LUCY
I arrived five minutes past nine. Not ten, and definitely not fifteen. Just five. Yet, the moment I stepped into Ravenwood Lounge, I felt like I had just broken some kind of silent rule.
It was beautiful here, soft jazz playing in the background, golden lights dripping from the ceiling like honey. The whole place smelled of cigars, money, and violence.
And then I saw him. Lorenzo Carcaterra.
He sat in the farthest corner of the lounge, dressed like he didn't need to impress anyone, but still managed to steal the attention of the room. He was putting on a dark tailored suit with no tie, two buttons undone on his crisp white shirt like he didn't have the time to button them up fully.
Broad shoulders, perfect strong jawline, clean shave. I wasn't a perfect physique commentator, but I'll admit, he had this effortless, sharp look. And it wasn't just about looks alone, it was something in the way he sat.
So relaxed... but dangerous.
People probably crossed the street when they saw this man walking towards them. His presence wasn't loud, but it filled the room. Even the waiter who served his drink was walking on eggshells around him.
I took a breath and walked closer.
The moment I sat down, those cold, unreadable eyes locked on me. "You're late," he said. His voice was deep, smooth, but cold like ice cutting into warm water.
I frowned, sitting upright. "It's five minutes. Just five."
He didn't say another word. Just stared at me like I was wasting his time already.
Before I could say anything else, the man beside him – the one I'd been texting all this time – spoke up. His personal assistant, I guessed. Slim build, neatly dressed, fake smile, expensive watch.
"Miss Parker, we're glad you could make it," the assistant said, covering for his boss's silence. "Let's get to the point."
"Finally," I muttered.
The assistant folded his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly like we were having coffee on a lazy afternoon. "Mr. Carcaterra has been accused of destroying a government property, an old warehouse recently purchased by the city council."
"Let me guess," I said, folding my arms. "It wasn't him."
"Of course not," the assistant answered smoothly. "It was sabotage. Someone trying to ruin his reputation… or worse."
"And this… someone," I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do you happen to know who they are?"
The assistant smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Miss Parker, when you operate in the underground world… you collect enemies like dust on a shelf. Half of them, you don't even know their names."
I glanced at Lorenzo. He was watching me quietly, with those eyes that looked like they were studying me like I was a puzzle he hadn't finished yet.
"So," I asked slowly, turning back to the assistant, "what exactly do you want me to say in court?"
He smiled, like I just asked the perfect question he was waiting for. "We want you to say that Mr. Carcaterra was busy in a business meeting on that day. He didn't know about the attack until the news broke the next morning. The rest, I believe, you can handle."
"Hmm," I hummed, tapping my fingers lightly on the table.
Something about all of this didn't sit right with me. Maybe it was how quiet Lorenzo was. Maybe it was how my instincts kept screaming that this was more dangerous than I thought.
But I'd already said yes.
I glanced at Lorenzo's face again, biting gently on my bottom lip. I knew that face. Somewhere, somehow, I'd seen it before. But every time I tried to catch the memory, it slipped away like smoke between my fingers.
"I'll help you." I agreed.
His assistant nodded.
"But... I'm only doing this because of Mr. Clarke," I finally said. "And this will be the last. After this, I don't want my name anywhere near you people."
The assistant gave a small nod. "Understood, Miss Parker. No pressure, just one case. It's a deal."
"Good," I replied.
The tension in my shoulders dropped a little. Not much, just a little.
When it was all done, Lorenzo stood up first. He looked taller than I imagined. Followed after was his assistant, before myself. "Thanks for honouring this meeting," said his assistant as he stretched his hand at me. "It's a pleasure to work with you."
"Same here," I said, returning the handshake.
"I hope this case ends with justice," He said. "Nevertheless, I believe in you, Miss Parker."
I forced a smile. "I don't turn down my clients."
My eyes mistakenly darted to Lorenzo, and he stared back at me. Has he been staring at me the whole time? I wouldn't say I loved how quiet he was the whole time, or maybe somehow, I had indirectly wanted to hear him talk. Either way, it terrified me.
His calm demeanor felt even weirder. The kind of man who probably knew fifty different ways to kill a person and still choose silence instead.
"Let me give you a lift," he said.
I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm fine. I'll take a cab."
"Suit yourself," he replied coldly. Not angrily, just emotionless, like the whole thing didn't matter either way.
I watched as he buttoned his suit jacket lazily, preparing to leave, then he surprised me by leaning closer. Close enough that I caught a faint scent of something sharp and expensive, like leather mixed with smoke and something I couldn't place.
"Don't bother trying to figure me out," he whispered low, so only I could hear. "No matter how hard you try, you won't get my real identity."
Then he straightened up and walked away like a shadow fading into the city.
And I just stood there, stuck
between curiosity and regret, wondering what in God's name I had just signed myself up for.