When We Met

CH 6 Rosaline

We had finally settled on a solid plan - lay low at Alejandro's aunt's place in London until we could get our next moves sorted. The week leading up to our departure from Argentina passed in a tense blur of preparation and planning. Before I knew it, we were boarding the plane like it was just any normal holiday trip instead of us going deeper into hiding as wanted fugitives.

But I knew the second my feet hit British soil, my entire world would shift. No longer would I be Roslaine, the devastated heir to the Fernandez cartel fortune. In a blink, I would need to fully immerse myself as Rose Miller - a fresh persona as bland and unmemorable as they came.

"Well, this is nice. Thank god we upgraded to business class," Alejandro purred as we settled into the plush accommodations. "A sixteen-hour flight needs to be done in at least some level of style and comfort."

He flashed me one of those wolfish grins, his dark eyes skimming over the opulent surroundings in shameless approval. I couldn't help but smile back a little at his transparent attempts to find any indulgence possible, even in our dire circumstances. Alejandro had always been that way - appreciating the finer things in life to an almost gaudy extent, forever the unrepentant hedonist.

"I'm glad you approve of the amenities," I replied evenly. "It wasn't too excessive an upgrade given our...resources."

That part was true. Despite having all my family's assets and legal financial accounts frozen by the authorities, I had wisely taken steps to steadily siphon off sufficient funds over the years into discrete solo accounts my father helped me curate. Matias had been invaluable in helping convert all those funds into cash that could be smuggled out, then methodically establishing new identities and credible background histories for our new cover stories.

Between my liquid assets and Alejandro's more illicit income streams, we had enough to firmly establish ourselves for the foreseeable future as we laid the groundwork for our eventual rise back to power. Even enough to afford these kinds of small luxuries to make our transitional period slightly more comfortable.

"Rosaline, are you loca?" Matias cut in gruffly, slanting a disapproving look my way. "We can't be flashing that kind of money around wantonly. We need to conserve every penny if we're going to have a hope of surviving out here, building back from the ashes."

I bristled a little at his rebuke but knew he was partially right. Typical Matias - forever the pragmatist, addicted to operating with militant efficiency and austerity measures. He had been born into abject poverty on the East End streets of London before being recruited as one of my father's foot soldiers, after all. Any lapses into extravagance always triggered his survivalist instincts.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, old man," Alejandro tossed a mocking wink toward our travelling companion. "Rose here is my girlfriend, after all. You know I like keeping my ladies puddin' happy with the better things if you catch my drift."

He punctuated the words by draping a possessive arm around my shoulders, pulling me in with a lascivious grin as if we really were some happy couple off travelling rather than a hundred international criminals.

I tried not to grimace at the physical contact and overt PDA, reminding myself it was all part of maintaining our cover story's plausibility. Still, having known Alejandro as basically a brother figure most of my life, it felt more than a little uncomfortable playing these flirtatious games with him. If I was being honest, of the two men Matias was much more my...personal preference, shall we say, despite our age gap.

Shoving those inappropriate thoughts firmly aside, I focused on the true mission at hand as the aircraft prepared for takeoff. Getting to London was just the first small step. The hard part would be actually waiting for our new identities to be properly established, integrating into the local underground community, and most importantly - beginning the slow work of dismantling my uncle's operations from within his own backyard.

I settled back into the plush seat, the muffled roar of the engines firing up and thrumming through my body as the enormity of the challenges ahead settled in. This was it - the opening salvo of La Roslaine Dragón's fiery resurrection from the ashes. Fernandez would fall, and from those ruins, the true Ciudad del Dragón would rise to scour the earth.