Chapter 22 - Elias Blackwell

THREE MONTHS LATER

Three months. That was all Elias Blackwell needed to land himself upon New Jersey's most elite group of wealthy and successful individuals.

Or rather, individuals who possessed hand me down wealth. Elias? Self-made to the very last bone. He was the man that would bring fruit the painstaking labors of what it meant to murder and underestimate a young boy. That young boy, now a ruthless man who would sacrifice his soul until ugly truths unveiled.

Every single last one of them. He would stop at nothing. Stop at bloodshed wringing victory.

That victory was so close and just beneath arms reach. Tonight was the night that would change everything for gain or for loss. The both of them had to play their cards right. They needed the support of the most powerful man in New Jersey who stood mere steps away. He was close but far and surrounded by all eyes and ears.

"Senator Visalyaputra! Long time no see! I've seen what you done with the charity collaboration. It was truly magnificent," Harry beamed at the senator.

'Pompous toothpick'. Meet Harry Plaskitt, a pompous toothpick in Elias's ass who spent his days on hand me down wealth. He chased skirts and often, took skirts without consent. Harry was one of his competitors. One of the far easier ones to take down but still a pain in the ass because he hated Elias ever since they crossed paths. Understandably so, since he did take a grand amount of his dirty fortune.

The senator regarded him with disinterest.

"Thanks. Ah, excuse me and you are?"

Another man that stood next to the senator nodded at Harry. "Sir. He's the man who aided you in Jersey's grand celebration in North Arlington. Ahem! Plaskitt's son."

"Ah, Plaskitt's son," he finally beamed back with a bright smile. "I remember you now. If I recall, you were one of the men running to be a part of my committee, were you not?"

"That's right! I hope you can consider me as it would put me at a great advantage... I-I mean, choosing me will prosper our state's prospects."

Elias could intervene but patience was virtue. The iron has yet to be hot. Striking now would be good enough but more than good enough was what he needed. He needed swift and deadly.

"Not going in?" a familiar and unexpected voice asked. "Come on, the competition's lookin' fire. A bunch of animals seizing in for the kill! You'll lose your opportunity if you don't act soon my friend."

"Friend?" Elias questioned him. "I don't remember being friends with you. Please don't lump me into something I am not."

"That's harsh but you're wrong. We're alike in many ways... Tis true! Both wolves blinded by our goals."

"Wolves don't blindly charge in. They prey. They wait. Then they attack when the time is right," he muttered, turning to face him dead in the eyes. "Why are you here? You don't belong."

"We both don't belong. That didn't stop you. It won't stop me either. Don't worry. I'm just here to enjoy the show so relax D—"

"Elias."

"Pardon me, Elias. Ha! Really that name doesn't suit you. You look more like a Franco, Adam, and..."

The irksome fellow beside Elias, Leonardo Duval, continued to list names one by one. Elias didn't pay attention. He didn't curse him either. This man was the devil. Cursing would not do his soul any justice. The only reason he tolerated Leo was because he held Elias's secrets. Leo held his promises.

Together they were no more than two men with hidden agendas, neither friend or foe. But Leo was almost too calculating. Too cold for them to be grouped as alike. Wolves, maybe. But Leo was on a far cynical standard than Elias. He believed Leo did not possess an ounce of human.

Elias leaned against the wall and took in the large sparkling white chandelier hanging over the ceiling.

What did people find amusing about these grand over the top parties? The food even at its finest, tasted bland. Women were bland as well. They were too fake with their barbie doll makeup and designer dresses. This kind of high end and well bred society and it's atmosphere were simply distasteful compared to his desolate cabin.

A waitress walked past them and immediately Elias knew she had her eyes set on either him or Leo. She panned between them repeatedly. Drool threatened to leak out the side of her lips. Her gaze lowered to see what they had to offer. Leonardo Duval, stood beside Elias in a crisply cut oxford blue suit. He radiated slick black blue hair and hazel eyes which in turn made the waitress fall into his charms at a puddle of their feet.

The waitress wasn't overly attractive but still, Elias found her body more than a curvy fit inside his arms. The thing was, he didn't want her. Hell he hadn't wanted anyone since that night. Elias was becoming a monk and it was all because of her.

All because she ruined him for good.

"Would you men like a glass of wine?"

Elias extended out his hand to take a wine glass, blatantly ignoring her suggestive eyes. He looked over to Leo who stepped over to her side in mere seconds.

"It seems like the show must go on without me," Leo purred toward the waitress, slipping an arm under her waist. "Let me know later, how the introductions went."

The two of them walked out of eyesight and blended in among the crowd.

"Looks like it's just you and me. Women here aren't to my tastes like you are anyway," he mumbled to no one but the wine glass twirled around his fingertips.

Elias twirled the glass of wine within his fingertips, watching the blood red color form into a familiar silhouette.

Into her.

He remembered her body vividly. Every curve and sensitive spot. The way her petite and slender form perfectly molded to his caresses and kisses. Through the imaginary reflection, she wore that same color of blood wine. Slowly, he tipped the glass into his mouth and looked forward to where he saw the illusion, only to have his breath utterly taken away.

Was it his eyes playing tricks on him? The universe was cruel because some gut feeling told him that it was no illusion from the wine glass.

There she stood among the crowd next to Senator Visalyaputra. Her looks and stature appeared the same as in his memories. Instead of that soiled wedding dress or his baggy clothes, she was primed beautifully and clad in a scantily red high low dress that touched the marble flooring. Elias couldn't believe his eyes so he simply stared, wishing and praying that the sight would forever be burned into his memory.

Then he felt something inside of him sting.

It really was her, but not alone. Her hand was encircled under another man's arm. She was smiling a warm smile he'd never seen before, at another man. Gazing into that other man's eyes with utmost adoration and respect. Perhaps, her husband. He looked like the dashing prince out of a fairy tale. One that suited her right. Elias could never suit the prince of her fairy tale.

He flagged down another waitress for a drink. Something stronger this time, as to numb the stinging that inflamed his insides.