Chapter 2

Chapter 2

ALEJANDRO POV

The clock’s timely ticks and tocks filled in the silent space, the words ‘Tell me about yourself’ lingering in the air between us. Everything about being here left a bitter taste in my mouth, and made me ache for something entirely different.

I came here because somebody suggested I needed it. I needed to think about something; anything other than blood and white powder and reigning the underworld, yet all the red-haired bambolina did for the past eleven minutes and thirty-seven seconds was flash her undoubtedly fake tits in my direction and lift her skirt inches higher up her thighs.

A universal ‘I want to fuck you’ sign women flashed whenever they wanted someone up in their nooks and crooks!

I could fuck her right where she sat; considering I had already pictured all the ways I could switch positions in her like I was doing some yoga.

Yoga! Maybe I should try that shit. Maybe it would ease the blood lust and make me think like a human!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock…

My mind drifted to all places as I tried to come up with a decent way could describe myself in front of the shrink who looked like she was more interested in stripping naked in front of me than hearing whatever it was that was going to come out of my mouth.

And everything my mind touched had a hint of savagery and madness in it.

And blood.

“I am a mafia.” I blabbered. Kim’s eyes widened with horror before her lips parted slightly, then she carefully drew in her breath before giving a thoughtful nod and jotting something on her iPad.

A calm reaction? That’s a first. Normally, people shit themselves before I could even say a word. And once they found out who I was, they passed out clean. Which always ruined the fun. But this one here handled like a champ!

“I do not know much about the mafia and the underworld, and I assume you are here because something isn’t working for you.” She made it sound like a question.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I added a shrug. “You tell me.” I thinned my eyes at her, and she took in another stilling breath before she nodded again.

She was more grounded than she let on, and I was slowly letting go of the belittling image I had of her when I first walked in here.

I mean shrinks were cranky old women with ugly ass glasses, an ugly grey shirt and flat shoes. Not a skimpy skirt that rode up her thigh whenever she shifted in her seat, a tiny top that revealed more than needed, and lush red strands that could fit in my hand perfectly!

And no glasses.

“Alcohol?” She tilted her head to the side and regarded me fully; this time with sheer interest playing on her face.

I eyed her with a blank space at her rhetorical question. She coughed a small laugh, faced down on her iPad, and refocused on my face.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Clever! I like it.

“I’ll assume you do drugs too?!” The question came out with a hint of uncertainty.

“I sell them,” I stated, and she nodded with understanding.

“Mr. Rodriguez, I understand your line of work can be quite demanding, and hard if I use the term-,” I scoffed and flared to the side.

She had no idea!

“-and require utmost trust. Do you by any chance have a wife?” She asked, all playfulness erased from her face.

“I don’t,” I stated blankly. She nodded once again.

“And do you ever feel the need to have a life companion? Someone you trust wholeheartedly that could make you vulnerable, let you rest by their side and unwind?”

I had a life companion, and HE had a dick and loved girls more than he loved his own life. Trustworthy? Like a bloody angel. The man would lay his own life down for me.

But did I ever get vulnerable around him? Hell no. I would rather chew a jean jacket than let my guard down in front of that bastard.

Although he was the closest thing I had to a friend!

“I don’t need one,” I responded roughly, and she swallowed audibly at the bite in my tone!

I was a dangerous man. My life always edged on the brink of death and I had hugged and kissed the grim reaper a thousand times- more than a thousand times-, I did not need a bloody weakness in my life.

I looked up at Kim to find her writing something down. We sat in a long silence, and something about the background tick-tock seemed to lull the storm of blood lust that raged inside of me. Seconds turned to minutes, and before I knew it, an hour had passed.

Kim rose from her seat and glared at me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t wait to solve. Silence stretched on as we continued our stare down, and I grew uncomfortable. Terrible things happened when I was uncomfortable.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her eyes watched my finger closely as it tapped against my knee. She smiled to herself before refocusing her attention on my face.

I didn’t like the look she had in her eyes. Not even a tiny bit.

