Coon

"You've got to be kidding me," Riccardo said, in his head of course. And folded his arms across his half-exposed chest. He stared down at Elma, his gaze crawling from her smooth naked legs up to her thighs—at least the one-third of it that wasn't covered by her part-slit skirt and then the rest of her fit. He could not help gawking at her. Never had he seen a redhead that looked so hot in a freaking green suit!

"So…" Riccardo stalled on purpose, softly biting on his lips. It wasn't his fault. He could not resist. It was her fault for looking so damn sexy; dangerously hot in that suit. "Ahem," he had to clear his throat to let out some steam. "If we're done here, we might as well leave."

"Yeah, sure," Elma said, her eyes looming on her skirt which was way shorter than the one she'd worn before.

Was she much bothered by its length? Riccardo thought that she was. Even though she didn't say anything. She had presently shot her hands up to her hair as if she wanted to make some adjustments.

"For fucks sake, no!"

"No?" Elma, throwing her head back for a minute, let down her hands. "Why, no?"

"What do you mean by 'why, no?'" Riccardo was already headed for the lift in his typical leopard gait. Whether he walked fast or it was just a casual slow, his movement pattern was always the same— Smooth as the breeze, swift as the wind. Elma's office was on the same floor as his. "Auburn looks better when it's let down—every hair always looks better when it's let down."

He'd hopped in the elevator before Elma could wrap her head around what he'd said: Auburn looks better when it's let down? So then he loves her hair because she'd let down the curls to flourish its bouncy waves down her back? What was she supposed to feel about that?

"Shit!" Elma shouted, snatching a peek at him looking down at the sophisticated watch on his wrist. But that wasn't all she'd seen… the magnetic doors of the lift were a few seconds away from shutting up before his face. Elma's heart began to pound. She deserved it, she'd been sloppy for a minute when she shouldn't be. "Wait for me!…."

~Escades, Kansas City.

At exactly eight-thirty, the whirlybird, formerly high in the air, began to descend gradually as they neared the heliport. Riccardo had been one to keep stealing glances at Elma throughout the drive.

"You have never been inside a bird like this, have you?"

Elma stayed tight-lipped regardless of what he'd said. Either she was too afraid or she was too afraid — Riccardo let her off the hook. Her hair swaying violently in the wind was still the perfect picture.

As the chopper finally touched base, she slowly unhooked her knees which had since been glued together.

"Good. We're here!"

Barely had he said that than his limbs had peeled off from the plane. He got down briskly enough and was soon standing proximal to a big round man donning a sleek black suit.

"Where's Reece?" Riccardo said with his chest out, standing tall. "Does he freaking know how important this is?"

"Sir…" Elma's voice suddenly rang in his ears from behind.

Riccardo, slumping his hands in his pockets, straightened his head when he said, "Finally, you made it out alive? "

Elma rounded his side first, placing herself within his vision. "Yes sir, and to what you asked before, I, Uhm, I never drove in a plane before."

A scoff was all it was from his lips. Again, he was walking off as brusquely as was customary of his gait. Elma, carrying his suitcase with her, had to jog along in her heels. In her freaking five-inches-tall stilettos!

She'd closed in on him when she saw a dapper young man opening the door of one of the sleek cars that lined that side.

"Here you go, sir," the man said in a not too polite tone. His voice was gruff.

"Reece!" Riccardo halted midway to entering the black Rolls-Royce [–Mansory Phantom Vlll]. He said, "Try not to keep your job if you want. But next time, I'll have no more need to tolerate your slackness."

"I'm sorry, s-sir."

Elma thought the man was strange because just before she could hop into the ride after Riccardo, Reece tightened his grip upon the door giving her the stank-eye glare that shook her up more than a little. Elma could not help but jump her shoulders up.

"Elma." Riccardo's voice countered the heat of the situation. "If you choose to remain out there and not hold on to your job at all, then that's your problem."

"Er, no sir." Elma shook the grim image of that sadist out of her head. Ignoring his face altogether, she hopped into the car. After which Reece shut the door with a bang that had her squinching to shut her eyes. Or had she imagined that he'd done that?

"Elma…" Riccardo had pulled out a bottle of champagne and two glasses with it, pouring quite a handful of the rum into both tumblers. "Here, have this." He said, before settling on his cup. Cutely. Until a sigh of satisfaction pealed out from his attractive thin lips. When he saw that she was yet to touch her drink, he crawled his eyes away. The scenic view of the state was something he'd missed. "My beautiful Escades! A bourgeois state crammed with more pigs than there are normal people wearing a freaking Trench coat!"

"Mr. Di Mauro?…" Elma had to blink back her shock from seeing him down the entire content of his cup in one go! She couldn't help but flinch. "Are you, um, okay?" Elma nearly died from taking in his godlike beauty when she said, "Sir?"

"Not being okay is me ramping up my time to fit in a pig's agenda."

"What—what pig?" Elma asked as a thread of confusion knitted up her brows into a mesh.

"Mr. Marseillemo, Elma.…" Riccardo, fiddling his lips with his thumb, had his arm leaned against the rester on the window as he peered out of it. "He called. He's going to be late for his appointment."

"What?" Elma screeched, before collecting herself. "How— Uhm, when did he—"

"Back on the chopper. And if you had been paying enough attention, you'd have noticed when I took up my phone at the time."

"Oh." Elma had to drop her eyes onto her drink-in-hand. "Back there, I was stomaching, um, my urge to vomit at the time."

"Motion sickness?" Riccardo darted his eyes over to her. Seeing her chewing on her lips, he peeled them back at the window. "Even that is not a reasonable excuse. But that is not the point. "

"I'm sorry then."

"Doesn't matter." Richard huffed. "We're still headed for the venue anyway. I'd like us to show that Coon what keeping to time is supposed to be like."