A Price to be Paid

Why, to enjoy the city of lights, of course, or is it love?

Elisa squinted her eyes as the blinding sunlight shone through the plane window. She woke up and grabbed her phone from the table in front of her and grunted.

"Why do they say beauty sleep when we clearly wake up looking like trolls?" she mumbled.

Removing the suffocating seat belt she got up trying to maintain her balance. She made her way across the empty but well-furnished plane and made her way to the bathroom.

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She got off the plane and quickly made through the airport and was escorted to the hotel. She shut her eyes and attacked the warm bed. She never felt so free, in so long. She sighed and soon fell fast asleep.

She woke up later that evening, tired and surly. She reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and went to take a hot shower. Her tense muscles relaxed under the warmth of the boiling water and gave her a sense of ease. She dressed up, in a comfortable manner, in jeans and a top, pulled her hair into a ponytail, grabbed her keys and was out of the door.

She drove out into the city. Paris. Light filled the place from almost ever corner and edge her eyes were able to see and the atmosphere was joyous. A luxury she rarely ever had. She stopped near the first bar that caught her eye and dashed inside trying to keep away the biting frost. Her humongous coat didn't seem to be doing a very good job. She walked over to a corner of the bar, sat there and removed her coat. She ordered the strongest drink they had there and drunk to her joy, over and over again. 

The alcohol very quickly kicked into her. Her mood instantaneously lifted and soon, the woman who we so far knew as grave and stern started to count the stars by looking at a false ceiling above her. She then engaged in a romantic conversation with the bar stool beside her then felt it was high time to give a full on french kiss to the counter. A man lifted her head and held her firm by her shoulders, careful to be decent.

"Mademoiselle, je pense que vous avez bu un peu trop. Avez-vous besoin d'aide pour rentrer à la maison?" He asked. His voice was gentle and charming.
"Oui" she said drowsily "Oui, oui, je vais bien, je na'is jamais ete mieux! She exclaimed, a lazy smile drawing up on her face, lighting it up.
"Wait, Mademoiselle? Do I seriously look that old" she frowned like a small kid throwing a tantrum.
"No, not really, not at all actually". He assured. He just realized how beautiful she really was and how intimidating she looks. 

"Did you just speak in english?" 

"Yes"

"Oh good, so there's a way for us to communicate properly, Oui?"

"Yes" "It's quite late, do you not need to head home?"

"Head home to what? The walls?" She laughed at her own joke. "There's no one who say anything to me!" "Nothing to be scared of, no sir!"

"Is that so?" "Why are you here?" he inquired

"How thick are you? People often come to bars to drink and so here I am!"

"No, I meant, in Paris? "Do you live here?"

"Why, to enjoy the city of lights, or is it love, of course" she exclaimed satisfied with her answer. He let out low chuckle. 

"Who are you Miss?" He asked, amused and high. 

"Er, Elisa"

"Nice to meet you Elisa" he said extending his hand. 

She reached out for it and with that toppled over her stool and fell on her face toward the bar floor. 

"Hey, who said we couldn't invent the classy floor hug to greet people!" She mumbled and with that she fell unconscious.

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She woke up startled to the pain from her pounding headache. She sat up straight. She stunk of last night's alcohol and wasn't doing any better with her alarming hangover. She slowly and unwillingly rehearsed the events of last night and cringed at the thought of behavior. She started to think of the man who she had met it last night but dropped it as the thought entered her head.

She grabbed her phone and ordered a few pills to keep her straight and going for the day. She got up and went over to the mini kitchen to make herself a coffee. She took a sip and spluttered.

"Jesus Christ, that's terrible!"

Her every muscle ached and she swayed lightly. The alcohol probably still hasn't completely rubbed off.  She got dressed and appointed a chauffeur to drive her knowing well she wasn't exactly in the appropriate conditions to travel alone. 

She reached the Knight's Enterprises, branch in Paris. Out of every other branch her company had, this one was the wealthiest, this one has the most illegally obtain Income tax raid reports. Elisa knew they had proof, because they were a part of the board of directors, it would have been a relatively easy task to obtain them, provided they had approached in the right way. However, the question now is to either demolish them or make them null and void. She needs to find an alternative to hide every illegal report and transaction that took place within the company. To get completely rid of the money is not possible. That means losing over 30% of what she owns. Elisa needs to mask the truth and provide them a white sheet of the company's history without giving away, what's deep inside. 

She ordered her staff to appoint her a new lawyer and to get her a cheque book. She signed her name and the company's legally registered details to a sum of 5 million pounds to 5 governmental charity organisation of the UK. And then followed by 3 million euros, once again to 5 governmental charity organisation within France. She ordered for the transaction to be done individually in different banks in small amounts in different days. She ordered for this work to be done in 5 days. 

Her staff stared at her dumbfounded. She was never known to be charitable and sum like this? Never. Why the sudden hospitality and charity? However, they knew better than to speak against her and left nodding their head without uttering a word. 

"Oh and Jules" She addressed the man to whom she had given the cheque to. "A really important event in my life had recently happened and hence the charity fund. Its on the purpose of a special occasion really and make sure to spread the word to the employees about their pay rise by today in their bank account. It is the 1st of November isn't it? She said, her voice sweeter then honey but as fake as fake can get. 

"Y, yes yes Mademoiselle. I will. Merci, merci beaucoup!" Jules said astonished and then trotted away. 

She soon made arrangements for the pay rise to the employees of England and France as promised. She was careful to to deceive the minds of the people who questioned why she is doing this into thinking something major has happened. 

She was just trying to mask the money.

But she knew it was hopeless if they had big sums of evidence. She made strict orders for the details of the company to stay hidden until ordered by her.

She needed another plan. She needed something massive. That was when she considered Mr Reign's advice. 

It was against her better judgement but seemed to be the safest option she had. To go meet the man who never showed himself. The only man who could change the turn of events. 

This was the richest man of the British Empire. This was Mr Richard Allen-Buckley. 

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Author's Note 

So this is it guys. We are entering the story to its full. We are now at the top of that roller coaster and we're about to go way down real quick. Keep hanging on. I thought her bar rendezvous was sweet. You?

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All my love 

                    -Alvera Perez