[TMF] - Chapter 1: The Game Begins

Zamara Rose scanned the dozens of pictures lining the wall in front of her. Each picture had a single face and a large “X” over it. She pressed a button on her earpiece.

“Rajar, are you seeing this?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, what exactly am I seeing?” He replied.

“All of these people were targeted and eliminated by one of the Blackstones, and it seems like it was Logan.”

“That’s what I see, I’m just working on the believing part.”

Zamara felt the same way. Logan Blackstone was a prominent millionaire who rose to first class at the age of sixteen. One-third of his money was inherited from his mother and the rest came from his many businesses. Of the entire family, Zamara expected Vladimir to be their killer, not Logan. And that’s why you don’t assume things.

“There’s no way Logan is our guy.” Rajar remarked, “It’s got to be Vladimir, that guy screams ‘killer.’”

“For all we know they could all be in on it.” Zamara replied.

“Yeah, but only one of them pulled the trigger. You need to get out of there now, return to the party. Whether it’s Logan or not, this guy is dangerous. Get out of there immediately.

“Leaving now.” Zamara quickly exited the room and made her way back downstairs.

It was way too easy to get invited to this party. Hosted by Logan Blackstone himself, this was an “invite-only” engagement, and invites were not cheap. She just “happened” to meet Dorian Blackstone on the street and pretended to be totally oblivious to who he was. Dorian, being used to women falling all over him, was immediately intrigued. It wasn’t every day that someone, a woman no less, completely ignored his existence. Zamara had nearly laughed when he asked for her name. It had been child’s play from there. She feigned ignorance over the first class of America since she was nothing but a young traveler from India who had been born in America but hadn’t been here since she was nine. It was partially true and enough to get a date with Dorian who immediately began to educate her about the wealthy people of America. It wasn’t hard to keep the playboy’s attention. She conveyed beauty, wisdom, mystery, and curiosity quite well. After three days, Dorian invited her to his brother’s yearly gathering so she could meet the prestigious upper class that dominated America. She wondered what he would tell his brother if he discovered that the intriguing Ms. Rose was actually a spy. The thought was amusing.

Rounding another corner, she bumped into another brother, Vladimir. Rajar hadn’t been joking when he said Vladimir screamed ‘killer’. At 6’ 2” with the appearance of a bodyguard, the second child of the Blackstone family looked like he could shoot you in cold blood and sleep like an infant the same night. Zamara wondered if he ever smiled, and if he did would it be with good intentions.

Vladimir narrowed his eyes at her.

Zamara put on a nervous smile, “Excuse me, am I going the right way? I just came from the bathroom and forgot how to get back.”

Vladimir continued to scrutinize her, “This mansion is very big, many people get lost here. Come, let me escort you back to the ballroom.”

She smiled, “Thank you.”

Vladimir slowly led her down the hallway. “Tell me, Ms. Rose, how long have you been in the United States?”

“Only seven months.”

“I see…”

She knew what he was thinking, something like who was she and if her story about the bathroom was correct. It wasn’t a good coverup, but it was true. The bathroom was huge; however, the distance from it to the ballroom wasn’t. The probability of someone getting lost was low.

“Tell me about Dorian,” she asked, “is he really what he seems?”

“What does he seem like?” He asked.

She smiled, “Like someone who changes women like one changes clothes.”

He raised a brow, “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

She sighed, “I suppose it’s for the best, he’s not my type anyway.”

“What would be your type?”

Zamara thought for a moment. Perhaps it might be fun to bait him. “Men with secrets.” she replied.

Vladimir narrowed his eyes at her, “Secretive men are dangerous.”

“Yes, but they give you something to figure out.” She replied. “Men like Dorian walk around with all their cards showing, wishing to catch attention from anyone passing by. There would be no surprises and eventually, one would grow bored with them.”

“But at least you would know what to expect.”

“I like to expect the unexpected.”

“Tell me, Ms. Rose, in those seven months, how many men have you met?”

She raised a brow, “Not many.”

“I see.”

“Why do you ask?”

