Differences

Chapter 22- Luke

New Chapter :)

Warning: this chapter mentions drugs and illegal activity. Please read what is comfortable for you.

New ideas and one obsessed man 😏🧐

Enjoy your read!!!!
💖💖💖

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

These past few weeks has been a mess.

Work seemed to be never ending, and the new project was not working out the way I had hoped it would. I had to patient. I had to play my cards wisely. I had to keep myself composed. Disaster should always be expected.

Our main business income was drugs. The best place to distribute them? Nightclubs and Casino's.

We already owned plenty of clubs. All with different target markets. And they have all been successful. But Casinos? We only owned two. And they were both similar to each other. They were targeted towards stupid, simple-minded gamble addicts relieving their itch to waste their whole income or whatever they owned. Sure, they also wasted away their cash on drugs, but it wasn't our ideal minimal effort, high return scheme.

Therefore, I have decided to target the filthy rich.

Those who had stash upon stash of wealth, scattered across their mansion of a home. Celebrities, influencers, Business CEO'S, and any politicians were a satisfying welcome.

Of course, targeting this group comes with its cautionary actions. They had the influence, network, and money to figure out if the place they're going were going to be worth their time and money. It wouldn't do any of them good if the public discovers they were gambling, drinking, sniffing shit up their nose in a place ran by the underworld. And getting the word out there does take its time. Just making it easily accessible to them and making the place look good doesn't make it any different from any other casino's they could opt for.

What they needed the most was privacy. An assurance that they would never get caught. An assurance that there wouldn't be public loitering around. An assurance that there wouldn't be camera's ready to flash at their spur of the moment move.

And what they loved most, was furniture, paintings, decorations, and anything in between and outside the box that obnoxiously howls wealth and money. Anything to illuminate to other filthy rich their personal status.

Level of wealth. Level of influence. Level of power.

It was pathetic but it suited us fine. Because at the end of the day, although we would be painted as the enemy of society, we were all the same. We made money from people's misfortunes and boredom.

And we were going to continue to take their wealth.

Fortunately, security and money wasn't a problem for us. That we could do. Security and safety was what our world is built upon, with the exceptions of disloyal shitheads and those who had enough nerve to run their mouths when they weren't supposed to. Money we had. And we were going to make more after this project comes to life. It's a win-win situation.

Or at least I was going to turn into that.

But the problem was publicity as well as disguising who we are. Running illegal clubs or casinos without the officials knowing was never a problem. Especially if you have a few friends who were infiltrated with them. Police, lawyers, government officials. They are always handy.

But the rich only got to places owned by known rich.

We aren't meant to be known.

I wrack my obviously unintelligent brain for hours on end, nothing coming up. Absolutely nothing. Not a single sparking idea. At least none that would actually prove to be successful. It pissed me off all the more.

Suddenly, a pair of hands takes a hold of my own. Alaina's

"Don't do that." She says, a scowl on her face, eyes filled with concern. But I wasn't sure what she was referring to and I must've expressed a quizzical expression. "Don't bite your nails. It's not good for you." She adds on. Oh, it was that?

"Why?" I question. Not because I was curious as to why I shouldn't be doing such thing but because seeing her concerned is an adorable sight to see. 

"It could damage your teeth and nails. It's also an easy route for bacteria to enter from the mouth. There's no good in doing it."

"Oh" Was all I could say. I didn't even realise I was doing it.

"What's the problem? Is there something going wrong?" She questions, tilting her head a little, deep brown eyes staring into mine.

"Nothing really" I say, unsure of what else to say.

"But you only bite your nails when something isn't going your way." She replies back, certainty and knowingness coloring her statement.

It was like every close women I have to interact with, knew me like they have read my entire life and characteristics through a book. My mom, Charlotte, Rei, Sofia, and now Alaina. Except Alaina and Mom seemed to be another species of human. Not only did they apparently know my whole life, and my characteristics, but they also seemed to know what emotions and thoughts were passing through my head.

It wasn't fair that they knew what was going through my head but I had no clue what was going through theirs. Especially hers. 

"Just my new project. Trying to target the wealthy without blowing our identity." I reluctantly reply and now she was the one thinking. It was cute how she placed her chin on her fisted hand, head tilted, her eyes blinking more often than it usually does.

"Would faking your identity be any good? Create some website claiming that you're a self-made millionaire by being some designer or something. An occupation where you're not really in the public eye. And then make it out like you stay away from publicity because that's something too low for you. I'm sure the rich would like that. They love being in the circle of publicly unknown rich. I think it makes them feel superior." She shares, explaining her idea.

I did think of faking my identity when brainstorming, but I didn't really have creativity to think beyond that. Consequently, I trashed the idea. How she manage to think of creating a new identity of me now becoming a renowned designer slash businessman, opening a casino, was beyond me. This meant our identity was hidden well. Of course, I would most likely have to meet them a couple of times. But face isn't an issue. We can always mask it. Our craftsman were  talented at that kind.

"That's actually a great suggestion. Thanks. I think I'll take that on board." I thanked.

I was very thankful that I have someone who had a working, intelligent brain unlike mine. And she was my wife to be no less.

"Your welcome." She replies back, her face now beaming, eyes twinkling, with a big bright smile that could melt me away whole.

I was so fucking obsessed with that smile. I could and would, spend my entire fucking fortune if it meant that I could see it over and over again.

Anything for that smile.