"Alek, we've got something interesting."

He didn't believe them. At least, he wasn't sold that their metric for interesting was the same metric that he used for interesting. The voice belonged to Jerami, a native of Alek's new home. Jerami was 6'5, a shade over three hundred pounds, and was likely NFL bound before an unsuccessful microfracture surgery. Without finishing his college degree and no other job prospects to speak of, the young man found himself in a precarious place. Somehow Alek's father got networked with the large man, and offered him employment as ‘security’. A title that could mean half a hundred things in the Zima family, but it seemed Salem had relaxed their father. All Jerami did before Alek arrived was play bodyguard.

Now Alek was back. Now Jerami had the chance to work for an actual gangster, not whatever domesticated creature his father had become. Alek didn't begrudge his father a thing. That was the entire goal of a criminal life: learn to evolve to a different, better, life or let the criminal game eventually kill you. His father had been smart enough to step out just as his son was getting his toes wet for the first time. Because of that there had always been a Zima in charge of the underworld part of the Zima business, the very foundation on top of which every other part of their empire was built.

Alek turned away from his wall of monitors in his office just in time to watch Jerami and Claudia enter. Claudia was mid-20s, pretty, smart. The woman's ambition was blunt and obvious for all to see, it made for someone that worked hard for Alek, but it also left a sour taste in his mouth. For now she dealt with irritated snowflakes as well as any other human he'd seen, and she knew Salem. She knew it well, and even better, she knew most of the normal faces in it. It made her a useful voice for a gangster that was setting up in Salem, having never lived there for more than a few months before.

Sergei was nowhere to be seen--probably chasing after some woman, Alek bet.

Not a word was said until Claudia drifted to the screens, and picked up the tablet remote. A few seconds later and every screen focused on a dark haired girl in a short dress. Alek stared, a few seconds longer than he'd like to admit. "Who is she?"

That was when Jerami finally started speaking, "Marlena Castillo."

"Castillo?" Alek only asked because somewhere in the back of his mind, recognition rang like a bell.

Claudia Contreras smiled. Something inside the woman liked what happened to the Castillos, Alek thought as he watched that particular smile in that particular moment. Latin feud? Just didn't like them? Alek had guesses, but they were thoughts that drifted. His mind stayed focused on the girl on the monitors. On the Castillo. Claudia continued, "She's the little princess of the Castillo clan. That very same family your family--"

"--I remember the history." Usually he just sighed at family histories out of boredom. Who cared? They weren't Montagues or Capulets. Business couldn't afford that kind of drama. Or was that how business got done in Salem? The international gangster snorted. "Is she just here to have fun? Is she with people? Does she have an agenda?"

Claudia hesitated, but only for a beat, "She's probably just here to party, but she might be crazy enough to come here for you. You absolutely cannot trust her."

It begged the question in his head: "Does she sleep around?"

Claudia's answer came first, and it came harsh. "Oh yeah. She's a slut. A manipulative little cunt."

Jerami's answer was slower, softer. "Nah, not from what I hear. Plenty of boys been trying for years and them dudes ain't got so much as a snap from her. If she like you she may go hard in ya paint, but that's about it...I don't think she's dangerous."

"No?" The accident was thick as it cut across the room from the door. Sergei had arrived, even though Alek hadn't sent for him, he wasn't surprised to see him. "Is that from your years of experience opening doors, Jerami? Even a little girl like this," Serg said, motioning to the monitors and the girl dancing on them, "can kill a great man. She is the daughter of a known enemy: therefore, she is an enemy as well. She should be treated with suspicion and mistrust. Maybe..." Serg's eyes widened just-so as he walked into the room, in front of the monitors next to Alek, and really took a good look. After a long look, he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe she could prove herself over some time...with a body like that it would be fun to see her try."

Sergei had suddenly gone creepy old Russian guy on them all, and Alek loved it, snickering at his old friend. "Let's talk to her."

