The Order Of The Rose Episode Three: The Bitch Pack
The Order Of The Rose: Episode Three
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| Heading Off To Dinner With The Ladies |
The Bitch Pack
"Why all the fuss, Darria? It's just a dinner," Darren asked.
"It's not just a dinner; it's a 'Ladies Only' dinner," she replied with a smirk.
With a slight eye roll, Darren kept pressing. "You know that's not what I meant. I mean, why all the fuss about this Valentina woman?"
"Curiosity, mostly," Darria said, paused, then added, "and the rumors."
"Do tell," Darren insisted.
"Apparently, in Poland, Valentina started a women's-only club, society... not really sure of the details, but it was a group of eight of the wealthiest women in Eastern Europe. It wasn't a social club, but more of a business-oriented think tank. All of these women created businesses and pooled resources together. And according to Lady Edith, Valentina wants to do the same thing here."
"So it's more of a business dinner under the guise of a Ladies' Night Out, then?"
Darria laughed, but then took a more serious tone. "All of the women who were in that guild, or whatever you want to call it, dropped completely out of society. They don't attend functions. They stay out of media reach and off the gossip pages whose headlines they once dominated. All but Valentina and Lady Vorontsov of Russia."
"Wait, wasn't she found dead a few years back?"
"Not dead — murdered. They found her body on the banks of the Bug River, completely drained of blood and a gaping hole where her heart once beat."
"So that's where the rumors live, and your interest in this evening. Blood lusters."
"No... well, yes. But—"
"No buts. Just have fun."
🩸🩸🩸
Valentina arrived at La Provence an hour earlier than dinner. She had booked the private room and wanted to make sure all her setting details were ready. She dismissed all the servers and asked for privacy until her guests arrived.
Three bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape stood on the side bureau. She requested that one be opened. She took that bottle and placed it on a tray so nothing spilled on the stark white linens. Holding up her right index finger, her nail grew rapidly to a sharp, razor-like point. She pricked her left index finger just enough to let her blood start to flow. |
| Blood spiking the wine |
She carefully let three drops of blood fall into the wine bottle, then placed it back in its spot on the bureau. Her nail instantly retracted, and the small incision closed.
She sat and waited for her guests to arrive.
All the guests arrived within moments of one another — eight prominent, wealthy socialites from England and parts of Western Europe.
Once everyone was settled, Valentina dismissed the servers. They would be hailed back once the meeting was done, and dinner service would begin.
"Good evening, ladies. Before we start, let's toast the evening and future successes."
Valentina went to the bureau, took the bottle of wine, and evenly poured for her guests, including herself. Taking complete control of the moment, she raised her glass and toasted the ladies present. "Tonight, nine ladies raise a glass. Tomorrow, the city."
They drank.
The effect was immediate.
Valentina had control.
Eight ladies were now as malleable as silly putty.
Valentina would not turn them. There was no need.
Control was hers.
Eight ladies, their will now absent, listened intently to the plans Valentina laid out — a simple investment into the newly formed guild they proudly christened "The Bitch Pack."
In the short twenty minutes since the toast, the Bitch Pack had been seeded with three million pounds from each member. Money over which Valentina had sole discretionary power, and to which the ladies offered no resistance.
They couldn't resist.
Even untouched by suggestion, they likely would have offered little resistance on financial matters, for business was the masculine milieu and these were socialites, not businesswomen. But they would still have sensed that Valentina possessed the wiles to spar on that front as well as any man.
When Valentina was satisfied that she had put all plans in place and all ladies were on point, she turned, took her seat, clinked her wine glass, and said, "Take a rest."
Their suggestible state subsided, and without missing a beat, they conversed as if nothing had happened.
Small talk swelled.
Gossip shared.
Valentina summoned a server to start dinner service.
🩸🩸🩸
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| After Dinner Snark |
"So, spill it. How was the dinner?" Darren asked.
"It was great. The meal was wonderful."
"I wasn't asking about the meal. I was asking—"
"Oh, I know what you were asking."
"Well?"
"Can't tell you."
"What? Why?"
"Because..."
"Okay, I'll bite. Because why?"
"Oh, I know you can bite. But you do have a penis, right?" Darria said, laughing.
"Yes, but—"
"No buts. Ladies only, remember."
Frank aka Foxxfyrre
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