[Revised]

Max and Roman made their way down the path leading to the Rubair family villa, in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Ss soon as they reached the large iron-wrought gates, they were stopped by four guards, who encircled them with AK-47s firmly held against their chests.

"Name and purpose," One of them gruffly ordered, stomping up to Max with his gun pointed towards him.

"Juan, hermano. Don't tell me you can't recognise me. It's only been like what, a week?" Max grinned, turning towards the guard known as Juan and walking towards him with his arms outstretched. The man's demeanour immediately changed following the recognition; he swung his rifle over a shoulder then wrapped Max in a stifling hug.

"Of course not, man. Forgetting you is like is like trying to breathe underwater—it doesn't happen," Juan chuckled, reaching up to scratch his bearded jaw, "So, what are you doing here? And don't tell me that you drove all this way to come see me, 'cause I know that would be a lie."

"Nah, don't flatter yourself. I came to see el padre." Max said ominously, his voice lowering.

"Ooh, the boss. What did you do to upset him?"

"Nothing. Well, I can't exactly say nothing, because I fear that what I'm going to tell him will definitely ruin his morning,"

"Please, don't tell me you killed another son of one of our enemies, man. You know what happened the last time you did," Juan mimicked fireworks, bullets being shot, and explosions.

"No, not this time," Max chuckled, shaking his head.

"So how can you explain that big-ass blood stain covering half your body and your bad hair day? I hate to say this, man, but you look like shit. No wonder I didn't recognise you earlier," Juan commented, pointedly looking at Max's upper-half.

"O.K, Captain Obvious. I ran in with a bunch of kids while I waited for my ride to pick me up. A few casualties, no big deal."

"Kids?" Juan asked, not satisfied with Max's summary of the events.

"Jaguars...more like demented cubs, if you ask me. I think they were trying to mug me or something, but I definitely did not let that happen, as you can see."

Juan shook his head in mock disdain, pulling out a clipboard from the inside of his jacket. He then pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on, scanning the front page with it.

"I'm going to have to ask you to show me your I.D, Max. You know how your father is uptight about this kind of stuff. I bet he's watching us right now," Juan flicked his head to the right, and Max followed the direction with his gaze, his eyes landing on a security camera hidden almost inconspicuously amongst the brush. He nodded silently, turning to look back at his cousin that was now talking animatedly with the other guards. "All good, bro," Juan said, signing off the final papers before handing back Max's ID card, "have a good night, and ask Roman to stop flirting with my men will you?" He grinned, then disappeared into the security cabin beside the gates.

"I will." Max smiled back, walking up to his cousin and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Excuse me, gentlemen, for interrupting your circle jerk, but Roman and I have important business to attend to."

"You're welcome to join anytime, Maximilian."

"Yeah, there always room for one more."

"You know what they say, the more the merrier, amigo."

"Oh God, that is definitely not acceptable. I'd rather become a monk than get involved in that shit." Max cringed, stepping away from the iron doors that were now slowly swinging open, "Take care, guys."

After a few waves, Max dragged Roman behind him, hurrying him over before he could once again engage in conversation. As the gates closed behind the two and the other men dissipated, Roman swivelled to Max, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"What was that for, asshole? Do you always have to make me look like an idiot in front of other people?" He attempted to shove Max to one side, but Max deflected him, wrapping his arm around his neck in a headlock and ruffling his hair.

"Not always, cousin, but most of the time," he grinned, releasing him, "So what were you three nerds talking about anyway?"

Roman swore under his breath, reaching up to frantically rake his hands through his hair, "Elmer's wife gave birth last night. He was complaining about how he wasn't granted the day off to stay with his family and—"

"If you ask me, he just has to take it like a man. If he wants to be so picky about his job, he can go look for one elsewhere, there is no place here for wimps." Max interrupted, his eyes trained on the golden glimmer of the mansion's lights in the distance.

"Why do you always have to be so heartless, Max? The guy just became a father for Christ's sake! Can't you cut him some slack?" Roman snapped, sticking his hands in his pockets and quickening his pace.

"Oh please, Roman. Life isn't all about getting what you want. If it was, this world would be more fucked up than it already is, remember that."

"God, do you ever listen to yourself?" Roman spun around, stopping in his tracks, "You sound exactly like your father: patronising and full of shit! Who do you think you are, Buddha? I'm not a little kid anymore, I don't need your stupid quotes thank you very much," Roman turned again, reverting to his previous pace. He reached the marble steps to the front door and climbed them two at a time, immediately ringing the doorbell when he reached the landing.