“So… what is the relationship between you and the number 3?” The question came out so clearly, but the weight of it punched me right in the gut. I felt the muscles of my jaw ticking, and the sudden urge to just erupt from my seat and wring her tiny neck.

It would be such a pleasure.

No one edged near THAT. No one!

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I said after a hard swallow. Lies! But I didn’t lie. I never did! I was just not comfortable discussing THAT with her. With anyone.

“Mr. Rodriguez, I don’t know if you came here with a clear answer of what it is you want. But in my line of work, you as my client need me more than I need you. We could sit here and do the stare down for as long as you like, but when the hour passes, you walk out that door, leave my paycheck with my receptionist, with you having achieved nothing.” She just said I needed her.

And she said it with a straight face.

“I am a gangster, Kimberly. Money is not a problem.” I tilted my head to the side and added a tiny smirk to my words.

Her eyes dropped to my lips before she quickly reverted them up.

“And I take that you have no problem wasting all of it away.” She said with a wave of her hand.

I chuckled.

We sat in silence for a few more seconds while she paced in front of me. Then she stopped.

“Back to my question. What is the relationship between you and Number 3? Is it an obsession? Or you are one of those who believe good things come in three?” She added a teasing smile at her last sentence.

I tried to appear unaffected.

An obsession? A lot of people thought it was. That I was just so infatuated with the number three everything in my life had to stick to that.

But it was more than that! It was what defined my life, what modeled me. To me, three was more than just a number. It was etched deep into the cores of my soul taking it out would be the death of me.

“The tiny buttons on your coat, each arm has three buttons. Your tie clip, sir, has three fine lines. And I bet underneath that coat, you have three armbands on one of your arms, cuff links decorated with three diamonds, or whatever precious gem your money could afford. And your shoes… each one has three holes left. As if the universe agreed with whatever it is you may be battling, you just had to have polycoria in your right eye, giving you three pupils.” She folded her arms after assessing me. The observation hit me like a whiplash, and I almost broke right there in front of her.

“And that finger of yours, Mr. Rodriguez, you always stop at 3. Coincidence?” She shook her head. “I think not.”

She walked to her chair and dropped to it, then reclaimed her iPad and wrote something.

“When we meet next week, I want you to tell me whether you know what is it that you want. And I am not talking about money or power Mr. Rodriguez. I am talking about that need that you have neglected for so long that you do not even realize that you are suffering because you have buried it in the corner.” Her words hit me hard like a sledgehammer, but I stared blankly and coldly at her.

What did she think she knew about me?

I was more complex than the king’s gambit… And I did need something.

Which sadly, did not belong to me. And the idea of snatching it from where it was brought me great joy than I have ever felt in my entire life.

I stood up and pushed my hands into my pockets, then turned and walked out the door without looking back.

I walked a few feet before my phone vibrated in my breast pocket. I fished it out and sighed when the name VIIPER flashed across the screen.

“Signor, I just got a call from Adam in London. The archduke is dead.” The last three words caused something to stir inside of me, and my chest ballooned with triumph. A smile formed on my lips and I slowly took a step forward.

“When is the burial?” I asked in a low voice, brushing a hand on my jaw to stifle the smile that was getting out of control.

“Next week Wednesday. And we had gotten a report on Rayana. Her fiancée bailed her out of prison. She was arrested after being caught with meth on her in a night club.” My eyes widened at the last sentence.

Rayana Elizabeth Mountbatten did drugs?

“Did she spend a night in a cell?”

“Yes.” Fuck!

“Find out who planted those drugs on her, and send them an ace of spades!” The line went dead for a heartbeat before he responded with a “You got it.”

“What should we do about the news following her arrest?”

“Her life is a long political charade. This will not do us any good. Block any media outlet that may publish anything regarding her arrest” He hummed his response. I could almost see him nodding enthusiastically.

“You got it. Let me get to it right away.” He called out.

“Viper?”

“Yes sir?”

“Be sure to contact the Mountbatten lawyer before the burial. It's time the archduchy received a new ruler.”