Later that night, the house was quiet.
Ali couldn't sleep. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her jittery. She walked out onto the balcony of her room, wrapping Isadore's jacket around herself against the chill.
Below, in the garden, she heard a voice.
It was Cody.
He was pacing by the fountain, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Dad, you have to do something!" he was whining. "That psycho Walker... he threatened me! Yeah, in front of everyone!"
Ali leaned over the railing, hidden by the ivy.
"I didn't even do anything!" Cody kicked a rosebush. "I just tried to help the bitch out of the pool!"
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of the oak tree behind him.
It moved with terrifying speed.
A hand-gloved in black leather-clamped onto the back of Cody's neck.
Cody yelped, dropping his phone.
Isadore slammed him against the rough bark of the tree. He lifted Cody off his feet, holding him there with one hand.
"I heard," Isadore said, his voice low and carrying on the wind, "that you saved her."
"I... I..." Cody stammered, his feet dangling.
"Did you touch her?" Isadore asked.
"No! I swear!"
"Liar."
Isadore's free hand didn't grab his wrist. It produced a small, almost silent digital recorder. He played a sound file. It was Cody's voice, brokering a deal for illegal campaign funds. Cody's blood ran cold.
"Do you know who she is?" Isadore whispered. "She is not for you. She is not for anyone like you."
"My dad is the Vice President!" Cody choked out.
"I don't care if your father is God himself," Isadore said. His voice dropped to a blade in the dark. "The next time you even breathe her name, this file goes to the Federal Prosecutor I was just having drinks with. Your father's career will be over. And you... you'll just disappear."
He dropped him. Cody fell into the mud, scrambling backward, his face a mask of pure terror.
Isadore stood over him, adjusting his cuffs.
"That was a warning," Isadore said. "There won't be another."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the night as if he had never been there.
Ali stood on the balcony, her hand over her mouth.
He had just destroyed the Vice President's son with a whisper. For her.
It was brutal. It was silent.
And god help her, it was the most romantic thing she had ever seen.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She jumped. She pulled it out. Unknown number.
She answered. "Hello?"
"Go to sleep, Little Fish."
Isadore's voice was deep, rough, like gravel over velvet.
"You..." Ali looked down at the empty garden. "You're watching me?"
"Always," he said. "Come to my office tomorrow. K Street. We have paperwork to sign."
"Isadore," Ali whispered. "Thank you."
There was a pause. She could hear him lighting a cigarette on the other end.
"Don't thank me yet," he said darkly. "You have no idea what you've just agreed to."
The line went dead.
Ali looked at the phone, her heart racing so fast it hurt.
