The Criminal

Ch. 14: Behave yourself, babygirl.

For the longest time, we remain rooted in place with only our stares to keep us company. I contemplate saying something else but decide against it in the end. It's best I keep Hunter at arms-length. The less I feel for him, the better.

"Let's go," I suggest, breaking free from his spell. "We wouldn't want to keep the boss waiting."

Hunter nods then—without thinking—loops his arm through mine. I let him walk me towards where a black BMW is parked just outside my apartment. I say nothing as he opens the passenger side door for me, too nervous to speak. I simply slide in and mentally rehearse what I'm going to say to Lowes should he at any point address me tonight. Hunter remains silent the entire time he drives, likely consumed with his own thoughts. Town is busy, which is a given for a Saturday night. Girls in beautiful dresses and high heels wander the streets, looking for their next bar of choice. I notice a group of men smoking by a bus stop, laughing at the expense of their friend who—despite the fact he's still standing—looks as though he's had one too many. Hunter continues to drive away from the bustling city and into the quiet countryside. The open roads and clear sky offer a false sense of security. I fidget in my seat, running through all the scenarios that have the potential to play out this evening. The longer I think, the less I feel prepared.

Eventually, we make a sharp left and approach a set of iron gates. I don't see much beyond that, other than the odd shadow here and tree there. Once given clearance, Hunter crawls along the drive at a respectful five MPH, gifting me a few more precious minutes. I begin to see lights in the distance, all of which appear to be pointing towards a huge castle-like building. I've never been here before, but I assume this is some sort of venue, hired for tonight's celebrations.

"Welcome to Daniel Lowes' very humble abode."

"What?" I ask, gawking. "This is his home?"

"One of many," informs Hunter, pulling to a stop.

A gentleman in high vis approaches the car, prompting Hunter to step out. He immediately gets the door for me, thankfully offering me his hand. Despite my heels, Fiona's dress is still a little too long and I'd hate to make a fool of myself by tripping over it. Our car ride might've been awkward as balls, but I'm willing to accept help when it's needed.

"Thanks."

I take in the full grandeur of Lowes' home and—for the life of me—cannot imagine anyone living here. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful, but do people actually live in these types of places?

"May I offer you a drink?" asks a lady, all smiles.

She's carrying a tray of champagne and I gratefully accept, needing a little something to take the edge off. Hunter follows suit and leads me down a long corridor with the plushest carpet I've ever have the pleasure of walking on. I swear it's made from actual clouds.

"So—umm—are all the mafia bosses millionaires?"

Hunters smirks. "Yup."

"Is your home like this?"

This makes him belly laugh. "Fuck no!"

We follow the noise into a large room, the deco screaming, "I'M FUCKING RICH!" I don't exactly know where I'm at but can only assume this room is for functions exactly like this. The ceilings are tall, and the acoustics are fantastic. A small band plays in the far-left corner, each instrument delightful on the ears.

"So, what's the occasion?" I ask, having to shout to be heard over the many conversations taking place.

I may not be Hunter's biggest fan right now, but in a room full of scary strangers, he's my biggest comfort.