Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 44: Baptism By Fire.

Dr. Martini sank into the chair, her breath hitching as her fists clenched around the armrests. She leaned back, letting out a sigh that deflated her cheeks like a balloon losing air.

He tilted his head in her direction. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he spoke. "The Irishman," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted across her face.

"Pressing matters, then?" she asked, her voice soft.

Lord Maximus chuckled. "Indeed. Another operation."

Martini nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She sighed. "He hasn't been to the Shaque lately. Maybe you wouldn't give it a try either."

A neutral smile played on her lips.

Lord Maximus rose and walked smoothly to the wine rack, retrieving a bottle and two goblets. He returned to his seat, placing them on a side table with natural charm. "What brings that up?" he inquired, uncorking the wine.

Lord Maximus's chuckle died in his throat, replaced by a dangerous stillness. His gaze narrowed, a glint of steel flickering behind his eyes. "The almighty Shaque," he rumbled, his voice low and menacing, "doesn't bow its head to anyone."

He reached for the wine bottle, his knuckles turning white as he gripped it. He refilled her glass, the clink of crystal on crystal momentarily breaking the hush. "It never would, Doctor," he said, handing it to her.

Martini's fingers trembled as she reached for the glass. A frown etched itself between her brows, chasing away the forced smile that had been plastered on her face.

Hesitantly, she brought the glass to her lips, but instead of taking a sip, she set it down with a quiet clatter. The tremor in her hand was unmistakable.

"Easy there, Martini," he soothed, his voice seemingly different from the tension that had engulfed the room.

A faded smile formed between the lines of her lips, she finally managed, her voice tight. "So, what's the next move..."

"Until the Irishman sees me."
Lord Maximus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he studied her. A flicker of concern crossed his features for a brief moment, but a sly smile quickly returned.

"Seems Don Conti has also set his sights on the operation."

Dr. Martini shrieked, "And that's quite competitive, my Lord!" She reached for a glass of wine, downing it in one gulp.

"Never speak of competition again, Martini," Lord Maximus growled, his hand clamping over her mouth. "After this operation, I intend to make a deal with the Irishman. But no one, understand, compares to the Shaque." He slowly released his grip.

Her hands trembled as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her voice barely a whisper when she asked, "What plans do you have for Zayn?"

Lord Maximus's gaze was a slow burn. It sent shivers down her spine as he assessed her with narrowed eyes. "That's not your concern, Martini," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're here to take care of me."

A defeated sigh escaped Dr. Martini's lips, her shoulders slumping. "Does he even care?" she wondered, her gaze flickering away. Then, a thought struck her. "He might be useful for the operation," she blurted out, her voice regaining some urgency.

A sardonic smile played on Lord Maximus's lips. "I'm aware, Martini," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached for her hands, his fingers intertwining with hers in a gesture that demanded control, not comfort. "The operation will proceed as soon as I return."

Dr. Martini rose to her feet, a flicker of defiance replacing her fear. She paced the room, a sly smile playing on her own lips.

"You can't dispose of him," she countered, her voice regaining its strength. "His training has already begun."

Lord Maximus slammed his fist on the side table, sending the wineglass skittering. Wine splashed crimson across the tablecloth as he leaned towards her, voice low and dangerous. "Kill him then. Slit his throat yourself."

He paused, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that demanded an answer.

Dr. Martini met his fierce gaze head-on, a gasp escaping her lips. "My Lord!" she exclaimed. "I cannot take a life! My purpose is to heal, not to become an assassin!"

A cruel laugh erupted from Lord Maximus. "Then Zayn's demise will be your baptism by fire, Doctor. It happens as soon as we set foot back in Shaque."

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