Billionaire by Chance

Efficient

Viktoria

The trip to Los Angeles from Panama City takes five hours, so I use the time to look for everything I will need in the city. I feel a rush of excitement in the plane and I can’t stop smiling to myself like a dumbass. This new job came at exactly the right time, when I was starting to feel bored with Panama City and my life there.

I look for a cool Airbnb and I even rent a car that I can pick up arriving at the airport to move around easily. And since the trip was so sudden and I didn't have enough time to pack a lot of things, I place an order at my favorite store, a whole new closet that will arrive as soon as possible to my Airbnb.

Black, sleek clothes. I love an all black attire with a pop of a bright color in a purse or shoes, except for when I’m working. In that case, I just wear all black.

Efficient as always, I fix everything I need to fix in just one hour and the rest of the time I spend reading to calm my mind. I tend to let myself get too far sometimes so I read as a means to stop my mind from wandering to who could my new victim be… how could I kill them? It’s too soon to be thinking about that sort of thing.

As soon as I let my new boss, Derek Dell, know I've arrived in LAX, he sends me an address and tells me to get there as soon as possible. And I do just that. I pick up my car and drive to his address, which ends up being a building downtown, not that far from my Airbnb I notice, which makes me feel even more efficient than usual.

Is there anything I can't do well? So far, no.

Derek sends an employee to escort me up to the penthouse and just as I expected, I walk into a room full of men, where one of my old clients raises a glass to me as a greeting. He’s a big client because he always has someone he needs to kill and I’m always available for him.

I smile politely and when a servant approaches with a tray of drinks. I decide to grab a glass of white wine before approaching the men. This encounter is going to be extremely annoying, I can already tell.

"Viktoria Kalezki. It’s so sweet to see you again,” Johnathan Lynn greets me with a dirty full look at my body. Sleazy as always, I’m not surprised at his gaze, "Meet my good friend, Drake Dell. You're here because I told him about the work you’ve done for me and he's looking for something similar."

"It’s so nice to meet you, Drake," I stretch out my hand to greet him. His shake is weak, he’s short, blonde and his vibe is off. I immediately don't like him. The rest of the men around the room are looking at us, so I greet them with a slight bow of my head, "Good evening, gentlemen. So, Drake, would you like to talk about this in private?"

"No need, I trust these men with my life and they’re the ones who recommended that I go ahead with this idea. My sister is aware of it too." he says like it’s not a big deal and I have to clench my hands to keep my displeasure from showing on my face.

I knew something like this was going to happen this time. American men, especially those with money, are way too arrogant for their own good. Every single time. That’s why my uncle refuses to take jobs from American people.

But if someone can make it happen smoothly, that’s definitely me.

"From now on, I would recommend that no one else finds out about this,” I have to mention, before he tries to involve his whole family, friends and neighbors, "I understand that you trust all your people, but it's best to make sure there aren't too many loose ends, just to ensure our safety."

"Oh, of course," he nods easily as if he’s not screwing up my whole modus operandi with all these damn people around. "Okay, so how about we sit down to talk about this guy? In private, if that's more up your alley."

"Please, if it's not too much to ask. I can't properly concentrate if there's too many people around me,” I say with a fake smile.

"Sure. Follow me," he says and leads me to the terrace of the penthouse. It's beautiful here, open and modern. And you can look at all the city lights, which puts me in a good mood immediately, but I'm not on vacation and I have to concentrate. I sit down at a table with Drake in front of me and pull my laptop out of my bag to start taking notes, "You're very professional, Viktoria, but younger than I thought. How many people have you killed?"

His question makes my whole body tense up, I’m immediately suspicious. And for a second I consider that this might be a trap for me and I’m about to be arrested, but I can quickly tell that Drake is just being a dumb jerk with no sense of prudence.

Besides, I know Jonathan Lynn would never put himself in danger after all he’s paid me to do.

"I've killed fifteen people so far. I've only been in the business for four years," I answer honestly. Drake nods with wide eyes, fascinated. "Okay, let's get started. What's the guy’s full name?"