Max jogged up to him and placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder, forcing Roman to face him. "Don't you ever disrespect me like that again."


Footsteps resounded from the other side of the door, followed by muffled voices.

"It was those stupid quotes that got you to where you are today. Know your fucking place, boy." Max snarled, reaching up and authoritatively slapping the back of Roman's head.

Click. Click. Click.

The door swung inwardly, revealing a snooty-looking butler. He stood with his back ruler-straight, and his aquiline nose stuck high up in the air. His hand was placed stiffly by his side, while the other remained on the door knob as if debating whether to allow the two miscreants into the dwelling or not. He drank in Max's rugged appearance with his judgemental gaze, his beady eyes narrowing into slits.

After a snort, he turned towards Roman and respectfully inclined his head, his heavy Spanish accent enveloping his next words, "Buenos días, señor  Rubair. Please, enter." Roman silently returned the gesture, throwing his cousin the dirtiest look he could muster before he trudged through the doorway.

Max could've sworn that a little raincloud floated behind him, a lightning bolt flashing in a warning.

He was about to follow his cousin, but the butler held up a gloved hand, his previously blank expression twisting into one of rage. His palm made contact with Max's chest, and they both looked down at it, surprised. The butler immediately retrieved his hand and wiped it discreetly on his dress coat, with Max watching the gesture with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"No pranks, oíste? I may look meek, pero no se metan conmigo." He raised his index finger and brought it up to Max's face, keeping eye contact the entire time. For a moment, a flicker of confusion crossed through Max's gaze, but then he smirked when he remembered exactly what the butler meant.

It was a harmless prank, really. Two days ago, Max and his cousin had sneaked into the domestic's quarters, and in every bathroom they removed the shower-heads, pouring Kool-Aid inside the pipe before screwing them back on. Needless to say, none of the servants was amused.

He burst into laughter and swung his good arm over the man's shoulder, dragging him into the mansion and kicking the door behind him. "Can't you guys take a joke, Herman?"

"Not if it means that we have to spend the night mopping the bathrooms!" Herman sputtered, shaking Max's arm off his shoulders and attempting to recompose himself.

"O.K, O.K, it won't happen again, I promise," Max grinned, placing a hand over his heart. The butler gave him one last glare before he swivelled on his heel and marched away.

Max stifled a yawn. It wasn't the first time he had pulled an all-nighter, but for some reason, he felt more exhausted than usual. He was battered both emotionally and physically. A sharp pain in his shoulder had him pulling off his top and making his way towards the infirmary: he had to get patched up before he went to see his father.

"I hope Jasmine is there," he muttered to himself, perverted thoughts clouding his wider judgement. A smirk appeared on his face as he turned a corner to walk through another hallway, anticipation sizzling the blood in his veins. When he reached the infirmary room, he stopped in front of the glass door, passing a hand through his hair to appear more dishevelled and adjusting his facial features into a grimace.

He was about to knock on the door when it flew open, and a woman with a clipboard in her hand slammed against his chest.

She made the sound of a strangled cat and muttered her sincere apologies. After looking up, she blushed.

"Oh, hello, Max," the redness of her cheeks deepened when she noticed his toplessness, "How may I...oh dear!" she exclaimed when she saw Max's bloodied shoulder, "How did this happen?"

Max shrugged with his good shoulder, throwing the nurse one of his signature half-smiles, "Don't worry about that, doll. Do you think you could fix this in less than fifteen minutes? I have to attend a meeting with my father. "

Jasmine nodded enthusiastically, adjusting her glasses, "Just take a seat for me inside. I'll have you ready in no time."

He trudged into the room and, hopped onto a hospital bed.

"Remove the rag, please," she ordered, her white doctor's coat floating behind her as she walked to one of the cabinets. She rummaged through it and pulled out a bottle of antibiotic ointment with a washcloth. Jasmine placed it on the tray beside her, but after a few moments, she sighed and straightened, "I ran out of bandages, so I have to go to the storage room to get more. Can you wait here?"

At Max's nod, she ducked her head and walked out, her blond ponytail swinging behind her. Alone, Max tossed his bloodied clothes into the nearby bin, revelling in the effect that he had on her. Once again, he had worked his charm, even in his damaged state.

"O.K., I'm back," she announced.

"What took you so long?" He asked, his eyes following her swaying hips.

"Oh, I decided to bring you a clean shirt, since..."

"Wait, does that mean that you went through my underwear drawer?" He interrupted. Raising an eyebrow, he clicked his tongue, "Miss Jasmine, I didn't know you were such a naughty girl. You deserve a spanking."

