Eleanore sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel another headache approaching.
She locked the front door, poured herself another mug of coffee and grabbed her gun from the kitchen counter before walking into her bedroom. It had the same stone whitewashed walls and varnished wooden floorboards as the rest of the apartment and it contained nothing openly unremarkable for a bedroom.
Eleanore ran herself a bath in her en-suite; a steaming hot bath, clouded with vanilla scented oils and promises of rest. Stripping, she climbed in and placed her gun and mug of swirling coffee on the clothes hamper next to her, before lighting another cigarette.
Her head was a mess.
Jean-Luc wanted to see her?
That spelt nothing but bad news, and she'd be damned before she ran off to meet him. If he wanted to speak with her, he could drag his ass out of the swamp and come and see her himself, not send one of his untrained lackeys to do his work for him.
Eleanore sighed and brought the cigarette to her lips.
Her black lips.
They were as silky soft as the rest of her, but black as sin and nighttimes – the same colour as her hair and eyes. She had eyes as black as a raven's, and hair so dark it almost shone blue in the sun; it contrasted strangely with the ghostly pallor of her milk white skin. Yet the overall effect was mystifyingly beautiful. Eleanore had delicately sharp features that were permanently set in a stony mask and a tall feminine body. But behind the pretty face, was a mind that had seen too much, knew too much, for its twenty one years on the planet.
She sighed again. Sweet smelling steam rose from the bath and mingled with the stale stench of the cigarette smoke above her.
What could she do?
Etienne knocked on the heavy oak door in front of him. Before he could change his mind, and scurry back down the corridor, a deep baritone sounded, "Come in."
He swallowed before entering the dimly lit study of Jean-Luc Lebeau. Jean-Luc sat behind an ornately carved desk shuffling papers and smoking a cigar. A half empty tumbler of whisky stood, stagnant on the desk.
"You wanted to see me Etienne?" Jean-Luc reclined in his chair and gestured to one of the plush arm chairs sitting before the desk. "Please, have a seat."
Etienne sat and stared at the carpeted floor.
"Now, petit, tell me what it is you wanted to be talking about. Hmm?"
"Well, y' see sir, it's about the message y' asked m' to deliver to the girl, Ms. Rennison, well, ah, it didn't really go as planned." Etienne was sweating; there was nothing worse then failing a job.
"What do y' mean, 'didn't go as planned'?"
"Well, ah, I told her de message, mais she said she weren't coming." He risked a peek at Jean-Luc, but quickly lowered his gaze once he saw the expression on the older man's face.
"Y' telling me, she ain't coming?"
"Um, oui monsieur."
"Merci for y' time, mais you should be leaving now Etienne."
As soon as Etienne had shut his office door, Jean-Luc picked up his phone and hesitantly dialled the number.
pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaase review? I updated 2 chapters in 1 night! thats a record!