"Be on your best behavior. They are our equals, and in a position of great power. I will not have any of your antics tonight. Am I understood?" came the gruff, hushed tone of Gaston Chevalier. Not taking the effort to look at the young woman by his side at the dining table, the man continued. "You know your role. Watch her, and learn. This is an important meeting and I will not have you making a fool of me. You are to remain silent unless spoken to. You will not reveal any sensitive information, and you most certainly will not forget your etiquette. You are to make an impression on them. You are a woman now, and you will act like one" her finished, a toxic tip to the end of his words. Even spoken under his breath, the tone was clear. She did not mistake it.
"Yes Daddy... Father" Came a swift correction. Though still a moment too late. She felt the pain of his grip across her right wrist. The only form of punishment he could hide in such a public setting, she imagined. It had all changed so suddenly, her family relations. Most of her life, she had called the man who spoiled her 'Daddy'. He had rarely been home, but remained attentive and generous when he was. She had been showered with gifts and affection, and returned it in kind. Sometimes she'd draw a picture. Other times cookies, or pancakes. She had tried her best to be a respectable, and cherished daughter. Really, it was all she'd ever wanted. Yet, times change. In this city, it seemed everyone changed, and never for the better. Such a perfect place, and yet so ugly deep down. In more than one way, she felt it mirrored herself.
Everything had changed once she reached the age of twenty one, a mere five months back. She was to call him 'Father', not Daddy. A sign of maturity and respect, he had said. While disappointing, she couldn't argue it. She was a young woman, and he was a business man. More or less, it was something she was just ready to accept. However, the changes kept coming. Sometimes small, other times life changing. At first it was slow. One thing a week. Yet as time went on, she soon found everything to have been flipped upside down. While her father had previously supported her preference in her middle name, Aveline, there was a strict change in heart.
'You are a woman now, and you will use your proper name, Channelle'. And from that moment on, that was that. She was Channelle. The changes were personal at first, though before she could realize it, his control was seeping into her every day life, her job, everything about her. Mutual banking control turned into seizing control of her money. One dinner at her workplace, the 8th Street Raaz, turned into a new job at the prestigious La Fleur. What few friends she had, barely contacted her, and from time to time she'd find herself set up for a date with a mysterious, rich man.
Life had been spinning out of control, and by now she wasn't living her life. She wasn't Aveline. She was Channelle. It was only after her father's control was so complete, that he had brought her into a pocket of his world. The underside of Malantra, the home of the crime lords. The successful and proud businessman she had thought her father to be, was a lie. Yet, she here she was, not avoiding the crooked man, but sitting beside him, dolled up and awaiting deployment as one of his many agents. How it all came to this point was still a blur, though there was no escaping it now.
Tonight, they were to dine with an influential man, with a great deal of control over the city. He and his own daughter were to arrive, to discuss business. An illustrious hotel chain owner, responsible for many of the city's accommodations, as well as their restaurants. Suitably, they were here tonight in one such restaurant. Chanelle of course, was a waitress at La Fleur, another of their establishments. She knew she was little more than a chess piece to him now that she had matured, but wasn't being part of the game, better than ignorance?
The plan was simple. Dine with the two, and while her father discussed business, she was to analyze the both of them, and play nice with the daughter. With any luck, the two children would hit it off and become friends. Should it fail, Gaston's contingency plan was to place Channelle as a business woman, to meet with the woman and further their negotiations. No matter what it took, Gaston wanted control of the hotels, either directly, or indirectly. As the owner of a third of the city's extensive entertainment industry, Gaston had a great deal of pull, and was not a man to be taken lightly either. With two powerhouses at one dinner table, it was certain to be a productive night.
Channelle had been prepped for the dinner by Gaston's maid, Matilda. As a 'former' tomboy, Channelle was incapable of properly dressing herself for such an occasion. Matilda, much like her father, had decided that once she was legal, she was to dress and act like a lady, instead of the boyish 'mess' she had been tolerated to be up until this point. Still, There was a great beauty beneath the hoodies and sneakers, brought out tonight by a simplistic, yet stunning
red dress that showed off her bust and legs far more than she was comfortable with. Having been nearly forced into it only hours prior, Channelle had tried to find positivity in the fact that was far less 'sexy' and revealing than it could have been. She was not eager to see Matilda's idea of a date night dress. To her continued dismay however, the maid had made sure to paint her nails a matching coat of crimson, with lips to match. Her hair, a usual mess of brunette tangles, had been tamed into a elegant, braided up-do. The waist length hair was quite the weight to feel piled uptop her head, and Channelle was not pleased. Still, she didn't dare complain. She held little pull with her daddy anymore, the kind and generous man she thought she knew, was a ghost, and little more.
In the end, Channelle wasn't all too surprised by her father's secret identity. She hadn't seen it coming, certainly, though with the knowledge in hand, every mystery of her life had fallen into place. Where he ran off to all the time, his late hours, her lavish room and furnishing, even the private academy she had called her school for three years. She was a spoiled princess, but always wanted to be a plain Jane. She knew now it had been frustrating for Gaston. Whether he was trying to replace his wife with his daughter, or simply make her worthy of her late mother, she wasn't all too sure. His plans never worked, she never became the girlish beauty queen he wanted. Without any siblings to mold, he had little choice but to use his daughter, and ensure she turned out how he desired, one way or another.
She knew it all, and yet still, here she was. The table set beautifully, with red table cloth, gold trimming, the finest cutlery and wine glasses in the city, with menu's at the ready. The restaurant was flawless in presentation, complete with diamond chandeliers and soft jazz to set the mood. Before turning of age, she had always assumed this kind of thing was simply the charm of Malantra. A city so perfect, so built upon the desires of society, and catering to their fancy. Here, watching her fellow restaurant patrons talk it up, she was in tune with it all. The music, the waitresses, everything was paid for by dirty money, and deliberately placed. Noone was an accident, nothing was left to chance. This whole city ran like clockwork from the shadows. Every last detail manipulated, every last person on someone's secret payroll. How she had stayed ignorant to it for so long? A mystery. Perhaps the shroud of youth. Now she knew better. Now she was a part of it all.
Gaston glanced to his side, checking his phone all too briefly. She knew it was time. "They've arrived. Put on a smile. Remember your responsibilities, and do not ruin this dinner" Gaston's hushed voice growled. Some would think such words an indication of mistrust, or doubt in Chanelle's loyalties. Though anyone who served him, or even Channelle herself, knew otherwise. He trusted her. He knew she wouldn't mess up. He knew she couldn't. Failure was never tolerated. Had he thought her capable of any less, there would have been a replacement 'daughter' here instead.
"Of course, Father" came hte correct, and prompt response. Followed of course, by a pleasant smile.
