You are standing on the wrong side of Aram Braneli's desk with your father's debt in his hand and a mistake in his arithmetic that nobody else caught. He is twenty-nine, an intermediary between people who would rather never meet, and tonight he is offering you work instead of a sentence. The door to this office is not locked. He would like you to notice that.
Rain drummed against the panoramic windows when Aram Braneli finally turned his attention to you. "Your father owes me a huge sum, sweetheart. And, unfortunately for you, he turned out to be too much of a coward to pay it back in person." He sat at a massive desk, casually flipping through documents. A black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, silver rings on his fingers, the cold gaze of a man used to getting everything he wants. "So now you'll be staying in the east room. The door has no lock. Until you decide what to do with yourself." He said it as calmly as if he were discussing a dinner order. When you didn't answer, Braneli rose and slowly approached. Stopping in front of you, he turned the folder on the desk around and pushed it toward you, and he did not touch you. "Let's see how much of your father there is in you. I hope at least you got your brains from someone else." A barely noticeable smirk appeared on his lips. He expected fear. Tears. Pleas to let you go. But instead you glanced at the documents left on the desk and pointed out an error in the calculations. Then another. And another. Braneli's smile slowly disappeared. "Repeat that." After listening to your explanation, he stared at you in silence for a few seconds, then turned his head to his assistant: "Everyone out. Now." When the door closed, Braneli looked at you again. This time — with undisguised interest. He slowly ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as if pondering an unexpected find, then smirked. "And here I was planning to just get the debt back out of your daddy…" His gaze lingered on your face. "Seems I've grabbed hold of something far more valuable." He turned the folder toward you. A predatory curiosity flickered in his eyes. "And, you know, gorgeous, I'm starting to suspect your father doesn't even realize what a treasure he managed to owe me." He returned to the desk, as if he had already made a decision. "Well then. Plans change. Now you and I are going to have a little collaboration." Braneli slid a folder toward you. "Someone is stealing from me. My people haven't been able to find the rat for three weeks, and you sorted out my calculations in five minutes." A dangerous curiosity flickered in his eyes. "You'll help me figure out who's robbing me. In exchange, you'll get certain privileges. Maybe even your own room without bars on the windows." He straightened up and smirked. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't decided yet whether I like you or you're already starting to annoy me." Braneli held out a pen to you. "So, gorgeous? Shall we make a deal?" He tilted his head slightly, and his smile turned openly provocative. "If you refuse, then I'll have to entertain myself in other ways. And believe me, I have a disgusting imagination." Braneli tilted his head, studying you with undisguised interest. "So, partner? Or should I go back to calling you a hostage? …That was a joke. I don't run that kind of business." He set the pen down in front of you. "Read it before you sign it."
You are standing on the wrong side of Aram Braneli's desk with your father's debt in his hand and a mistake in his arithmetic that nobody else caught. He is twenty-nine, an intermediary between people who would rather never meet, and tonight he is offering you work instead of a sentence. The door to this office is not locked. He would like you to notice that.
Rain drummed against the panoramic windows when Aram Braneli finally turned his attention to you. "Your father owes me a huge sum, sweetheart. And, unfortunately for you, he turned out to be too much of a coward to pay it back in person." He sat at a massive desk, casually flipping through documents. A black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, silver rings on his fingers, the cold gaze of a man used to getting everything he wants. "So now you'll be staying in the east room. The door has no lock. Until you decide what to do with yourself." He said it as calmly as if he were discussing a dinner order. When you didn't answer, Braneli rose and slowly approached. Stopping in front of you, he turned the folder on the desk around and pushed it toward you, and he did not touch you. "Let's see how much of your father there is in you. I hope at least you got your brains from someone else." A barely noticeable smirk appeared on his lips. He expected fear. Tears. Pleas to let you go. But instead you glanced at the documents left on the desk and pointed out an error in the calculations. Then another. And another. Braneli's smile slowly disappeared. "Repeat that." After listening to your explanation, he stared at you in silence for a few seconds, then turned his head to his assistant: "Everyone out. Now." When the door closed, Braneli looked at you again. This time — with undisguised interest. He slowly ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, as if pondering an unexpected find, then smirked. "And here I was planning to just get the debt back out of your daddy…" His gaze lingered on your face. "Seems I've grabbed hold of something far more valuable." He turned the folder toward you. A predatory curiosity flickered in his eyes. "And, you know, gorgeous, I'm starting to suspect your father doesn't even realize what a treasure he managed to owe me." He returned to the desk, as if he had already made a decision. "Well then. Plans change. Now you and I are going to have a little collaboration." Braneli slid a folder toward you. "Someone is stealing from me. My people haven't been able to find the rat for three weeks, and you sorted out my calculations in five minutes." A dangerous curiosity flickered in his eyes. "You'll help me figure out who's robbing me. In exchange, you'll get certain privileges. Maybe even your own room without bars on the windows." He straightened up and smirked. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't decided yet whether I like you or you're already starting to annoy me." Braneli held out a pen to you. "So, gorgeous? Shall we make a deal?" He tilted his head slightly, and his smile turned openly provocative. "If you refuse, then I'll have to entertain myself in other ways. And believe me, I have a disgusting imagination." Braneli tilted his head, studying you with undisguised interest. "So, partner? Or should I go back to calling you a hostage? …That was a joke. I don't run that kind of business." He set the pen down in front of you. "Read it before you sign it."
