If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
"I want to buy many dresses for my Madam," Caleb commanded, the sheer financial weight of his order hanging in the air. "I want the finest silks, the most delicate lace, and the most spectacular designs you possess. I want an entire wardrobe tailored specifically for her. But most importantly, Charles, I want a gown for tomorrow's coronation that will make every single high society woman in this city fall to their knees. Money is absolutely no object. Can you fulfill this request?"
Charles, hearing that absolute, uncompromising command from the most dangerous man in the state, frantically nodded his head. The sheer financial weight of the order, combined with the terrifying presence of the new Don, sent a jolt of pure, electrified adrenaline straight through the tailor's meticulously groomed frame.
"Of course, Don McLaughlin! But of course!" Charles stammered, his thick French accent becoming even more pronounced in his sheer panic and eagerness to please. He bowed again, gesturing expansively toward the rear of the shop.
"I will personally show you and the Madam the absolute best collections that the House of De Coursey currently has in its inventory! From the most elegantly understated daywear to the most fancy, extravagant gowns and dresses we can possibly offer! Nothing but the pinnacle of Parisian fashion for the Lady of the Don!"
Caleb, hearing that enthusiastic submission, nodded his head with a big, deeply satisfied smile. He leaned forward slightly, resting both hands on the silver head of his cane, while adding a vital stipulation to the massive order.
"And, of course, with the accessories that come as well, right, Monsieur Charles?" Caleb prompted, his tone polite but leaving absolutely no room for debate. "A gown is nothing without its proper accoutrements. I am speaking of the matching shoes, the wide brimmed hats, the imported kid leather gloves, the silk parasols, the jewelry... any kinds of accessories required to make the ensemble completely flawless."
Charles nodded his head frantically, his waxed mustache twitching with nervous energy. He clasped his hands together, "Yes, yes, oui, absolument, certainement!" a couple of times in rapid fire French accents and words.
The tailor quickly moved out from behind his polished mahogany counter, practically gliding across the floorboards, while signaling for Caleb and Mary-Beth to follow him toward the exclusive, VIP fitting suites located in the private back rooms of the establishment.
Both Mary-Beth, whose dark eyes were already wide with absolute wonder, and Caleb followed Charles deeper into the luxurious store.
As they moved toward the rear, Antonio, Silvio, and the four elite perimeter guards stayed behind in the main showroom. They did not need to crowd the Madam in the fitting rooms, but their presence in the front was absolute. Silvio and the guards were, of course, on high alert.
The giant enforcer crossed his massive, tree trunk arms over his chest, his scarred face set in a terrifying scowl that sent the remaining high society patrons, including the sweating state senator, scurrying out the front door in absolute terror.
The guards fanned out, securing the windows and the main entrance, establishing a lethal perimeter. In case anything happened on their watch, in case a rival gang or a foolish bounty hunter decided to make a move, they could immediately react to it with overwhelming, devastating firepower.
Meanwhile, separated from the heavily armed reality of the mafia by a pair of thick velvet curtains, Charles began to shower many kinds of dresses and gowns upon Mary-Beth and Caleb.
The private fitting room was a vast, circular chamber lined with massive, gold gilded mirrors that reflected the warm light of the gas chandeliers. Plush velvet fainting couches were positioned in the center for the gentlemen to sit, while highly trained, silent seamstresses immediately rushed in carrying bolts of fabric and pre tailored masterpieces.
Charles presented a stunning array of garments that perfectly fit the grand occasion for tomorrow that Caleb had described to him. He brought out heavy, shimmering silks, deep velvets, and intricate French lace.
While showcasing the coronation gowns, Charles also, at the same time, pointed out which dresses were perfect for Mary-Beth to go out into the city, which ones were most suitable to use at home while lounging in the estate, and provided an entire, exhausting curriculum for each kind of activity that the high society of Saint Denis uses to dictate their wardrobes.
"This one, Madam," Charles explained, holding up a beautiful, soft rose pink taffeta walking dress with delicate white lace trim at the collar and cuffs. "This is perfect for a morning stroll through the Garden District or attending a high tea. It is light, it breathes in the Louisiana humidity, yet it projects undeniable wealth."
He then snapped his fingers, and an assistant brought forward a darker, much more structured garment. "And this, a deep burgundy riding habit, cut from the finest imported English wool. Should you wish to ride your horses through the surrounding country, this provides both modesty and absolute aristocratic elegance."
