Page 8 of Volatile Obsessions

Drained in entirety, the ice clinked against the tumbler, louder still when I set it on his desk.

“This again?” I questioned, leaning back into my seat to mirror his posture.

Vic assessed me, twitching at the sight of my disposed glass, and shrugged after a beat. “It’s in my blood, King, and this right here is it. The opportunity is mine to seize.”

“So seize it then,” I deadpanned. “Why do you need me?”

He came forward, stabbing a finger on the polished, ebony wood before him. “Because this isn’t a one-man job. It’s a mass operation and I need your expertise, your diabolical mastermind.”

Now it was me who had a good chuckle, offering him nothing more than a shake of my head as I rose onto my feet and perused the contents of his office. Vic remained silent throughout, probably because he knew better than to rush me.

“Let me ask you something,” I started, leaning against the liquor cabinet, arms crossed over my chest. “What makes this different from all your other genius ideas? You seem to have a...tendency to drag me right to the forefront of your shit shows, and I’m not particularly too keen on finding myself in another. I’ve got my own circus to deal with.”

“Because the idea is already in motion and it’s full-proof,” he replied simply, snatching my emptied tumbler off the desk.

“Full-proof, huh? What makes it so?”

Nothing with Vic was ever full-proof.

“I’ll tell you, once you agree.”

“The fuck? You expect me to agree to something I have zero knowledge of?” My retort came with an angered rear of my head and harsh bite in my tone.

“Yes, because as much as it benefits me, it’ll benefit you as well,” he countered.

“How so?”

“Again, I’ll tell you, when you agree.”

The fuck you will.

“Then I guess you’re shit out of luck, Kane,” I snapped, pushing off the cabinet. “If you need me as badly as you claim, then you’ll call me with every last detail by tonight. Otherwise, I’ll be on a plane to New York tomorrow morning, and I can assure you, I won’t be coming back.”

“Respect, Rome,” Vic blurted out, just as I reached the door of his office. When I stilled and glanced over my shoulder, he went on. “That’s whats in it for you. Power, money, and well-deserved respect. A new and better life.”

None of that truly answered my questions, and yet, I found myself rooted in place, mulling over the possibilities. His promise held all the things I’d once had, luxuries I’d been robbed of by fear and jealousy. For a long time afterward, I’d been on a mission to reclaim what was mine, and in the end, all my depraved actions forced me to do was lay low. And when keeping to the shadows was no longer effective, I ran.

I ran from London to New York, and then I ran here.

Vic requesting my assistance was merely a perfectly orchestrated coincidence and all the more reason to leave New York behind.

My life depended on it.

So, as much as I didn’t want to dive in headfirst to what could possibly be another fail of epic proportions, could blindly aiding Vic with the vow of retribution really be so bad?

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