Alek

Chapter 8: Mae Kazimi

Chapter 8: Mae Kazimi

Last night was the night I almost shat my pants and dug my grave with my own hands.

My own bare hands.

Alek freaking Russo followed me all the way to the Crimson Bar and I didn't even know? What the hell?

Ever since I've run into Alek, my mind has been off. I've been thinking more about him than I've been focusing on myself. And it's driving me insane.

INSANE.

"Are you listening?" It's Alek Russo again, and I think I've finally reached the point where I am so utterly sick of him and his stupid voice that I'll shoot myself with my own gun.

"Will you shut up for five seconds?" I snap, rubbing my pounding head with my index and thumb. "I just woke up ten minutes ago after you practically broke down my door!"

"Yeah well, we have a mole to catch and the faster we catch the mole, the faster I get to get rid of you so, once again, are you listening to what I've been saying this past six minutes and twenty seconds?"

I want to rip out his eyeballs and eat them for breakfast.

"Yes, something about the mole's correspondent and a party."

Alek and I sit in his office. Apparently, Alek's office is attached to his bedroom, which by the way, takes up half of the third floor which is the floor I also happen to be in. His office is nothing like his father's. It's full of bookshelf after bookshelf filled with books of all sizes and colours. It's warm with a couch and a soft rug. His table is so neat, with a computer in the center and a cup of steaming coffee on the left.

And there, on the chair, sits the annoying piece of shit himself, glaring at me.

He's the only piece of decoration in the room that belongs in the trash.

As if reading my thoughts, a scowl replaces his pursed lips, "What I was actually saying, is that I've gotten a message from one of my men talking about the mole's correspondent who will be also attending a party of a friend of mine. And we both are attending."

"A party?" I groan and bring my head down hard onto his table to bang it a couple of times. "A freaking party?"

"This is why your parents left you in a dumpster, Mae."

"And this is why everyone likes Lorenzo better than you," I snap, leaning back.

Alek shrugs as if it doesn't bother him, "The younger sibling usually gets the most attention. But I can't say you know what I mean because you've never even met your brother."

Okay, I see. This is what we're doing. Fine then. I'll play along.

"Well it's a good thing I don't want to meet him or my parents," I say smoothly, crossing my right leg over my left. "I mean, at least we both can say our mothers are dead to us, except yours is really dead while mines....well...she's dead to me."

This does not seem to faze Alek either and he simply takes a long sip of his coffee, "You would thrive in the Russo Mansion basement, Kazimi."

I don't know whether he means I'd thrive as a torturer or....as the person getting tortured.

I don't want to know.

"I'd love to see this famous basement," I shoot back.

"Oh you will," this time, there's a dangerous glint to his eyes when he looks at me. "And quite soon. In fact, after this party, we both will be paying it a visit."