"Adrien Belmore. Twenty five. He's my half-brother. A bastard," he spits out, his tone of distaste quite evident. I write down his name and age and ask him to give me as many facts about him as possible, "To be honest, I don't know much about this ässhole. I only found out about his disgusting existence two weeks ago when my father died and his lawyer read the will. He inherited most of my dad’s fortune and a seat on the board. The guy is a lowlife and it’s obvious he’s been poor most of his life. He’s not the kind of people I want in my company, so I need him dead."

Cute. And easy.

"I understand. It's a pretty common case," I murmur as I take notes, "That's all you know about this person? You don't know where he lives, what he did before the inheritance, his social media, if he has a lot of friends, a girlfriend or anyone special?"

"Nope, I don't know any of that," he replies looking at his extremely clean nails on his extremely soft looking hands, "I just know that he bought a red Lambo today, like the nouveau riche he is. And that he gets to the office at eight and leaves at five, just like the rest of us."

"Don't worry, I can look into it myself," I mutter and finish my pathetic notes, "I imagine your friend explained what I did for him, but I still have to explain how this will work. I don’t do anything reckless, no guns, car crashes or anything like that. Adrien's death won't happen overnight, it’s a long process. I need to take time to research him deeply, learn his routines and those of the people closest to him. This way I can begin to design my Death Plan for this man. This guarantees that his death will not be suspicious at all but will be, depending on his lifestyle, an accident, something medical or simple natural causes. Once I have a plan ready, I will let you know how I will proceed and what you need to do to guarantee an indestructible alibi. That way, it will be impossible for you to be implicated."

"That sounds beyond perfect, Viktoria. You're incredibly professional, way more than I thought." He mentions, looking actually surprised.

"Thank you, Drake. Now, let's talk money," I say and Drake nods with ease and arrogance, which gives me a chance to blurt out my highest amount, "My base price is one million dollars. This can change if there are major complications, for example a sudden change of location. The way it works is, half the p*****t first and once the death is complete, the rest of the p*****t. I have a real estate shell company, so the money is billed smoothly. And tax free."

He laughs at that.

"No problem at all. Sounds perfect, actually," he blurts out with a big, pleased smile on his face, "Give me the details and my assistant will see that you get half the p*****t as soon as tomorrow."

"Awesome. Looks like you'll have a nice little vacation home in Panama City," I say, turning my laptop towards him to show him the pretend house he's supposedly buying. Drake lets out a loud laugh and stands up to give me a hand shake worthy of a macho man.

Once I give him my details, Drake forces me to stay and drink with him and his rich friends for a little longer. I see it as an opportunity for future work, so I stay for a while and chat with them, ignoring their flirty banter and answering their morbid questions about my job.

They ask if I feel bad about doing what I do: no.

They ask if I enjoy or feel pleasure when I kill someone: no.

They ask if I've ever killed anyone without money involved: no.

They ask if I like the job: yes.

I love it, actually.

At first, when I was young and naïve, it was hard knowing that I would have to be part of the family business. My father and uncle are both hitmen in Russia and I always knew that. When I was told that the same is expected of me if I want to continue the standard of living I'm used to, I was scared, but once I learned how it worked and killed the first victim, I realized it wasn't as hard or as horrible as I thought.

People die every day anyway, right? I just fast forward the process and usually make it as painless as possible… except when I don’t. And I get money out of it, so it’s perfect.

I drive to my Airbnb after I get out of there, a little drunk but, who cares? My control even when drunk is absolutely perfect. The trash can I hit when I’m trying to park the car is just an unimportant casualty.

Before I get out of my car to greet the Airbnb owner, I put on my sunglasses and a face mask. And when I talk to her, I put on my fake Spanish accent. You can never be too careful, right?

“I hope you enjoy your stay, Laura. You can call me if there’s any problems," she says and I answer nothing, I just wave my hand and watch as she gets into her own car. Once she does, I enter the house with my suitcase and look around.

The house I rented is modern, elegant, big and with a great view of the city. If I'm honest, I'd like to live here someday. Los Angeles is the place where I feel the most free and I always find myself coming back.

In this city, everything is out of the ordinary, so anything goes. I like that.

I lock all the doors and take off my clothes to cover myself only with my silk robe. I absolutely love the feeling of silk on my naked body.

I walk barefoot through the gigantic modern kitchen, pouring myself a glass of the complimentary wine the owner left me, to continue my inebriation.

And then, I begin to investigate my subject: Adrien Belmore.