Caleb and Mary-Beth listened intently to the rapid-fire, highly educational explanations that Charles was giving as he pointed at each dress or gown. He detailed where the materials were imported from, the silks from the Orient, the wools from Scotland, the lace hand woven in the monasteries of France, and exactly what specific social occasion was perfect for it to be used.
Mary-Beth was very, very happy. As she stood in the center of the mirrored room, surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of exquisite clothing, she felt a profound, overwhelming sense of surreal joy.
This was exactly like the romantic stories she imagined in her head and wrote down in her journals. It was the classic, beloved trope playing out in real life, how the beautiful, humble female lead was accompanied by the powerful, wealthy, and dangerous male lead on a lavish shopping spree that transformed her into a queen.
She looked over at Caleb, who was sitting casually on the velvet couch, his long legs crossed, watching her with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.
And Caleb was incredibly happy as long as Mary-Beth was happy. The money meant absolutely nothing to him. He had hundreds of thousnad of dollars in untraceable bearer bonds sitting and locked in his basement, while in his inventory he have so much money and gold's that it was insane.
Watching the anxiety and the trauma of her past life completely wash away, replaced by the giddy, radiant excitement of a woman stepping into her true worth, was the greatest return on investment he could ever ask for.
Soon, the presentation transitioned into the fitting. Mary-Beth began to try each of the dresses and gowns that caught her eyes, stepping behind an ornate folding screen with the assistance of two highly skilled female attendants.
She emerged wearing the rose pink afternoon dress, matching it alongside the accessories, of course, to make it perfectly complete. She wore delicate white kid leather gloves that buttoned at the wrist, a wide brimmed straw hat adorned with a single, sweeping ostrich feather, and carried a beautiful, hand painted silk parasol to shield her from the sun.
Caleb nodded his approval, his eyes tracking her every movement. "We'll take it. And everything she is holding."
She went back behind the screen, emerging minutes later in a stunning, midnight blue evening gown meant for the opera, the bodice shimmering with tiny, hand sewn glass beads that caught the light like stars.
"Beautiful," Caleb murmured, his voice low and appreciative. "Take it."
But the true test was finding the centerpiece of the entire excursion. For tomorrow, the grand coronation banquet where she would be introduced to the mafia capos, the Mayor, and the absolute elite of the state.
Several luxurious and elegant gowns with their matching accessories caught her eyes, but there was one that stood entirely apart from the rest.
When Mary-Beth stepped out from behind the screen wearing it, Caleb actually lost his breath for a fraction of a second.
It was a masterpiece of deep, rich emerald green velvet. The fabric was so heavy and luxurious it seemed to absorb the light, cascading down her figure in perfect, sweeping folds.
The bodice was structured and elegant, featuring a delicate overlay of black Chantilly lace that added an air of dark, mysterious romance entirely fitting for the Lady of the Underworld. The neckline was tasteful but striking, framing her collarbones perfectly.
To accompany it, Charles had selected a pair of elbow length black silk gloves, a stunning emerald choker necklace that rested perfectly against her skin, and a dramatic, wide brimmed black velvet hat adorned with a subtle veil that added an aura of untouchable, aristocratic danger.
Mary-Beth looked at herself in the massive, gold gilded mirrors. She didn't look like an female thief. She didn't look like a thief on the run. She looked like a terrifyingly beautiful, incredibly powerful monarch.
She turned to Caleb, her dark eyes shining, silently asking for his verdict.
Caleb also entirely agreed that it matched perfectly with her style. It was elegant, powerful, and commanded absolute respect. He stood up from the velvet couch, closing the distance between them, and gently took her gloved hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
"That is the one," Caleb stated, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "Tomorrow, you will wear this, and the entire city will bow to you."
Mary-Beth blushed deeply, a mix of sheer delight and sudden, overwhelming apprehension regarding the cost. She looked at the intricate beadwork and the sheer volume of imported velvet.
She leaned in close, whispering to him so the tailor couldn't hear. "Caleb... it's magnificent, but it must cost an absolute fortune. Are you sure? We've already selected so much..."
Caleb simply smiled, raising a hand to gently cup her cheek. He chose to ruthlessly buy them all for her, and so Caleb persuaded her and told her to do it without a single ounce of guilt.
