Episode 12

Wiven

That Victor smelled like a plate of surprises to me. Knowing he led the Italian mafia made things more exciting than ever. I've never considered anyone worth my time, but he's not a guy you can easily discard before getting deep into the game.

If he thinks I'm stupid, he's wrong. I didn't propose him to be my casual fuck buddy. Now that he knows my name, he must be pulling my history down to the last letter to know who I am.

From what my uncle told me two years ago, my father had some dirt with this mafia. Something he planned without the family's consent; everything he did was his way or the highway. If anyone interfered, they were liable to be snuffed out.

My father was the devil in person. Many men were his soldiers because they had no other choice in life. No matter how much they did things right, nothing was ever good enough for him.

I could read Victor at the cafe in about two seconds as he thought about my proposal.

His gaze didn't hide how much he wanted to know about me. At first, I thought about lying about my name, but I decided to tell him to make things even more interesting.

I took a last sip of the whiskey that was half the total amount in the bottle. Soon after, I flicked the lighter and lit a cigarette.

I didn't have much to think about. I rented an apartment to meet with this Victor; I don't trust him enough to step foot in my own house.

If there's one thing I learned from the man who raised me, it's not to trust anyone, especially those with an angelic face. I don't even trust my family.

Someone insists on pressing the doorbell, making me get up to answer, wearing only sweatpants and gray slippers.

I opened the door, and it was the landlord of the apartment I rented.

Landlord: Everything alright, sir? When will you start moving furniture into the apartment?

Wiven: I won't be bringing any. It's your job to buy them. I already paid my rent for the days I'll be staying there.

The incompetent one seems to feel a lump in his throat, afraid to say anything else.

Landlord: But the thing is, we are not responsible for the furniture.

I give him an angry look as I take my wallet out of my pants pocket and pull out several bills without counting the total. I hand them over to him; I noticed the gleam in his eyes.

Wiven: Look here, if that place is not to my liking, your head will roll on the floor. Do we understand each other?

Landlord: Yes, sir. I'm sorry to bother you.

He leaves practically wetting himself. Honestly, there are many weak people out there. They can't see me irritated or angry without getting scared.

But it's better that way; at least no one underestimates me. It would be a pain to have to move from my own home to another place. It's just that it's part of my security protocol never to let my guard down.

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