Influencer (Influencing Trilogy Book 2) Page 6

  Something else is warming my heart right now and it’s the rays from the scorching sun overhead. I didn’t pack much sun cream, mainly because I didn’t have the space in my luggage, but I can see now that it was a mistake and if I’m not careful I’m going to be leaving this island looking like a rooster. I can’t be having that, not when I need to look my absolute best for the party on Saturday.

  It’s only a few days now until I board the yacht for Zack’s birthday party and the anticipation is building online. Once I am done sunning myself here, which won’t be long with the way my skin is feeling, I will go back to my suite and film myself packing various cool items into my suitcase.

  Bikinis. Heels. Sunglasses.

  And the invitation for the party.

  It’s an idea that Emily and I came up with. We will both be posting similar videos to our accounts at the same time. That’s almost 200 million followers who will see our posts and begin clicking on the hashtags and learning about the upcoming party. They will also see the competition that Zack is running in which he is giving two lucky people the chance to be on board the yacht with us all too.

  All they have to do is enter their names and contact details and they will find out by Thursday night if they have been successful. The winner and a friend of his or her choice get an all-expenses paid trip to Miami, where they will join the biggest and best social media influencers in the world as we party the day and night away in one of the most beautiful locations on the planet.

  It’s the kind of competition I would have died to win back when I was just a humble girl in the Essex countryside and it’s great that Zack is giving two people the opportunity to have what will surely be one of the best times of their lives. Generosity like that, along with all the charity work that most influencers do, shows how much of a positive impact we can have on society and definitely hits back at the claims that social media influencing is just another sign that the world has gone mad.

  I peel my sweating legs off the sunbed that I’ve been lying on for far too long and reach to pick up my mobile phone from the shady spot where I left it. I am always paranoid about my phone overheating and so I try to keep it out of the sun as much as possible. I don’t think the owner of the hotel would be pleased if I told him that I couldn’t put any photos of his fancy new accommodation online because my mobile had spontaneously combusted by the pool.

  I check the screen and see several notifications demanding my attention. But it’s the message from an unknown number that intrigues me the most. I unlock my phone and open the app in which the message was received but as soon as I do then my relaxed state of mind is a thing of the past.

  The message is short but terrifying. I don’t know who sent it and there isn’t any context to it. It’s just one simple message amongst a dozen others on my phone. But reading it is enough to make me gather up the rest of my belongings and scurry back to my hotel room, leaving the soothing sunshine behind as I go in search of shelter and protection inside.

  But I’m not going inside to escape the UV rays. I’m going inside because I’m scared about the message I just received. Suddenly I don’t feel safe here anymore.

  Suddenly I feel like I did when Sebastian was still alive.

  As I make it back to my room and slam the door shut behind me, I slowly re-read the message, just to make sure it really does say what I thought it did. But unfortunately, it hasn’t changed. It’s still the same six scary words that I read by the pool. It’s still unclear who sent it. And it’s still a warning.

  Watch your back. Revenge is sweet.

  #2DaysBeforeTheParty

  #Hugs&Kisses

  Emily Bennett

  They say absence makes the heart grow fonder and while that may be true of Ryan and me right now, it is certainly true of my mum, Liz, and me. We’ve just met up for the first time in months and after a lot of public displays of affection we have finally taken our seats at the table where breakfast will soon be served to us.

  I wanted to treat mum today, so I booked us a gourmet breakfast at one of the most exclusive hotels in Central London. Of course she told me that I shouldn’t have gone to such a fuss for her and that she would have been happy with a bacon sandwich in a greasy spoon café as long as it meant getting to spend some time with me, but I know she is going to love this and I can’t wait to spoil her.

  The whole saga with Sebastian was scary for many reasons but most of all because my mum’s life had been at risk and that had been something I couldn’t bear to think about. My life had been at risk too, but as I was the one who had entered into the business arrangement with Sebastian, then if there were to be severe consequences, I should have been the one on the receiving end.

  My mum hadn’t knowingly engaged with a psychopath. She hadn’t put herself and others at risk in her single-minded pursuit to live her dreams. She was just an innocent woman who had lost her husband yet still managed to carry on going to work every day, paying the bills and putting food on the table. She hadn’t deserved any of the threats and fears that loomed over me and if there was one good thing that had come out of that time, it was that she still had no idea of the extent to which both our lives were previously at risk.

  But those days are over now and all that remains are the good times, like all the poached eggs and pancakes that are about to come our way just as soon as we are settled.

  ‘You look well’ I say, as we place our napkins across our laps and admire all the fancy cutlery on the table in front of us.

  ‘Thank you. It’s amazing what sleep and exercise can do for a woman my age’ she says, and I laugh.

  She isn’t even that old yet, but she has spent most of her life getting up early and working long shifts. The fact that she no longer needs to do that is clearly agreeing with her.