"I told you back at the homestead, sweetheart," Caleb murmured softly, his max level Persuasion Skill enveloping her in a warm blanket of financial security. "Money isn't a problem for them anymore. I didn't conquer this city just to look at the ledgers. I conquered it to give you the world. Do not look at the price tags. Just tell me what makes you feel beautiful."
Hearing that absolute, unbreakable promise, the last remnants of her hesitation completely vanished.
And after that, the floodgates opened. Mary-Beth bought several more dresses, day gowns for walking the estate gardens, heavy riding coats for the winter, and also an exquisite selection of nightgowns, sheer silk chemises and heavily embroidered satin robes, or her to use, alongside their accessories, of course. Hats, shoes, gloves, parasols, and hosiery were piled high onto the mahogany cutting tables.
All of this took a very long time, of course. The sun began to dip lower in the sky outside the shop windows, casting long, golden shadows across the commercial square. The meticulous process of measuring, selecting fabrics, and pinning hems for alterations was an exhausting, hours long endeavor.
But no one dared to protest. The seamstresses worked until their fingers bled, and Charles De Coursey ran back and forth between the storeroom and the fitting suite, sweating profusely through his fine suit, because Caleb was present. The Don simply sat on the velvet couch, drinking a glass of imported brandy that the tailor had nervously provided, projecting an aura of lethal patience.
As the massive shopping spree finally drew to a close, Charles, of course, had a small headache forming behind his eyes. Not only was the sheer volume of the order staggering, but since some of the clothes needed immediate, highly complex adjustments to fit Mary-Beth perfectly for the banquet tomorrow, he would have to keep his entire staff working through the night, paying them triple overtime to finish the intricate tailoring by dawn.
But Charles De Coursey was a businessman first and foremost. He recognized that this was a monumental, once in a lifetime opportunity to completely secure his standing with the new regime.
To curry favor with Caleb, Charles desperately wanted to sell the dresses for less than their actual value. He wanted to show the new Don that he was an entirely loyal, highly accommodating asset to the mafia's commercial network.
Charles moved behind his grand mahogany counter, his fountain pen scratching furiously across a heavy ledger as he tallied up the massive mountain of silk, velvet, lace, and accessories.
Caleb stood up from the couch, walking over to the counter and leaning casually against the polished wood. Through his Max Level Business Skill, Caleb, of course, instantly noticed what the tailor was doing. His mind calculated the raw material costs, the import taxes, the labor of the seamstresses, and the standard high society markup with supernatural, flawless precision.
He saw Charles deliberately crossing out figures, slashing the prices of the emerald velvet gown by forty percent, and entirely removing the cost of the accessories from the final tally.
Caleb noticed this blatant attempt at financial groveling, but he said nothing at first, simply watching the sweating Frenchman work.
And after Charles finally finished counting it, he turned the heavy ledger around to face Caleb.
"Don McLaughlin," Charles said, his voice trembling slightly with a forced, overly generous smile. "For the entire wardrobe, including the rush alterations for tomorrow's grand banquet, the total comes to... Two thousand, five hundred dollars. It is a special, highly discounted rate for the new leadership of our beloved city."
Eighteen hundred dollars was a staggering amount of money, enough to buy a modest farm in the Heartlands, but Caleb's Business Skill knew the absolute truth. The actual, fair market value of the bespoke Parisian garments, the imported jewelry, and the emergency overnight labor was significantly higher.
Caleb didn't accept the discount. He didn't want the merchants of Saint Denis to think he operated like Angelo Bronte, who routinely extorted goods for free and bankrupted local businesses just to flex his power.
Caleb was building a corporate empire, he needed the legitimate economy to thrive, and he needed the merchants to respect him as a fair, incredibly wealthy capitalist, not just a violent thug.
Caleb goes to pay the correct, un discounted amount, which was exactly 3,500 dollars.
He didn't ask for a line of credit. He didn't ask Antonio to write a promissory note. Caleb simply reached into his rugged leather Vaquero satchel. In reality, he was interfacing with his dimensional inventory space, seamlessly pulling out banded stacks of crisp, non sequential, large denomination dollar bills that he had extorted from the bank the previous day.
He pulled out the stacks of cash and dropped them onto the polished mahogany counter with a heavy, highly authoritative thud. Charles stared at the mountain of cash, his eyes bugging out of his head. He quickly counted the bands. Seeing this, Charles immediately began to panic, thinking he had somehow offended the Don by giving a discount.
...
Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 3,322 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 282,992 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, 1 Senator Pendleton Sealed Envelope, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -