Mayhem

Chapter 11

The men kick open two wide doors and throw me inside. I groan and sit up on the ground only to come face to face with Alex. "Of course," he says knowingly, shaking his head before extending a hand to help me up. 

I ignore it and manage to stand, dusting myself off. "You really should have learnt by now that I don't follow orders from scary, gang-affiliated men with egos' the size or Mars," I grumble, walking past him. Behind a desk sat a man wearing an unbuttoned, white dress-shirt, cigarette at his lips, skin covered in tattoos and huge, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he hasn't slept in weeks. There was a gun on his desk, a few stacks of cash, two lines of cocaine and a switchblade. 

"Hello Darling," he says, his voice calm and collected laced with a thick French accent as he looks me up and down. "Hey?" It comes out as more of a question that I intended.

He glances over my shoulder to Alex. "Is this the girl?" Before he has a chance to reply, I clear my throat and step forward, raising a hand. "Sure is. And she is right in front of you so don't speak like I'm not," I smile sweetly down at him. I hear Alex sigh from behind me and he slips his arm around my waist. 

"She's feisty. I like it," he chuckles. I roll my eyes and plop down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. Alex shortly follows suit. "So, what's popping guys?" I ask, glancing between the two men. Alex stays quiet for a while and for a minute I thought they were just going to completely ignore me before the other man answers. "I am going to save your life," he states. I raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Fun times. Now who exactly are you?" I ask again. 

"Raphael Ramírez," he states slowly, kicking his feet up onto the desk. I have to admit, he was pretty attractive... Not a good time, Ivy. "Wait a minute... Ramírez? As in son of Christopher Ramírez?" My jaw drops. Surely not, right? My life can't be that much of a tragic coincidence...

"You know my father?" A sly grin makes its way onto his face. It is only then that I notice the small, framed picture of Raphael here and Dr. Chris behind him on the cabinet.

"That man is a fucking legend! Honestly, never before in my life have I seen someone perform an aortic dissection with such... Grace!" I lean further back into my chair with a sigh. Not to mention how he was an absolutely lovely man. James was lucky enough to earn an apprenticeship with him and was invited to observe and even assist many of his surgeries. They had invited me to catch up every now and then for lunch after a shift and Christopher was always so respectful and funny. 

"Do you work with him?" Raphael raises an eyebrow. I shake my head and chuckle. "Oh God, no. Me and my hand tremor could never! He works with my boyfriend though, and I see him around every now and then," I explain. He glances between Alex and I with disbelief. "Since when were you a cardiothoracic surgeon?" He cackles at Alex with a scoff. 

It takes me a good minute to actually understand what was going on but before I could retort, Alex replies. "Me? Dating her? C'mon dude, my standards aren't that low."

A glare makes its way onto my face and I cross my arms. "Bitch, you slept with every breathing female at our psych-ward of a boarding school. If anyone has low standards, it's you," I snare back at him. "Well at least I could get some," he laughs. Okay, I have really had enough of his bullshit for one day.

"Yeah? Well at least I never left you to die at the hands of your ex-bestie while you were prancing around on a tropical island somewhere because of a mess that you made," I spit back. 

"Shut up, you fucking whore." I don't even know what exactly happened, but one minute I was in my chair, the next I had stolen the gun off Raphael's desk and had it pointed at Alex's head. "Go on, call me a whore again. I fucking dare you." I laugh in his face.