Eleanor stepped back out into the dimly lit corridor, radiating a vibrant, youthful energy that hadn't been there an hour ago. Her assistant hurried to her side, tapping the tablet.
"Your guest is waiting in your office, Madam."
"Good," Eleanor replied smoothly, turning down the hallway toward her private quarters.
She pushed open the heavy wooden doors to her sanctum. The office was sprawling and utterly luxurious—a massive mahogany desk anchored the center of the room, flanked by a king-sized bed draped in dark silks, plush velvet couches, and a crackling fireplace. Ancient relics, stolen artifacts, and rare antiquities collected over centuries lined the dark wood shelves.
Standing by the hearth, casually examining an ornate bronze dagger, was a tall, striking figure. He turned as she entered, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses over a clean-shaven face and smoothing down a razor-sharp custom black suit.
"Madam Eleanor. It’s been a while," Lord Isaac grinned, his voice smooth.
"Lord Isaac. It’s always a pleasure," Eleanor replied, gesturing toward the seating area as she glided around her desk and sank into her high-backed leather chair. She leaned back, fixing him with a slow, heavy stare. "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
Isaac didn't sit. He folded his hands in front of him. "I’m looking for a man. He runs a network of underground clubs and rigged card games. He bleeds people dry, ensures no one ever walks away with a win, and when they can't pay..." He jaw tightened. "My brother went there, lost everything, and when the debt came due, he vanished."Eleanor leaned forward, her dark eyes narrowing with genuine interest. "Go on."
"Nobody knows where his operation is held. Clients have to be blindfolded just to be driven to the entrance," Isaac said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a fraction of a second. "But I heard he has frequented this house."
Eleanor began rhythmically tapping a long, manicured nail against the polished wood of her desk. Hundreds of men passed through her doors every week; she couldn't possibly keep track of every low-level grifter. But then, a name and a face surfaced in her memory.
She stopped tapping.
"Yes," Eleanor said softly. "He has been here before."
Isaac’s head snapped up, hope flashing behind his glasses. "Is he here tonight?"
"Not tonight," Eleanor replied calmly. "But if he returns... I can let you know."
Isaac stood up straight, smoothing his jacket. "And what’s in it for me, Lord Isaac?" Eleanor asked with a playful, dangerous smile. She rose from her chair, walking in a slow, deliberate line until she stood right in front of him, planting a single hand flat against his chest.
Isaac swallowed hard, his breathing visibly shallowing as the terrifying, magnetic pull of her proximity washed over him.
"You... you will be rewarded handsomely, Madam Death," he rasped, his eyes locked onto hers.
Eleanor smirked, slowly withdrawing her hand and stepping back. Isaac turned toward the door, his hand resting on the brass knob. Before he pulled it open, he stopped and lowered his head."Please, Madam," Isaac murmured, a crack of raw vulnerability slipping through his polished armor. "He’s my only brother."
With that, he slipped out into the hallway, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
Eleanor crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a low, reluctant huff into the quiet room.
“Fine,” she muttered, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "As you wish."