Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You want us to protect the detective?" Roger asked while I signed some papers. I got out of bed this morning, Phoebe said I can, so I did.
I gave him a slight nod. "Yes, Roger."
"She's a detective."
"Your point being?" I looked up at him, his arms crossed.
"She can take care of herself, is my point."
I mean, yeah, I know she can take care of herself, but still, will she know if someone's going to shoot her from a building? Or getting hit by a car? No, right?
I grunted in response.
"Just kill her, Alsace."
That's the thing. I can't kill her. If I didn't know she had a person to take care of, I wouldn't even be sitting down here. If we didn't make any contacts, then she'd be dead by now. But no, I had to know her, I had to find out who she was, I had to feel her.
I had to fucking be with her for me to stop thinking about her.
I wasn't expecting it to be deeper.
"I'll think about what to do. Can you call my brother." I said.
"Which one?" he asked.
Right. I fucking have three more. "Vladis."
Roger nodded, walking straight outside swiftly. The New Yorkers, also known as D'Amato's, has now wrote back to us. I mean, I was going to throw it away, but I saw some interesting topics in it.
One that involved marrying. Since Vladis is definitely the last person to marry someone by the year of 2030, that's four years from now, it'll be better if he already has someone for the future. And I got Roger to call him in.
Since I already knew that Nathaniel and Kine will say no, I'm praying to God that my step-brother would say yes.
The door swung open, Vladis entered while he played with his knife.
He looked at me, throwing his knife up and catching it quickly. "What's up?" he asked.
I pointed at the chair, indicating him to sit down. He does as told, his arms resting on the arm chair. I cleared my throat, flipping the paper so he doesn't see.
His eyes found the paper for a hot second, then back to me.
His eyebrows raised, he opened his mouth again. "What's up?"
I shrugged. "Nothing much, you doing anything fun lately?"
He groaned, "Just tell me, stop playing around, brother."
"Jeez." I muttered under my breath. "Right. Okay, well, there's this marriage proposal for you?"
He doesn't respond, so I keep going. "With the New Yorkers, of course." I scoffed; why is explaining this hard? Really, I mean, if he placed his knife somewhere, maybe I'd be doing this real easy.
