One
One
“Don Romanov, it would be delightful if we were able to become allies, through marriage between you and my daughter Heather.” A deep Italian male voice spoke behind smoking a cigar in a dim lighting room in the golden horse night club downtown Manhattan.
A tall regal handsome man was sitting across from the Italian don smoking his own cigar looking at him with a bored expression knowing what this lying sack of shit was trying to plan when it came to his spoiled ungrateful daughter who was not even worth his time seeing how he has yet to find his queen to rule by his side and take over Manhattan from the Italians.
“De Luca, I have no need for your whore of a daughter seeing how she spreads her legs for anyone who will fuck her.” A rich Russian accent spoke out calmly, smirking behind his hand that held his family crest on his middle finger along with a few more rings.
The other don glared deadly at the gentlemen before him feeling pissed for his disrespect of his sweet innocent daughter, that is his everything and he has raised by himself since his wife left him for another when she was born. “I will be careful on what you say, Romanov. I will not hesitate to shoot you right here and watch you bleed out.” He angrily barked out pulling out a gun and taking the safety off aiming it towards the man before him, who was not giving a damn in the situation.
“Go for it, I like to see you try, seeing if you do shoot me, I will come after you and when I do, I will destroy your mafia and everything that you hold dear to you.” The Russian man spoke standing up not phased in the least seeing that he was wearing a thin bullet proof vest under his suit.
The Russian don death stared his enemy in the face with his arms wide open, one eyebrow raised and smirking gloating him to take the shot knowing he does not have it in him to shoot where he stood.
The Russian don shook his head and stuffed his hands into his suit pockets, leaving the meeting room to head on home and ready himself for his trip to Russia to see about his other legal business he has in his homeland of Moscow. “Boss, kuda teper’ (Boss, where to now)?”
The Russian don sat back, leaning against the leather seats of his car looking at the window watching the city lights of Manhattan come to life at night.
“Pentkhaus (The penthouse).” His deep voice calmly spoke leaning his head back and briefly closing his eyes, and before he knew what was happening his driver was serving into on-coming traffic.
He quickly acted pulling out his own gun he switched the safety off, bracing himself for the impact of the car crashing into the tree on the side of the road, leading out of the city limits, he cursed before he passed out from the pain in his side and head feeling blood dripping down his face.
Minutes felt like hours for him when he awoke in an unfamiliar place seeing beige walls with books shelves lining the walls, along with a blackout curtain hanging over the window.
He carefully moved, holding his injured side that he now noticed was bandaged up and stitched together, narrowing his eyes he wondered who could have saved him and brought him into their home.
