Poisonous Water
The living room smelled like expensive leather and cigars.
Rider sat in his usual chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of scotch in his hand. Ronald occupied the couch across from him, leaning back with the ease of someone who'd been here many times before.
Leena sat beside Rider on the loveseat, her posture perfect, her hands folded in her lap. She wore a simple black dress—elegant, understated. The kind of thing Rider preferred when they had company.
Hela stood near the window, arms crossed, watching the street below.
"Fucking divorce lawyers," Ronald muttered, swirling his drink. "Bella walked away with half of everything. Half. Do you know how much that is?"
Rider chuckled. "I can imagine."
"No, you really can't." Ronald's jaw tightened. "She took the house in Malibu. The investment accounts. Even the goddamn art collection. My lawyer said I was lucky she didn't go after the business."
"She probably didn't know about the business," Ronald said. "Not the real one, anyway. Still. It's a fucking insult." Ronald drained his glass and set it down hard on the side table. "I gave her everything. A life most women would kill for. And this is how she repays me."
Rider shrugged. "Women leave. It happens. You'll make it back."
"I know I will." Ronald's expression shifted, the anger fading into something colder. "I'm already working on it."
Leena stayed silent. She'd learned that was best during these conversations. Rider didn't want her input. He wanted her presence.
Ronald's gaze drifted to her, lingering on the curve of her neck, the way the dress clung to her body.
"Speaking of which," Ronald said casually, "can I borrow Leena tonight? I've got the penthouse to myself. Thought it might be nice to have some company."
Leena's stomach tightened, but she didn't react. Didn't move.
Rider glanced at her, then back at Ronald. "Not tonight."
Ronald raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You've shared before."
"I know. But I need her fresh this weekend." Rider's hand moved to Leena's thigh, possessive. "I've got something big planned."
"How big?"
"Big enough." Rider leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "I'm starting my own firm. Real estate development, investment consulting—legitimate fronts for the real business. I've been building connections for years, and now I've got the capital to make it happen."
Ronald whistled low. "That's ambitious."
"It's necessary. I'm tired of operating in the shadows. This way, I control everything—the money, the clients, the leverage." Rider's smile widened. "And this weekend, I'm pitching the idea to my biggest investors."
"What's the pitch?"
"A party. Private, exclusive. I'm setting up a glory hole session—large scale, multiple rooms. The investors get to enjoy themselves while I lay out the business plan. It's experiential marketing."
Leena felt her body go cold.
Gloryhole.
She'd heard Rider mention it before, but always in passing. Always as something theoretical.
Now it was real.
Ronald laughed. "You're going to pitch a business plan during an orgy?"
"Why not? They'll be relaxed, satisfied, in the right headspace. And they'll associate that feeling with me, with my brand." Rider's hand squeezed Leena's thigh. "Plus, it shows them what I can provide. Access. Discretion. Quality."
"And Leena's part of the quality?"
"She's the centerpiece." Rider looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Aren't you, sweetheart?"
Leena nodded. Her throat was too tight to speak.
Ronald grinned. "Well, shit. I'm almost jealous I'm not one of your investors."
"You could be. If you're interested."
"Maybe. Let me think about it."
Rider stood, stretching. "Hela, get us some water from the kitchen."
The words were casual. Offhand.
But Hela froze.
She turned slowly, her expression carefully blank. "Water?"
"Yeah. We're all thirsty." Rider didn't even look at her. He was already turning back to Ronald, gesturing as he spoke. "The key is diversification. I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket. Real estate is the anchor, but I'm branching into—"
Hela walked toward the kitchen.
Her movements were smooth. Controlled.
But inside, something cracked.
Get us some water.
Like she was a maid. A servant.
Not the woman who'd been with him from the beginning. Not the woman who'd helped him build this empire, who'd brought him clients, who'd fucked and manipulated and lied for him.
Get us some water.
While Leena sat beside him, elevated, untouchable.
Hela reached the kitchen and stood at the counter, staring at the row of glasses in the cabinet.
Her hands were shaking.
She'd known this was coming. Had felt the shift over the past month. Rider's attention moving away from her, focusing more and more on Leena. The way he touched her. The way he spoke about her.
But this—this casual dismissal—was different.
This was confirmation.
She'd been replaced.
Hela pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolled through her contacts.
There were names here Rider didn't know about. People from her past, before she'd met him. People who owed her favors. People who didn't ask questions.
She opened a text thread.
Markus.
Hela's thumb hovered over the keyboard.
She could hear Rider's voice from the living room, confident and commanding. Heard Ronald laugh at something he said. Heard the faint rustle of fabric—probably Leena shifting in her seat, silent and obedient.
Get us some water.
Hela typed: I need you to do something for me.
She stared at the message for a long moment.
Then she hit send.
The phone buzzed almost immediately. A single word: What?
Hela didn't respond. Not yet.
She set the phone down on the counter, filled three glasses with water, and carried them back to the living room on a tray.
Rider took his without looking at her. "Thanks."
Ronald nodded. "Appreciate it."
Leena didn't take hers. Just stared at the glass like she didn't know what to do with it.
Hela set the tray down and returned to her spot by the window.
Her phone was still in her pocket, warm against her thigh.
The message was sent. The gears were in motion.