23. Dragons

Chapter 23

Dragons

E veryone knows that even the most carefully calculated plans often go awry. If any piece of the puzzle gets ruined or destroyed, then the entire picture is ruined. That's the thing with puzzles; each piece is perfectly shaped to fit into another.

Rigid planning has never been my strong suit. I prefer to improvise as I go. It allows the pieces to my puzzle to be made of plaster rather than steel.

Malleable. Adaptable. Flexible.

Leaning against my office chair, I scan the three computer monitors Zoella installed on my desk. If my puzzle was made of steel, I'd be choked that The Council opted for a virtual conference call rather than an in-person meeting. I was hoping they'd all come back into the city. My father included. But the bastard refuses to return despite accepting the invitation to today's meeting. He never attends. He must be itching to find out what his dearest daughter decided.

I'll get him here. One way or another .

"Everything's ready to go on my end," Zoey says, sitting in the chair across from me, only a sliver of her young face visible between the monitors as she clacks away on her keyboard. "You ready, Cami?"

"Yeah." I check the time and whip out my cellphone. "Let the games begin," I mutter, dialing Malik's number.

A groggy, rough voice greets me with a drawn out, "Hello?"

"I've made up my mind," I state, remarkably calm.

"And with a day left," Malik chuckles, letting out a hoarse cough. "Am I speaking to the future Mrs. Alba? How joyous of a night."

I roll my eyes. "You wish."

"Ah, so you have decided to crawl in bed with a dragon then." He laughs again. "Beware, I hear they can breathe fire."

"I'm not afraid of a little ember," I say with a sigh. "Tell Wei Zhao that an Angel has landed, will ya?"

"I'll call him right away," Malik says, unable to hide the giddiness in his voice. I'd be doing cartwheels too if I landed a seven-figure deal. "I'll make sure he's in touch soon."

"Excellent," I say, chewing on my lip. "When's the big event, Alba?"

"Couple weeks," he replies, clearing his throat. "I'll send a file to your assistant with location and time for when the east meets the west."

I scowl. "I've said yes. It's done."

"I need a final confirmation from both parties, Camilla," Malik says apologetically. "Fear not, last I spoke to Zhao he was quite eager. Like a baby puppy. "

"That's redundant, Alba," I sigh, closing my eyes. "Puppies are babies."

"You want to be my baby?" he teases in a sickening tone. "Huh?"

I snort, "If I recall correctly, you're the one who likes to suck on pacifiers, not me."

Malik clears his throat. "I have an oral fixation, you know this."

"I sure do." I cringe, trying to forget our dirty night together. Never again. "I gotta go now. Send me the details as soon as possible, okay?"

"Yes, Mommy," he coos in a taunting tone, and I immediately hang up.

"You look like you're going to be sick," Zoey notes, observing my wincing expression from behind the monitors. "Need some water?"

"More like a time machine," I say, straightening out my posture as Zoella connects to the encrypted server and fires up the video.

"Ready?" she whispers. "You got this, Cami. You can do it."

"I'm ready," I mutter as Enzo, Moe, Marco, Leo, my father and the other members of The Council appear across the monitors. My stomach churns with anxiety as I greet the lot. "Good evening everyone. Thanks for joining me. I know it was a little last minute."

"Two meetings in two months?" Moe chides, frowning. "Christ, women like to talk, huh? It's a pandemic, just like my wife."

"Which one?" I ask, raising a combative brow. Moe's eyes widen and he shuts up real quick. I scan the monitors, my gaze landing on my father. Anger spikes in my veins, but I conceal it. I must. "Hello, Daddy."

"Bambina," he says with a smile. "You look beautiful as ever."

"Thanks." I let out an airy scoff. Fuckass. "Alright, let's get straight to it, huh? I'm sure you all have better things to do."

"The floor is yours," Leo pipes up with a grin. "Lay it on us, Mils."

I grit my teeth. Fuckass 2.0. "I've called you all here today to inform you that the deal with Alba and his men is secured for the end of the month."

"Secured?" Enzo, Zoey and Leo's father, hums in a dubious tone. "It is done? Truly?"

"I'm not finished." I shoot him frigid daggers. Fuckass 3.0. "As I was saying, the deal with Alba is secured, however ?—"

"See!" Moe exclaims. "I knew she couldn't?—"

"Mute them all," I instruct Zoey as I clench my fist.

Moe's mouth continues to move as frustration brims from his decaying head, but at least I'm not going to be interrupted again.

"From now on, if someone has something to say you will raise your hand like a child, understand? And not until I am done speaking." Sweeping the screens, I'm met with sluggish nods. "Great."

I clear my throat and continue. "Establishing a partnership with Alba proved to be more difficult than any of us anticipated. He had demands, ones I've taken time and consideration to digest, and ultimately, I came to the conclusion that the best course of action would be to form an alliance with The Dragons."

My jaw clenches as each member of The Council, including my father, begins to protest. God bless the mute button. I suppress a laugh. It's kind of funny.