"Security will pull her." Jerami spoke, and Alek noted that the man hadn't been hesitant to speak again after Sergei ridiculed him. That was a good sign, and one Alek didn't miss: he didn't know Jerami, but people swore by the guy, and Alek could use a few new hands that were native and local. Claudia looked annoyed, hiding it with her nose in the air and a cold expression on her face. Like there were many women out there in the world that casually wore that expression--it was always a dead give away, but then, Alek supposed maybe Claudia wanted him to know she was unpleased.

It was a dumb attitude for a woman who worked for him to have, Alek couldn't stand drama queens, but for now it wasn't something Alek wanted to ask about, or talk about. There were more pressing matters. "Where is she?"

Claudia answered first, "Second floor, middle of the dance floor."

That was down the stairs. "J, tell Security to hold a perimeter around her. Tell them to stare at her, make it obvious and uncomfortable." Alek waited for Jerami and Claudia to leave before he leaned over to Serg, "I got this. Go enjoy...whatever woman."

"Brittany. 26, nurse, biggest god damned tits, with a big thick ass...my God, Aleksander, I'm seconds from ripping her panties right off right there at the bar." Sigh."We know you are better with the women than I am, yes, but be careful with this..." his eyes went back to the monitor, "Marlena. She looks fun, though, and God knows you need fun right now to get that stick out of your ass that your ex shoved up there."

A grin, and a wild smack on Alek's shoulder, and Sergei was off. Alek chuckled, shook his head at his meatheaded friend, and fixed his collar before heading out of the office and down the stairs. Claudia waited by the stairs, pointing out Jerami at the edge of the dance floor, where tables and tall chairs mingled with dance floor. Once he reached Jerami, he pointed her out, but it wasn't something Alek needed. He saw her, immediately. Moving.

"Hispanic women are dangerous." Jerami shouted the words of warning after watching Alek stare without blinking, and barely breathing. It made Alek laugh.

"All women are dangerous." Granted, Alek had heard the warnings about latin tempers, but he'd also heard they were like horny angels in bed, and could cook so well to make any man too fat, too fast, to ever want for any other woman again in his life.

Alek just hoped this Latina didn't want to shoot him. He didn't want to be shot again. Almost on cue Marlena's brown eyes hit his, and the lock between gazes -as was her smirk- was instant. When he beckoned her by twitching his index finger to him, motioning for her, she shook her head and laughed. And then she seemed to grin and shoot him a flirtatious wink. She seemed anything but uneasy.

"Maybe she thinks it's a game?"

"Maybe, either way..." He didn't really have the patience. Knowing damn well just how many eyes were on him right now, he just didn't care as he started moving in her direction, and moving with purpose. Security on the dance floor helped clear a path. Marlena looked pleased at the attention, Alek remembered thinking, as he stayed cool on the exterior. On the inside? He was right up on her, close enough to smell her. She smelled...like something he wanted.

Something he wanted so badly it hurt.

Once the distance was closed and he stood in front of her, she looked up at him defiantly, that bratty smirk still plastered on her face. With a single smile to her, Alek reached out and grabbed her, taking her completely off guard. First her right arm, then her left side, and with a single, easy, motion her body was slung over his broad shoulder. He marched off the dance floor with her, ignoring every shout, sound and punch to his back made in protest. The heat of her, the impossible softness of her skin, and her ass right next to his face? He wanted to rip her dress off, old school gangster style. But that style was never quite his style. So as soon as they were off the dance floor, she was down on her feet, Jerami and two of his big boys blocking off her escapes. It was safe to say the red-faced, scowling Marlena wasn’t looking very pleased right now.

Claudia was right behind Alek, glaring a hole through the oblivious Castillo girl. Alek just moved back to the stairs with double guard, Sergei's men wearing dark suits. Killers that regarded Marlena coldly as she was escorted up and into the office, to which the girl merely looked straight in the face and rolled her eyes as if bored and unamused by the whole thing. When they all got up, Jerami simply nodded when Alek asked him to wait outside, while Claudia visibly balked. Claudia whispered something sharp to Alek, but the Zima heir just shrugged at her.

