"The usual please, Miss Iona. Put it on my tab," he said to the barwoman, refusing to acknowledge the dark-haired woman next to him. The dark-skinned server behind the bar with beefy arms, a manly crewcut and a barrelled chest snorted haughtily and nodded in silence as they turned around and scoured the shelves for an aged bottle for him.
"Your 'tab', is twenty-million in the red," the woman continued.
Liam rolled his eyes and scoffed, rolling his sleeves up as the bartender walked back, scotch in hand, stubby fingers already positioned over Liam's glass, ready to pour. The woman suddenly shot the bartender a stern glare. "Don't, Iona."
The barkeep froze, a look of fear running across their face, before placing the bottle down and standing with their arms pinned behind their back. Liam scoffed and pulled at his face. "Fine, I'll do it myself," Liam snarled as he pushed himself off from his seat and meandered his way behind the bar. He snatched the bottle and took great pleasure in looking the lady in the eye as he guzzled it down whole. She hardly even blinked.
"A twenty-million pound debt is nothing to scoff about."
"You sound like my ex-wife."
"Perhaps she was speaking sense."
Liam plonked back onto his chair. Suddenly, Liam felt the woman's hands delicately grasp his, her nimble fingers gently rubbing backwards and forwards over his knuckles. "You've gambled away eight-million over the last two nights alone, barely making even a fraction of that amount back in the week and a half that you’ve been here. May I ask why you're so determined to let your life slip through your fingers?"
"And who are you to lecture me on how I spend my money?" Liam felt the urge to snatch his hands away but, as he’d turned around, he momentarily locked gazes her, instantaneously feeling something akin to his soul getting swallowed whole as he stared into those damned pupils of hers.
STOP.
Almost instantly his arms had become like stones, rigid and unmoving and swaying in the air uselessly. He stared up at the woman in horror. There she was, deadpan and unflinching, just staring at him like he was a curious puppy rather than a man. Her lips hadn’t even moved yet he was certain that he’d heard her voice in his mind.
What was even more haunting was the subtle twitch at the corners of her mouth as she snapped her fingers. Suddenly, all the patrons inside the casino sprung to attention, eyes dead and backs ramrod straight. Another click and they were filing out of the dimly lit room, two by two, with the waiters snatching up cups and glasses with lightning speed, while the the bunny-suited entertainers did the same, albeit with the cards. In a mere matter of moments the room was barren, with not even a speck of dust out of place. Liam eyes darted around in anxious curiosity.
“Wh-Who... Who are you?”
He still couldn't move his limbs as he heard soft footsteps sound in the background. Though he couldn't actually crane his neck round to see who were the owners, he could hear gentle, even, female breaths coming from each of them. He shook in fear as the woman crouched onto one knee, her eyes staring intently. “My name, Mr Tucker, is Ms. Deverne. But, seeing as I am interested in doing some business with you, I will allow you to call me Lucine if you’d like. I’d like to wish you a belated welcome to my establishment.”
Liam gasped audibly as Deverne returned his ability to move and speak. HIs body crumpled to the ground as he watched the females, three of them he counted, circled around him.
"N-no, get the f*ck away from me!" he shrieked as he backed away on his palms.
"Relax, Liam. We're all friends here, albeit the fact we don't know each other too well yet. As I said, I just want to do some business with you."
“B-Business?" His breathing was hot and laborious as he stared up into the four new faces above him. "Y-You’re Ms. Deverne?”
"Indeed, Mr. Tucker. And these three, well they'll be of service to you until our little deal is complete."
"W-What deal? You're crazy!"
Deverne smirked as she grabbed the first woman that'd by the shoulders, ignoring Tucker's comments for the moment. "This here," she said as she pointed out the ditzy looking blonde standing on the left side, clad in a frilled pink blouse and a cute but skimpy white skirt, "...is Butch. She will handle all the needs you may need from a personal assistant. Calls, emails, texts, she can do all of them. Even coffee rounds aren't off limits."
"Oui, I make a killer chamomile tea, Monsieur," she chirped in a cheery Parisian accent as she giggled excitedly and waved. Liam meekly waved back from the ground.
