Welcome, Miss Backlay," the butler said as I stepped into the Conswinks mansion.
I adjusted the fur coat around my gorgeous dinner gown, which I was wasting this night with the commissioner.
"Jessica, you are here early," the commissioner said, coming down the stairs, and I pursed my lips at the informal use of my name.
"I would like to keep it as Miss Backlay, Mr. Commissioner, so we don't get any ideas," I said, making sure to emphasize the Mr. Commissioner part.
The commissioner gave a light-hearted laugh, but I could see the shift in his eyes.
"Let's head on to the dinner table, shall we?" he said, and I followed his lead. We passed a few artifacts and paintings here and there—your typical modern house.
Sometimes I think most people of the same social class have the same interior decorator because their houses all look the same and have similar layouts.
When we got to the table, I noticed that it was set for three, a vacant chair right next to me. I took my seat, shifting a little bit to settle in.
Who was the third seat for? Brad?
I poured a little portion of the dressing on top of my salad. The commissioner was the first to speak up.
"I apologize for the rather uncouth behavior of my son," the commissioner said, surprising me.
"It's okay, I don't take it to heart. Whatever decision I made was to protect my image and that of my organization," I said.
The commissioner leaned in to help me pour the wine the butler had already opened into my glass.
"I understand that, Miss Backlay, and that's precisely what I wanted to talk to you about," he said, and I eyed him through his reflection in the glass.
"I want you to keep dating my son," he said, and I looked up to face him, gauging his reaction to see if he was actually joking.
I wanted to retort, "If it were you, would you date your son?" But instead, I bit my tongue and asked, "Why would I do that, sir?" I asked, and he shrugged.
"As you know, the elections are coming up. The governor wants everything to go smoothly. The scandal, of course, might not impact his re-election, but as it is, every other candidate has a female in their list of candidates and appointees, and we have none. We can't afford a horde of female feminists breathing down our necks."
I raised my glass to my lips, pausing before I took a sip.
"You want me to stake my own image?" I asked.
"I just want you to make a small compromise," he said, flashing a smile. "Of course, you are free to refuse, Miss Backlay, and I would withhold my financial support for your organization, but I would like to remind you that I have information on Francis Backlay… your father."
"I can assure you, Mister Commissioner, that whatever information you have on my father, I have beat you to it," I said, pulling the small envelope out of my coat and dropping it onto the dinner table, the commissioner's gaze following the action.
"What I know you haven't seen is the information on your darling daughter, Susannah," I said, smiling as his face turned white, the same shade as his knuckles, as he hurriedly tore open the envelope, his expression draining of color.
"Apparently, cheating runs in the family," I said, picking up my purse and sipping the last of the wine.
"You bitch! I promise to ruin you!" the commissioner said, knocking over his glass of wine in the process.
"Not if I ruin you first, Mr. Commissioner," I said, walking away slowly. "Oh, and good luck on that election," I added, continuing on my way.
****
As I walked away, I could hear hurried footsteps close behind me as I headed back to my car, parked a little further from the Conswinks mansion.
It was rather a lonely night, and it seemed like I was the only one here.
I finally got tired of the man following me, and from the corner of my eye, I could see he was dressed in black, but I couldn't make out his figure.
"Are you just a pervert, or do you follow women down dark alleys at night?" I asked, pretending to fold my arms around my body, trying to subtly bring out my pepper spray from my bag.
The man must have noticed this, and just as I reached for the spray, trying to press down on it, a punch landed on the side of my ribs, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
I knew a bit of judo, so I tried to push through the pain on my side, trying to kick him or land a punch, but instead, I was pressed against the car, a blade against my throat and one against my stomach.
"You choose which way to die, Jessica," I heard the disembodied voice of the commissioner through a device connected to my assassin's body.
A wave of pain and shock coursed through my body all at once, making me tremble.
"You are going to pay for your actions with your life," the disembodied voice said, finally bringing the knife to my stomach closer than before. I could feel blood starting to soak my satin gown, my head dizzy from the punch.
The commissioner I assume because he is the one I think is behind all this he was right about one thing: tonight I had underestimated him, and I was going to pay with my life.
I really didn't expect him to resort to murder.
"Finish her off," the disembodied voice said, finally cutting off from the device.
I struggled as much as I could, kicking and fighting with all the little strength I had, but it only led to the blade cutting deeper into my flesh.
Just as I was about to see black and accept my fate—I was going to die anyway—I heard screeching tires, a car turning around sharply. The headlights of the car were so illuminating that I had to squint, and I saw my assassin fleeing.
It wasn't until the lights were turned off that I dropped to the floor, my eyes blurry, but I could still hear a voice screaming as I fell to the ground.
"Jessica!"