Marlena Castillo had gone through some bad times because of the Zimas. On the off chance the girl was just here to have a good time, Alek wanted to back off the brute approach, and go for something a little less threatening. For now. Closing the doors, Alek turned and just...drank in the sight of her. That dress, that figure, the hair…

"The Castillos can't be doing half as bad as people are telling me if you're here looking like that. Hi, I'm Aleksander Zima. Can I get you a drink?" He asked, like he just remembered his courtesies, moving for the small dark glass bar in the office.

“After the little scene you just pulled on me, a drink is the least you can do,” Marlena replied coolly, standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed in front of her. Her brown eyes never left the oldest Zima’s figure, secretly shocked by the fact that she was not in the presence of the man she’d been drooling over just hours before. Funny how life worked like that sometimes. “And I know exactly who you are. I follow you on Twitter. So... What’s up? What do you want?”

"They thought maybe you were here to kill me, or try to con me. The killing...I'd like to see where you could hide a gun under that dress. That's a dress, right? Not just a...stretch of fabric?" The smirk played at the corner of his lips, but stayed back, repressed.

Marlie rolled her eyes at the man, unamused by him offering his unwanted opinion about her choice of clothing. Typical guy move. “You sound like my father. Why the fuck would I be here to kill you? Although I might now, after that ridiculously uncalled for comment about my dress,” she replied in a bored tone, impatiently tapping her foot against the floor now. “Can you get to the point, Zima? Or did you just bring me here to talk shit about my outfit?”

"I thought instead of having you taken out back and shot, we could talk, because maybe you weren't here for some family feud that means absolutely nothing to me? I just moved here. I don't know Salem. I don't know it's families, and I don't know it's history that well." He shrugged, settling behind the bar, working on a scotch for himself even if she remained silent.

But, of course, Marlena Castillo wasn’t one to stay silent..

“Listen here, Aleksander, let’s get something straight. If you want to shoot me out back, go right on ahead. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not putting up a fight. But I have to warn you: my daddy and brother wouldn’t take it lightly. So if you put a bullet through my head they’ll want yours hand-delivered on a silver platter. So, yeah: I would say that it’s in everyone’s best interest that we ‘just talk’,” she said confidently, never once showing any signs of fear or intimidation. Her daddy hadn’t raised no coward. Smirking, Marlie took up a seat in the couch at the far end of the room, putting up her legs on the empty space before turning to Alek again. “I’m not here to harm you or cause you any trouble. I didn’t even know you would be here. The world doesn’t revolve around your hot piece of ass. Hush is my go-to place to party when I don’t want to be around the Salem people; but you obviously wouldn’t know that, since you ‘just moved here’ and all. Might want to get your facts straight before you try and fuck with someone again.”

So there was that. Even if he had tried to stop it, the shit eating grin that preceded his next line as he dutifully gathered ice cubes and poured the scotch wouldn’t have hid well, so he just grinned. “Thank you for straightening me out, Marlena...they call you Marlena?” He asked in aside, eyes slightly squinted as if he just had a hard time ‘Marlena’ was a common form of address for the girl.

“It’s Marlie, actually,” the young woman quickly corrected in a conceited tone, even if her full first name sounded delicious coming from his mouth in that slight British-laced-with-Russian accent.

“It’s very kind of you to issue your permission should I ever want, or need, to end your life.”

“Well, what can I say? I like to help out the less fortunate,” she shot back, giving him a mischievous grin. “Becoming a martyr would be a good way to go down. ‘Gone but not forgotten’ and all that shit.”

After a long, deep, initial sip of the crystal scotch glass with it's heavy base he carefully placed it on the small bar he was behind, eyes returning to stare at the girl across the room from him. The only special feature to the office were the monitors, and those had gone dark, switched off by Claudia if he had to guess. There was a wooden desk that looked heavy and expensive, but it wasn't. The chair behind it wasn't bad, and there was at least one gun in it's drawers, but it just looked expensive.

