Sullivan

With Bloom's insistence, Sullivan waited for the arrival of the painter. Vito had told him that she found the painter herself and even wrote up a contract. She really put in a lot of effort; honestly, Sullivan found it weird. As a child growing up, she had lost her childish innocence long ago; Sullivan didn't hide the dark part of his world from her. He had a lot of enemies, and it would be best if she didn't grow up as a sheltered dove. But still, she was his princess. When had she ever had to do anything by herself? Because of this, he didn't dare take this lightly. What his baby wanted, she would have.

A knock sounded on the study door. It was pushed open, and a maid walked in. "Sir, Miss Powés has arrived."

Sullivan nodded and followed her to the receiving room. The first person he saw was a large black woman. She was dressed in simple blue jeans and a red floral shirt; she wore no shoes and instead explored the room in gray and white polka-dot socks. Sullivan frowned in confusion.

"Miss Powés?" He called.

The woman spun around to face him. A small figure shot up from the couch. He hadn't even noticed someone else was in the room. He walked in to get a better look at the person. She had raven-black hair, and bangs framed her small face. Her brown eyes seemed to stare at something behind him. He frowned even more. He really should have done a background check! Neither of these women looked artistic.

Without giving anything away, he sat down on the leather sofa. "Miss Powés?" He called again.

"S-sir, good m-morning."

He was surprised to hear the tiny woman answer. Of course, she wasn't exactly tiny, but compared to his height and build, she really was a small thing.

He looked her over. She had tried to look professional with her black work pants, white shirt, and heels, and even though she was seated, he could see her feet bend awkwardly in them. Suddenly he wished he had been there when she walked in them. He stifled a laugh at the imagery.

"Good morning, sir. I am Miss Powés' agent, Friedrick Dahra."

Sullivan nodded.

"I believe the terms in the contract are to your satisfaction?"

The agent nodded. "Very much, sir. Our only concern is that the time period was not stated, and... my artist cannot possibly live here throughout the period of time it will take for the painting to be completed."

Sullivan looked at Miss Powés; she had her head down and was breathing deeply. Was she having a panic attack? She pulled at the collar of her shirt and rubbed her eyes.

The agent followed his line of sight and visibly panicked. She held Miss Powés' hands, squeezing it. Then she turned with a forced smile. "Aside from that, we're satisfied," she concluded.

Sullivan had a good mind to ask her what was wrong with her artist, but he changed his mind. She was a person his daughter chose, so he really didn't care as long as she got the job done.

"She can have the weekends free, and she can leave if she has an emergency, all with due permission, of course," Sullivan consented.

The agent nodded; she didn't even seem to be listening much. Instead, she shuffled uncomfortably like she couldn't wait to leave.

"Make yourself at home; that will be all." Sullivan stood and walked out. Outside the door, one of his men stood waiting with a parcel.

"Investigate that woman," he ordered. They were hiding something, and he will not allow anything to ruin his daughter's hard work. Besides, the painter gave him a vague sense of familiarity. The man bowed then held out the parcel.

Sullivan looked at it. It didn't have a stamp and looked pretty plain.

"Open it."

The henchman nodded and pulled out a knife. From the box, he pulled out something wrapped in brown paper and tied with a red string. Sullivan's face darkened.

He hissed and thought, "It's been so long; they're finally contacting me again!"

He collected the paper and dismissed the henchman. In his study, he slowly untied the red string and peeled off the paper to reveal a familiar invitation card. The paper used was so black it seemed to suck the light from its surroundings. And right in the middle was a blood-red diamond. The eye of the crow. The symbol of one of the Underground's most ruthless lords, Crimson.

The Narok family had deep ties with the Underground, an off-web organization that dealt with all things illegal. But since Sullivan took over as head of the family, he had been working to slowly break these ties, and their closest ally in the organization, Crimson, has not been happy.

The last time an invite came, Sullivan had almost lost his life; it had been a quiet two years, and another invite has arrived.

He shoved the invite into a drawer without opening it; he knew the contents anyway, they never changed.

'See You.'

Is all it ever says. He knew the drill; three days must not pass before he honored the invite. He took out a packet of cigarettes and lit a stick. He pensively watched the smoke curl around his fingers. Half a year. He just needs half a year to finally break free!

***

Bloom, for some reason, didn't join them for dinner. When Miss Powés walked in, he barely registered her presence. He wanted to tell Bloom he would be leaving soon, at the same time he wanted to leave without notice. Since the day she requested a family portrait, she had been busy and barely had time for him, although he hadn't been that free either. He sighed; he had hoped informing her of his destination and possible doom might soften her towards him.

After dinner, he didn't know when the painter left, neither did he care. He got to Bloom's room and knocked. The door opened almost immediately, and a cute girl in a pink onesie, wide dewy eyes, and bunny slippers opened the door. Sullivan blinked. Had someone kidnapped a princess into his house?

The little girl stared at him for a second, then scowled. The all-too-familiar scowl startled Sullivan.

"Baby?"

"Don't disgust me," the little princess said. She made to shut the door, but Sullivan wedged his foot, stopping her. The girl groaned and stomped into her room.

Walking into the room, Sullivan cursed, "The fuck? Did a drunk unicorn throw up in here?"

Bloom stamped her feet. "Get out of my room! I hate you."

Rather than leave, Sullivan swooped in and easily picked her up. He spun her in circles while shouting, "Ohh who's a cute princess, you, yes you are, yes you are."

"Ahh, put me down; I'm not a dog ahh." Bloom kicked and screamed, but Sullivan had no intention of stopping. She was so cute. Her hair was up in pigtails, and her face was flushed. Sullivan had no idea of the reason for her sudden change in aesthetics, but he loved it.

Despite her protest, Bloom was soon laughing shrilly in his arms. When he finally put her down, they both lay on her princess bed, huffing. Bloom held her dizzy head.

"You are crazy!"

"Be nice to a dying man."

Bloom rolled her eyes. "Heh, what now?"

Her voice was bored; she was well aware of how dramatic her father could be. Sullivan smiled in dismay; it was his fault that his daughter rarely took him seriously.

"I got Crimson's invitation."

He felt her stiffen beside him.

"When?"

"I got it today."

"...when do you leave?"

He turned to look at her face. Her pink cheeks were slightly chubby, and she had a faint dimple when she spoke. Her cute features twisted in a frown when he said, "Before dawn."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Bloom processed the information. Sullivan watched her closely, searching for any sign of worry or fear.

"Bloom, I need you to be okay, I can't leave until I'm sure you are," he said, his voice softer.

She looked away, avoiding his gaze. "It's not like you have a choice, just don't die"

He grinned, running a hand through her hair. "Don't worry you're stuck with me"

Bloom finally met his eyes, and for a moment, he saw a vulnerability that suited her age. "Just don't die" she repeated

The next morning, before the first light of dawn, Sullivan left the mansion. Through her window Bloom watched him drive away.