The nurse gasped and blushed again, dropping what she was holding onto the tray, "I...I..." she stammered, not knowing how to respond.

Adorable.

She shakily carried the entirety to the bed, placing it besides Max. She lifted her glasses to inspect the wound, but Max reached up and took them off, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, "Why do you wear these? You look better without them."

Jasmine bit her lower lip, her brows knitting together as she forced herself to look at his wound.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?" Max teased when she didn't respond, placing both of his hands on her hips, "Is it fatal?"

"No, silly!" She giggled, gently slapping his cheek, "But this looks like a stab wound. Did you get into another fight?"

"Maybe," Max growled, bringing her hips closer to him so he could suck on her neck. "Why, do hot sweaty guys turn you on?"

Jasmine twittered gleefully, but she pushed him away and reached down to dab the washcloth with the disinfectant, "It depends on the situation," she smiled seductively, cleaning Max's wound. He hissed as she did, gripping her waist.

"Goddamn that hurts," he complained, but that didn't stop him from running his hand up Jasmine's back, "Could you give me an example? I think I have a little amnesia from the fight..."

She rolled her eyes, grinning as she began to wrap his shoulder in bandages, "Let me have a think about it... does Saturday ring a bell?"

He growled again, lust clouding his vision, "Oh baby, you sure know how to make a man feel good about himself," He lifted her onto his lap, ignoring the pain as intent overpowered him. He meshed his lips against hers, kissing her roughly as he raised his hand to untie her hair. It tumbled over her shoulders in a golden cascade, and she cupped his face with both hands as she returned the kiss.

The meeting.

After fondling for another couple of minutes, Max reluctantly detached her from him. He smirked when he saw how flushed she was, her pink lips swollen from their kiss and her hair a mess around her face. "Sorry, doll, but I have to go now."

"Oh, right," Jasmine muttered disappointedly, climbing off of him and straightening her bra. She finished wrapping the bandages around him in silence, then fastened them with a clip. "I'll see you later?"

Max stood up, twisting his torso to relieve the stiffness in his back, "Yeah, we'll see," he said, reverting to his previously cold demeanour. He walked up to the table where she'd abandoned his shirt, then slipped it on, with Jasmine's help. When he was finished, he leant in and kissed her forehead.

Max then walked out of the infirmary, without saying another word.

-:-

"You're late," the infamous Fernando Rubair stated, without looking up from the paperwork on his desk. He was in his early sixties, his jet-black hair streaked with grey and combed back, with a shadow of a beard along his jawline. Gold-rimmed reading glasses were perched on the end of his roman nose, and he wore an expensive suit and tie, a Rolex adorning his wrist. An aura of power surrounded him, absorbing all the oxygen in his office.

"My apologies, father, but I..." Rubair looked up from the page he was holding, his green eyes boring into his. If looks could kill, then Max would already be a pile of ashes on the marble floor.

"Was fooling around with that harlot of a nurse. Don't deny it, I know it happened," Rubair interjected dismissively, looking back down at the documents. He scribbled something down, the delicately placed his pen down on the table. "Sit," he commanded, beginning to organise his papers.

Max hated being treated like one of his father's underlings, but he took a seat on one of the couches.

Rubair stood up, pushing the stack into three different folders and walking towards one of the dozens of filing cabinets on the side of the immense room. He passed a finger over the labels, and when he found the right one, he pulled the drawer open, depositing the folders into their appropriate slots. He slid it shut and returned to his spot behind the desk, placing both his forearms on it and intertwining his fingers together.

The two proceeded to stare at each other in silence, an unspoken challenge between them. Who would be the first one to crack?

"You've been here for," Rubair checked his watch, "ten minutes, and I still haven't heard anything besides that pathetic apology of yours. When will you do what you came here for?"

Max took a deep breath, passing a hand through his hair.

"She didn't do it," he shrugged, forcing himself to make eye-contact with him.When his father didn't respond, Max swallowed the lump in his throat which was threatening to suffocate him.

He took his father's silence as his cue to continue speaking.

"It's impossible that a seventeen-year-old could steal such an important prototype," Max said, more to himself than to his father. He couldn't rule out the possibility that she, in fact, had committed the crime, except that he couldn't think of any leads that would prove her guilty.

"You've said the same thing twice, just in two different ways. Stop beating around the bush and get to the point, Maximilian, I have another meeting in half an hour."

I can bullshit for half an hour.

"Just think about it, father. How could a seventeen-year-old girl, living on her decrepit grandfather's minimum wage, be able to steal a drug worth millions of dollars?" Max asked, leaning forwards. If she had truly been guilty, she would've confessed with a gun to her head.  "Isn't the notion simply ridiculous? There are dozens of people who are skilled enough to do the deed, any of your own men could've done it!"