  ‘I like your hair. It’s very modern’ I tell her, referring to the new shorter haircut she is currently sporting which is a lot more stylish than the unkempt mess she used to rock before. I know mum stopped making an effort after dad died but it’s good to see that she is taking pride in her appearance again.

  ‘You’ve already seen it’ she says, brushing off the compliment a little shyly.

  It’s true that she sent me a photo of her new hairstyle a couple of weeks ago while I was abroad but the picture didn’t do it justice. Just like so many of the pictures I take of sunsets and beaches don’t capture the reality of how utterly breath-taking they are to see in person.

  ‘I know, but I’m just saying, it really suits you’ I reassure her, and she smiles again, happy to take the compliment this time.

  ‘Well what about you? You’re positively radiant’ mum says. ‘Tanned, toned and in love. Just look at you.’

  Now it’s my turn to blush slightly and bat away the compliments. But just like my mum, I know that what is being said is true. I’ve never felt better and I’ve never looked better. Spending so much time in warm climates has given me a healthy glow, and although I definitely wouldn’t consider myself toned, I am definitely less pudgy than I was before my influencing career took off. And there was no denying the last part of her compliment. I am certainly in love. Utterly, indescribably, head over heels in love.

  ‘So tell me all about Ryan’ mum says, settling into her seat and preparing for the juicy stuff.

  ‘I’ve told you everything there is to know’ I reply coyly, even though I’m well aware that the series of text messages I have sent her about my new boyfriend are nowhere near enough to feed her insatiable appetite for gossip.

  She is just about to tell me that she won’t let me get away with it that easily when two waiters arrive at our table, each holding a plate with a silver dish over the top of it. Mum and I both sit back as they place the plates in front of us and whip away the dishes, revealing two perfectly presented portions of eggs benedict.

  ‘Oh my, this looks wonderful’ mums says and I laugh, because I’ve never heard her say ‘oh my’ before and she is clearly doing it because she is in a posh e
stablishment and wants to come across as less working class than she is. She’s so funny.

  ‘Thank you’ I say to the smiling waiters as they nod and turn away from the table, the folded napkins in their hands swishing slightly as they walk.

  ‘Shall we?’ I ask, as I pick up my knife and fork and prepare to tuck in.

  ‘Of course but I still want to hear all about Ryan’ mum tells me, just to make sure that I haven’t somehow forgotten that I’m supposed to fill her in on the man that has been in so many of my social media posts recently.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got four courses here, there’s plenty of time’ I remind her, inadvertently drawing attention to the fact that no matter how great we may have looked walking into this restaurant, we will definitely have put on a few pounds by the time we leave it.

  As I poke my egg with my fork and see the runny orange yolk oozing out onto my plate, I listen to mum telling me all about how things are going with the charity we set up in memory of my dad. I feel bad that I don’t always get to give it my full attention due to my other commitments, but I have assembled a great team to run it and of course mum is working hard to raise awareness of it all the time.

  There is a large fundraiser in Billericay next month and I will be there to auction off several items that I have accrued for free during my time as an influencer, including rare dresses, designer handbags and even a pair of high heels made famous by the one and only Mason Manor.

  As I tuck into the perfectly cooked breakfast, I think about the phone call I got from Mason last night when I was in my hotel room after a busy day of meetings. She had sounded stressed over the phone as she told me about the message she had received while she had been sitting by the pool in Mykonos.

  Apparently, it said Watch your back. Revenge is sweet and although she had no idea who it was from, she was clearly concerned that it was somehow tied to what had happened with Sebastian earlier this year.

  I had assured her that that was extremely unlikely. Not only was Sebastian dead, but so was the hitman he had sent to kill her, and there was nobody else who would be sending such messages to us.

  I said it was most likely to be from a troll. The online world is full of them. What I definitely hadn’t agreed with was her fear that somebody else who had worked for Sebastian is coming for us now. That seems far-fetched and even if it is true, which it isn’t, then why would they warn her? And why haven’t I received a message? After all, I am the one who came up with the plan that ended up with me poisoning Sebastian in his hotel room in Manchester.

  I told her not to worry about it and that I would see her on Saturday in Miami for the party. I am having a great time with mum, but I am already looking forward to getting back to America. The yacht trip to The Bahamas and back is going to be epic but not as much as my reunion with Ryan will be the day after when he returns to the East Coast from his tour.

  Nothing can spoil my happiness now. Certainly not a silly text message to Mason.

  We had beaten Sebastian. We had won. There is nothing left to fear.

  Unless PhoGlo crashes.

  Now that would be a nightmare.

  #TickTick

  Ivan Ilghiz

  It’s almost time. Forty-eight hours from now the eight influencers that used to work for Sebastian will be dead and I will have kept my word to my former boss to avenge his death. Not only that, but many other prominent influencers will also have been wiped off the face of the Earth and thus there will be a rather large hole that needs to be filled in the online community. That’s where the six future stars of PhoGlo that I have carefully assembled will swoop in and scoop up all those millions of people who are looking for a new star to align themselves with.

