Things had been going smoothly since most of the company headquarters and all–had gone through rigorous cleaning and refurbishing, literally and figuratively.
The board members were loyal, incompetent and basically trashy employees were either reshaped and ready to go or replaced.
Any law breakers, most of which to his attention not only consisted of vampires, but also fae, witches and incubi, were no longer a threat to the company’s standing and integrity.
And ever since Ms. Verushka and several others had accepted his invitation, the human population of the company was now as productive as it should be, especially the finance department.
Since Rita, he could remember her name now, started off nicely and gotten on well enough the first week. He had washed his hands of her. No more unseen favours, she would get by on her own now and get out of any trouble all on her own. According to him, his debt to her had been paid.
Six to eight weeks of constant work on both buisness and pack affairs. His mother’s cousins had been a damned chore to deal with, and if it were not for him having control over their estates then, they would have been a lot more.
Everything was in place except he still needed a personal assistant. There were still little things left to be done but recently those extremely tiny little details were getting on his nerves.
Between all the contracts, meetings, flights, company and city tours, police, security detail and pack matters, Samuel had not had time to himself. Which reminded him that he also needed to find a suitable CEO to manage the company in his absence.
He needed to vent his frustration, and this time the gym would not help.
How long had he gone? Since the Arsen incident. Give or take. He was not sure himself. Now he thought about it, that streak needed ending. At least, in a place where one fuck did not mean anything. Let alone him having any sort of future sentimental attachment.
He showered and had a change of clothes. He was going to another hotel. He had learned the lesson the hard way not to bring casual fucks into his personal space.
He dressed casually enough and left his suite. At the entrance, his car had already been brought out front. A driver dressed in the hotel’s colours, red and gold, on sighting him, opened the passenger door for him.
The driver was human, black haired with light brown eyes with generous eyebrows and a lengthy beard too much. Traces of the savory spiced lamb he had eaten no more than half an hour ago lingered on him.
Samuel got in and closed the door while the driver rounded to enter the driver’s seat. “Where to Sir?” he asked after he slammed his door shut.
On the elevator down Samuel had thought of all the prospective places he could go to…destress. A number of places popped up but most of them got ticked off his list because they did not meet most or all of his requirements. Out of the throng, only two establishments stood out from the rest. “Deseru.” He told the driver.
The driver nodded and replied a curt, yes sir before taking the car out of the hotel compound.
The lights and the buzz of the city flowed past as they drove. Even for the car’s ability to block out most noise from the outside, Samuel was still able to hear things going on outside of it. He heard some snips of conversation, glass and heels clicking on the floor, a bar brawl and most definitely, the engines of the cars his bodyguards drove in.
He had told them he did not need their protection. There was nothing their set of skills, strength or bullets could do that a fraction of his strength and claws could not accomplish. Anyway, anyone that tried attacking him in the open, or otherwise, was a fool. Attacking an Alpha was akin to asking for all of hell on your head. Attacking one on their own territory was just plainly signing your own death warrant. With an assurance of a painfully slow death.
Nothing in Alvas escaped Samuel’s attention. He knew everything about everyone. Especially about the eight assassins, seven now since he finished one off–excluding Alexius–that were hanging around the city. Four of them had a mark on him and the rest were on different targets.
The assassin Samuel finished off did not have a mark on him. Still, he was not about to let the piece of scum, or his employer for that matter, kill a heavily pregnant woman. There were things that just crossed the line that were not supposed to.
Max should have been done with the assassin’s employer by now. His phone rang, Max’s phone number flashing on the screen. Speak of the devil. Samuel answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear. “I’m sure you made it clean?”
“I made it look clean.” Max responded, a bit too jovially. Max was a good assassin. Samuel would wager one of the best in the business. He had known him for sixteen years, since Max was twelve and already an accomplished assassin. They had become friends, brothers, when they got to know each other. Of course, that had not been the case when they first meet each other. Then, Max had been trying to dispatch his aunt. Not that it would mattered, the woman died a week later of a coughing fit.
He had tracked down Max’s employer and owner, made his end slow and painful, and took Max for a friend. After the boy had gone into hiding for nearly a year and a half. When Samuel found him stealing from a grocery store three cities away from Astoke territory. Max must have thought he would kill him. Terror and fear had clung to him like a second skin. But his eyes had a fire and fight on his eyes. Samuel liked it.
He took care of Max until he took off again at seventeen. By then Samuel and Xavier had realized that Max was not uncomfortable with assassination or murder. The boy had a very dark sense of humor, and a head laden with trauma and the techniques to make good on his brand of work.
“That doesn’t answer my question Max.” Samuel slightly growled into his phone.
“Don’t worry. The sorry piece of horse shit was so scared he finished himself off while attempting to run from me. It’s going to look like a simple apartment accident. A case of a slippery bad fall.” Samuel could already see the mryth on Max’s face.
“You should have seen the look in his eyes when he found me waiting in the bathroom.” Max chuckled.
“You must have gotten a nice eye full.”
“Pudgy and swollen with blood money ain’t my type.”
“Whatever you say. Where are you?” Samuel asked.
“Look out your right window.”
Samuel turned his eyes to the scene outside the right window of the car. Samuel could not decide if he wanted to laugh, scold him or pretend he simply did not acknowledge what he was seeing.
“Biker on the glittery purple motorcycle with the unicorn, aren’t you?”
“Yes! I knew you wouldn’t miss it.”
Samuel pinched his brows. “With a helmet to match? What is your problem, Max?”
“Nothing. Just feeling eccentric. Where are you headed?”
“You going to follow me in that glittery thing you call a motorcycle?”
“Don’t listen to him Bruno. You’re beautiful.”
“You named the motorcycle, Bruno? That motorcycle?”
“It’s a nice name.”
“A nice name that’s been murdered by your choice of christening..”
“More times than you would know. You know–”
“Please spare me the backstory.” Samuel groaned.
“Okie dokie. So where are you headed?”
“Deseru. You’re not following me.”
“Deseru? I was heading there myself. I love that place. Got some of the best dick in this city.”
“Ok, that’s it I’m turning back.”
“Oh come on, don’t be a spoil sport. It’s got more than just dick.”
“If you’ve been there that means it’s an even dirtier place now than it was before you walked in.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. See you there big guy.” Max said before racing down the road on his motorcycle. Samuel pinched his eyebrows and sighed. As Max drove away, something trailed after him. Purple glitter.
.
.
Author's note: Who is liking Max?(✷‿✷)