"That's preposterous! Are you defending some low-class mongrel over my men? The same men with which I have worked for over twenty-five years, way before you and your sister were even born? I've followed them closely over time, they are the most loyal group of men I have every had the privilege to share my life with. Do you really think that they could've been responsible for such a heinous crime?"

Do you ever think that in reality they hate your guts and they want you dead?

Max wanted to stand up and throw his chair at his father for being so goddamn stubborn. Was he so blind as to not see that his men were everything but loyal and honesty? Whenever they held meetings with his father, they would put on their mask of hypocrisy, those two-faced bastards. The moment they left the room, however, that's when the began to plot against him, trying to put together ingenious plans to rid themselves of their tyrannous boss.

Max, the loyal son that he was, had many a time reported this to his father, but for some reason, he was the one that was always in the wrong. He had always been that stupid little boy that did nothing besides shaming the family, always the loser.

But now, that was going to change.

"She is not the person your informants made her out to be, I've spoken to her. She is neither psychologically unbalanced nor a danger to you or this company!" Max seethed.

This wasn't about Zara. It was about Max proving that his father's empire had been constructed on a foundation of lies, ones that could collapse any moment and bring down the entire company with him.

"You talked to her?" The volume of Rubair's voice increased as well, "There was to be no talking involved, Maximilian. You were to end their life. Simple.You were given specific orders. Why didn't you—"

"What orders?" Max interrupted, the vein on his neck protruding with rage, "They sent me in with the bare bones of what I needed to know about her—you know how many Zara's there are in this city? I might as well have gone in blindfolded because that is exactly what happened."

"I gave them explicit orders to inform you on every single detail about that peasant's life, and I do not doubt for a single moment that they have not fulfilled their duty. It's not their fault that you still live with your head amongst the clouds, thinking about the next girl you're going to disgrace our family with!"

Max's mouth gaped at his father's words. How dare he accuse him of such a thing? Max was always the first one to put himself in the line of fire for his father, ruining his own reputation as to not destroy Rubair's image. He had never once asked for anything in return. But now, Max realised that his father was no different than all his men. He was a low-life bastard just like them.

Worst of all was the fact that Roman was right, Max was becoming like him.

Max stormed up to the desk, slamming his fists down on the wooden surface, "You have no right to talk about her that way, you hear me? Where is all this fucking evidence anyway? Did your minions make it up, along with all the other bullshit they've been spoon-feeding you with?"

Rubair stood up abruptly, his chair swivelling away from him. He stomped up to one of the cabinets and pulled out a thick beige file, Zara's initials scribbled on the front. He flung it on his desk, black and white photos flying out. "You want evidence? Here it is, all the evidence you want, my son. Do you want to believe her? It's fine with me, but know that she is a lying snake, just like all the other criminals crawling around this godforsaken place," He venomously spat, standing a few metres away from his son, his arms shaking by his sides.

Max's eyes darted back and forth as he scanned all the documents, his heart beating more frantically with every passing second.

A picture of Zara, breaking into the family vault.

A picture of Zara, throwing the bag of pills into a backpack.

Images of her fingerprints, all over the door of the vault.

Finally, the picture that caused a physical blow to his heart: Zara, looking directly at the security camera.

It can't be, it's impossible.

The world started to spin around him, and once again, he slammed his fists on the table, growling like an enraged animal.

"These are all lies, father. Every single one of these images is a fake. They set you up, can't you see? Can't you see that they are just playing with your mind?" Max said in a voice like thunder, digging a finger into the side of his head.

His father just stared at him, pity encircling his green eyes. He took a tentative step forward, extending his arm out to his son, "Max," he began, attempting to make his voice sound soothing, "I don't understand what your connection with this girl is, but what I do know is that she isn't what she said she was. I'm sorry." He was about to bring his hand on his son's shoulder, but Max pushed it away.

"No!" Max roared, his words pulsing with hatred, "I'll prove you wrong, father, I'll prove all of you wrong, if that's the last thing I do." He stalked towards the desk, using his arm to swipe all of the papers together into a single pile. He carelessly shoved them into the folder, his actions unfazed by the look of judgement his father cast upon him.

Max began to make his way towards the exit, a single phrase repeating itself in his mind.

I'll prove you wrong, I'll prove you wrong, I'll prove you wrong.

"Max..."

His father's voice slowly faded away until it was just another background noise.

I'll prove you all wrong. 

-:-