The couch, the chairs, the bright rug over a dark stained hardwood. None of it was lived in, all of it looked barely touched but always kept clean and ready. The club office of a club owner who had far too much going on? Or just the hideaway escape that had yet to be settled into? It was a question about his own life that he couldn't help but think about as he poured her drink next, ice and glass, and voila: a glass of scotch that would cost a few hundred dollars downstairs. His thoughts shifted as he took her glass even as he sipped at his, moving across to the couch, offering her glass before finding his own seat in the dark brown leather chair adjacent to her end of the couch. The young woman accepted his offer, taking the glass from his hands.

Carefully he sat, a passing look of discomfort that Marlena didn't notice coming and going before he politely smiled at her. "That's why I made Hush, by the way: an escape from Salem people. And I wasn't fucking with you. That's not what it looks like if I decided to fuck with someone." He felt amusement at the girl’s shocked expression upon hearing he owned the club she loved so much, but he tried not to dwell on it.

“Hold the fuck up. You own this place?” the brunette cried out in disbelief, eyes wide in surprise. Was he being serious?!

"Indeed. Glad you're enjoying my club," he said simply, rendering Marlena speechless. His tone was deeper, his eyes glazing as the mixture of scotch and narcotics heavied his head, his mind going further.

"Honestly? I don't think you were here to kill me. My normal people, they're cool, they're hitting on the American girls. They could give a damn about my safety right now," It made him chuckle, because it was only half-true, and because of the next sip of charcoal barrel aged perfection that was the Scotch whiskey in his glass. "It was the newer people. 'A Castillo!'" He laughed at it, like it was joke. It was entirely possible it was to him.

“Good to know the sight of us still gets the alarm bells ringing like they should,” Marlie replied proudly, taking a sip off her glass of scotch, the burning sensation down her throat somewhat empowering her even further.

"You're vicious, I think, but you don't seem centered in history. You seem more the girl that lives for the moment. But I just moved here, and don't know shit." Fast, sudden, smirk and it was gone. Replaced with the glass on his lips.

At his comment, the young woman couldn’t help but crack a teasing smirk, eyebrow raised in amusement. Vicious, he said? For someone who was new to town he sure had a way of knowing the right words to describe her, even if he might not be aware that the adjective applied to her in a different context than the one he probably meant.

“You’re half right about that, Aleksander. I do live for the moment and I’m not centered in history. And on the topic of you not knowing shit: we can definitely change that tonight, if you want. I could show you around our beloved city. It would give us a chance to get to know each other a little more, and maybe even show you just how vicious -as you say- I can really be...” she said in a kittenish voice, stroking the inside of his thigh while keeping her brown eyes locked on his.

He paused the sip of his drink just long enough to say, “Few better tour guides for Salem’s...attractions, I’d imagine.” Attractions, he said, with emphasis...as his eyes moved from her eyes and slid slow and certain down her frame.

He wasn’t referring to local landmarks.

Marlena’s smirk spread out into a full-fledged smile. She was really going to do it, wasn’t she? “Correct! And I promise you that, no matter how hard you try, you won't find a better tour guide once you have me,” she declared fearlessly, blazing brown eyes digging into his.

The smile of hers freed him. Big, bright, and alive with the electricity of adrenaline. She wasn’t scared, she wasn’t intimidated (even if maybe she should’ve been), and she wasn’t tense with second guessing herself. It was a pleasant surprise, one that led him to stand and smile himself. A small, sharp, thing that came all too naturally once he relaxed and decided exactly what he was about to do. A few steps and stood beside her, the trimmed fingernail of his right index finger tracing from her collarbone, up to her shoulder, and around and down her arm--barely touching her until he got to her hand, taking it into his without a single moment's hesitation, his eyes dancing between her body and those impossibly big brown eyes of hers.

"You can scream, if you need to. You can beg, you can cry, be as loud as you need to be --and you'll probably need to be. There's a nightclub outside that door… No one's going to hear us."