"Kindly shut up and listen to me," I demand, keeping my voice stern. "As we all know The Dragons are gaining momentum at an alarming rate. Marco's last territory sweep has confirmed that Wei Zhao has no plans to stay in his lane. As your leader, I have zero intention to start hustling down. We're classier than that, right?" A few nods. "If we partner with Zhao, we'll be able to avoid a lot of bloodshed as long as we market our products to different crowds. Less bloodshed means fewer eyes." My hard gaze floats across the screens. "Any questions?"

Nearly every hand spikes into the air and I roll my eyes.

"Moe."

"This is a bad idea?—"

"Mute him," I tell Zoey. "Next?" I cross my arms, adding, "I said questions, not comments. This decision is mine alone, you are here to merely consult. If you don't like my leadership style, wait until the annual meeting." I grin to myself. As if they'll last a year. "Or feel free to come down to the city and talk to me directly." I tilt my head. "Well? Questions?" My father raises his hand. "Yes, Daddy?"

He twists his lips in thought before he asks, "Are we splitting profits?"

"No," I reply. "We each get our shipment. No revenue lost. "

He nods, impressed. "I have no more questions then. Cash is cash." His gaze circles the screens. "Anything else, gentlemen, or can my daughter go and enjoy her Friday night?"

Leo raises his hand.

"What, Leo?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"When the deal goes down..." He clears his throat, a twinge of fear in his tone. "How many men will you bring? Do we have enough? Do we need to hire more bodies?"

"Frankie?" I ask, finding his face. He's not an official member. Just a foot soldier. But he knows everything. He's always involved when money trades hands. "I'll need eight men. Maybe more. I'll keep you updated once Alba sends me the specs."

"Sure thing, princess," Frankie says with a warm smile. Fake. All of them. "No problem."

"Good," I say. "Well, I'll keep you all updated. Zoey will send minutes later today for your reference."

"Good job, kid." My father flashes me a crooked grin as he holds up a cocktail to the camera. "Proud of you. To Camilla."

"Thanks, Daddy." I smile, disconnecting the call. I grab the half-drunken martini on my desk and toast to a black screen. "And to your demise."

"That went better than I thought it would," Zoey whispers in a timid tone. "I'm surprised my father—" he swallows, "—didn't say anything."

"Your father is my father's pawn," I say, a faint flutter of guilt in my heart for what we're planning to do. "He made his bed, Zoey. What do you want me to say? "

"I don't know." She gives me a lifeless shrug. "I just... I don't like the idea of him in jail. It's not fair. He's not... I mean he's not always..."

"Life's not fair, Zoey," I state in a gentle tone. "You know it's not. You've seen what life is like in our family, haven't you? Is that what you want?"

"No," she whispers as my phone rings. "I guess not."

I check the caller ID. "It's blocked. Who is it?"

"One sec." She checks her laptop monitor, jerking her head to my cellphone. "It's registered to a Hazel Qian."

"Typical," I say, answering the call. "Hello?"

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Camila," a low, male voice replies. "You exist."

"Zhao," I hum, leaning back into the chair. "Using your girlfriend's phone? Come on now, how unoriginal."

He snorts. "I'm impressed. How'd you know?"

"My world has eyes," I say. "You want in?"

"What changed?" he asks, sniffing around for the scent of something shady. "My fiancée informed me weeks ago you were not interested in an alliance."

"Well, perhaps if you came yourself, this deal would've already happened," I retort flatly. "It's all about respect, isn't it, Zhao?"

"I could not agree more," he says with an eerie tone. "I take respect very seriously."

"I guess we have one thing in common after all," I say. "So? You're in?"

"Yes." He pauses. "But..."

I snort. "But? Really?"

"There is always a but, isn't there, Camilla?" he taunts. "As I said, I take respect very seriously, but loyalty is equally important to The Dragons."

"Loyalty?" I repeat.

"Yes," he says. "Before I give Malik my final answer, I need to know you will be loyal to us."

"And how will I do that, Zhao?" I ask. "Loyalty's hard to measure in our business, we both know that."

"Tomorrow," he says. "Meet me at Lulu's Diner. The basement. I have a task for you."

I raise a brow. "A task?"

"Bring your gun," he says. "Make sure it's loaded."

"I'm not going to kill for you," I scoff.

"What better way to test one's loyalty than to bond over spilled blood?" He lets out a coarse laugh. "Show up or don't, but that will determine my answer."

"Who's the mark?" I ask, conflict battering against my ribcage.

"We have a rat problem," he divulges. "Need an exterminator."

I shake my head. "Sounds more like an in-house job.”

Fuckers.

"If you want my house to be your house," he says. "Then you'll do it."

I chew on my lip. Plaster pieces once again. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"At midnight," he adds. "Come alone."

I snort. "To Chinatown? Unlikely. I'll bring men. Don't worry, you won't know where they are."

At least he'll think I have protection.

"You don't trust me," he observes.

"And you don't trust me. "

He laughs. "See? We need this. For both our sakes."

"See you tomorrow," I say, hanging up. I dial a new number, letting out a long, terrified breath. "Hayden?"

"How'd it go?" he asks.

"We have a problem."

"Big?"

"Life-threatening."