  Then I will get to work pushing my own agendas and business interests and it will only be a matter of time until I become one of the most powerful men in Russia. I always dreamed of being President but with the power I will soon have at my disposal, maybe that dream will move closer to becoming reality.

  Not bad for somebody who spends most of their time working in the finance industry.

  Whereas Sebastian was well groomed, charismatic and charming, I admit I possess none of those qualities. But I have money, and a lot of it, and therefore I can still make my voice heard in a world that will always value wealth over most other things. And these days it’s not as if a long career in politics is a prerequisite to becoming a President. Plenty of other nations leaders have proven that.

  I have been in contact with the person I have hired to eliminate so many of my competitors and I believe everything is on track for a successful mission this Saturday. She is already in Miami and has laid the necessary groundwork to ensure that she will be on that yacht full of influencers when it leaves the harbour this weekend and, most importantly, she will be the one making sure that it never makes it back there later that day.

  Some people who are paying millions of rubles to have someone killed might want to be there to see it happen. They might crave the drama of it all, and even want to engage in a little theatrics beforehand, like warning the subject that the end is nigh for them.

  But I have no interest in such things. I don’t care to tip off those who are about to die, just for the sake of a cheap thrill, which is why I have not engaged in any form of communication with Sebastian’s former influencers, at any point since his death. I don’t want them to have the slightest idea what is about to happen to them. The last thing they will be aware of is that they are having a pleasant time on a yacht and that perhaps they have had a little too much to drink.

  Then it will be darkness.

  Sudden, permanent, unescapable darkness.

  They will never know what hit them, which only seems fair because I’m sure it was the same for Sebastian when he died. I doubt he saw the end coming for him when it did, even with all his paranoia about his influencers turning on him one day. And so that is the way it will be for those that participated in his death.

  I have also made it clear to the person carrying out the hit on the yacht this weekend that she is in no way to engage with the subjects, lest they get suspicious and escape from the deadly situation they are in. And I know that wish will have been respected. The person I have paid to do this job is a true professional. That’s the reason why I paid her so much.

  With nothing standing in the way of what is planned for Saturday, I can afford to relax a little, pour myself a glass of whiskey and watch the first snow flurry of autumn starting to fall outside my office window. The end of summer in Russia can be a marker of bleak times ahead but as I have grown older, I have discovered that there is comfort to be found in the testing weather conditions that befall this nation at the coldest time of the year.

  The cold isn’t for the weak or vulnerable. It will break the will of many, and it will certainly break the health of most. That is why many people on this planet run from the cold, seeking warmer temperatures where they can be more at ease and function at what they believe is an optimum level.

  You don’t see many influencers trying to make their followers jealous with photos of snowdrifts and pale skin. They only want you to see the blue skies and the suntans. They think that is the only way of life that is aspirational. They don’t see the positives of freezing winds and driving rain. They don’t see the benefits of struggle and hardship. They only want perfection, and they are no different to the people who follow them.

  It stands to reason then that those who are able to endure these harsher climates are tougher than most, both physically and mentally. Where I come from, people have no time for being weak and vulnerable. You simply wouldn’t survive here without an unbreakable mindset. We aren’t pampered or mollycoddled. We are workers, we are tough, and we adapt to whatever situations are thrown at us.

  I am the same in business. Sebastian didn’t adapt and so now he is unfortunately extinct, but I don’t plan on going the same way. I will run my own influencing business using different methods and strategies to those employe
d by my former boss. I will have much tighter controls over my influencers but there will be one key difference.

  They won’t be aware of it.

  While I know that Sebastian liked to rule with an iron fist, imposing his strict set of rules on his employees and gaining leverage against them so they felt like they were trapped, I know that is not the ideal way to keep your workers in line. The last thing I need is a team of rich, influential figures scattered all across the world, hating me and plotting my downfall from afar.

  The saying that “you should keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” is a well-known one but is especially critical here. Sebastian had no friends. I was probably his closest ally and even then, it was a purely transactional relationship. I made him money, he made me money. That was as deep as it ever got between us. And I know he treated his influencers the same. And that was his downfall.

  He didn’t treat them like friends but he also didn’t view them as his enemies and so he certainly didn’t keep them as close as he should have. Being able to hack into their phones and see their whereabouts wasn’t a strong enough measure to control them. Ultimately, it was they saw him as the enemy and the fact that he didn’t nurture his relationships with them more intelligently is the reason why I am not sharing this whiskey with him right now.

  But I will treat my influencers like friends. I will keep them close. And they won’t even know that I’m the enemy. So they will never plot against me and no one will ever have to avenge my death like I am forced to do now.

  I can’t wait for Saturday to be over because then I can stop thinking about the past and focus fully on the future. But for now I will be patient, just like I will be as I wait for this bad weather to pass. When autumn falls in Russia many natives see it as an opportunity to retreat indoors and learn new skills that they can utilise to the full when spring arrives in the new year.