." She stayed in the doorway, not bothering to step inside the room. She would leave as soon as she received whatever information the Lucian had to offer. Vikram retrieved a small envelop from inside his jacket and held it up for the pale woman to see.
With a sly smile, he said, "I know Demetrius' secret." Madam Karisa tensed ever so slightly.
"I am listening."