"Moving on," Deverne said as her hands came down hard onto the shoulders of an almost identical clone of Butch. He watched as the raven-haired girl, wearing a baggy army jacket and heavy combat boots with black nails and an equally dark demeanour, grumbled in silent protest. "This lovely ray of sunshine," Deverne began as she gripped her chin, shaking it side-to-side much to her behest, "...Is Cuddles. Trust me, that name suits her more than it'd seem; she acts all tough but she's a big softie on the inside." Cuddles stuck her tongue out as Deverne chuckled at her expense.
Liam nodded. Though he was still sceptical about the strange hotel owner and her lackeys, he couldn't help his curiosity at the whole affair. Obviously this Deverne figure had more to her than just aesthetic beauty. Heck, with the power she seemed to exude Liam wasn't even sure he'd be able to make a run for it even if an opportunity presented itself. If she did want to do business as she'd said she had, Liam a feeling that there would be no mention of negotiation from his end.
Instead he resigned himself mentally to whatever the enigmatic Ms. Deverne had in store for him; hell, having three women to do whatever he wanted with would've been an offer he'd be slow to refuse even despite the circumstances. He slowly levered himself off from the ground, brushing down the dust that'd settled on the sleeves of his suit jacket. After he'd cleaned himself up slightly his eyes came to rest on third of Deverne's little trio. "W-Who's the last one?" he asked.
"I see I've peaked your interest," Deverne smiled. "This here, Mr. Tucker, is Bobby. Don't get too used to seeing that face specifically; our friend wears too many to be satisfied with the same one everyday. For now at least, you can be sure to know him as your bodyguard. Until both of our goals are completely satisfied he, and all his assorted personalities, are at your full disposal. Do with him what you want."
Him?, Liam thought as he sized up the female in font of him. Sure, she was a bit tall for a woman with far more muscle than Liam had seen prior , but there was no mistaking the feminine build and...assets held inside the tight black sports bra above her toned chest. If she was a man, hell, he was the Queen of bloody England! Jokes aside, he struggled to see why he would need a bodyguard in the first place or even how a pretty lady like her would do much to protect him if worst came to worst.
"This is who you pass of as a bodyguard? Please, no offence to you Madam, but I've seen tuna skeletons with more muscle than..." Liam's sentence was cut short as he felt Bobby grab underneath his shoulder and pivot with alarming speed, sweeping his leg before sending him careening through the air and slamming into the ground. Liam groaned, winded and humiliated into submission.
"What do you think of my bodyguarding abilities now, b*tch?" she...he roared,
"More...than...adequate," Liam wheezed as he stumbled back onto his feet. He coughed as he returned to his barstool.
The rest of the women had a giggle at his expense before Deverne shushed them firmly. "The fact is," Deverne said, her heels clacking as she returned to her stool, "You used to be quite the important man, Liam: an upstanding member of society, adored by charities, respected by men. One tiny scandal at a gala you organised for your friend, what, nine bloody years ago and now look at you! The man that was Liam Tucker is dead, replaced by this husk wearing his face and sullying his name."
Liam scoffed. "So what? I am finished. Do you know the extent of the damage that gala did to me? What those f*cktard burglars did to my reputation? My ex-wife, Fiona, filed for divorce on the same day they were caught, taking half of everything I owned, everything I worked my arse off for for decades, away from me! So yes, maybe it'd be better if that version of me really was dead."
Deverne rolled her eyes and steepled her fingers. "I've heard many stories about you, Mr Tucker. Not all of them paint you in the most generous light, mind you, but most talk of how you're intellectual curiosity and willingness to take a gamble for the greater good make you a very exciting man to cut a deal with. I say this because I still see that, I see that you can still make your mark on the world." She jabbed her index into his chest for extra emphasis.
"What I'm offering you is a clean slate, a chance to start all over again, to rebuild the Tucker brand from the ground up."
Liam stared into his hands for a moment. The silence in the room was deafening. Suddenly, Liam's hand shot out and he snatched the bottle of scotch from the bar counter. The three-and-a-half women watched as Liam gulped the rest of its contents down before smacking his lips proudly and wiping his maw clean. "What do you need?" he asked, the hint of a smile on his face.
Deverne grinned and leaned in close. "I need you to help me plan a gala."
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