He ignored the question, “Be careful with the attention you seek, some men will kill to protect their secrets.”

She smiled mischievously, men like you? she thought. Instead, she answered, “And there lies some of the fun, you never know who might kill you and it’s a game to find out as much as you can before the end.”

“You may end up dead by the end.”

“Again, surviving is part of the fun.”

Vladimir stopped and turned to her, “One of these days you will chase the wrong man and he will kill you if not worse.”

Oh, really? You have no idea who I am Blackstone. “Than his secrets must have been worth finding.”

He smiled and leaned forward, “Too bad you’ll be dead and won’t fully enjoy them.”

Zamara’s heart stopped. Vladimir’s smile was both deadly and beautiful. She knew she was in deep trouble yet that didn’t stop her from leaning forward and whispering, “Who knows, I might survive.”

The two stared at each other as time slowly passed. Zamara knew she had taken a big risk. The last thing she needed was for the Blackstone’s to be on high alert, especially this one.

“Shall we?” She asked, beckoning to the direction of the ballroom.

They continued walking. Vladimir didn’t say anything the rest of the way. Zamara wondered what he was thinking. If he really was the Phantom, then his mind would definitely be analyzing their conversation to the smallest detail. Zamara smiled.

She had closely examined all of the Blackstones when she had been introduced to them, each had their own secrets; but who was her killer? She thought carefully. Vladimir could be the gun, Logan pulled the trigger, and Dorian was the one that got the gun where it was needed. Yes, the three would make a good team. She wouldn’t be surprised if they shared the same alias.

They approached the ballroom, the party still in full effect. Zamara rolled her eyes, she could already pick out the drunk ones. She loved parties but hated alcohol. Dorian had tried to get her to drink some wine and she had blatantly refused, which he took as a dislike for that specific wine instead of wine in general. He had brought back nine different bottles of wine and Zamara had tasted each, none of them were to her liking. That didn’t stop Dorian though, he continued to suggest more types. If she hadn’t chosen to slip away at that point she was sure she would’ve tasted thirty bottles by now and gotten drunk just by tasting.

Zamara turned to her escort, “Thank you for the conversation, I enjoyed it.”

“Likewise,” Vladimir replied.

“Perhaps we can meet sometime.”

“Perhaps…”

“Ah! There you are! I was wondering where you ran off too.”

Zamara, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, turned to the man who was walking across the floor, “I got a bit lost on my way back from the ladies’ room.”

Dorian smiled as he came to a stop in front of her, “If you would’ve waited for me I could have escorted you and prevented that.”

“I didn’t mind, the walk was refreshing,” Zamara replied with a small smile.

Dorian laughed, “One would think you were trying to escape the wine tasting.”

Zamara kept smiling but said nothing.

Dorian turned to his brother, “Can you believe she doesn’t like any of our best wine? I had to start pulling out the cheap stuff.”

Zamara wondered how “cheap” the cheap stuff was, “I told you not to bother.” she replied.

“And I told you I would find a bottle of wine you did like.”

Vladimir glanced at her, “If she does not like the wine, perhaps vodka would be better.” he suggested.

Zamara laughed, “I would prefer neither, thank you. I have an aversion to alcohol, it only gets you in trouble.”

Vladimir raised a brow while Dorian looked at her like she was insane.

“You are a most interesting woman,” Dorian remarked.

She only smiled, “That’s what I’ve been told.”

Dorian motioned to where the others were dancing, “Do you wish to dance?”

Zamara glanced in the direction he was pointing. Couples were twirling around on the floor while the orchestra played a slow waltz.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Dorian smiled and offered her his hand. She took it and started to follow him, but Vladimir pulled her back.

He whispered into her ear, “Those who seek out killers usually get killed.”

“Usually Mr. Blackstone, usually.” She replied.

She turned and followed Dorian to the floor. When she glanced back, Vladimir was staring at her with a look that sent shivers down her arms.

She was playing a dangerous game, a very dangerous game. By the end, one of them would end up dead. She just prayed it wouldn’t be her.