14 Days With The Mafia Lord

ONE WEEK EARLIER

GIOVANNI

If there was one thing I hated in this world, it was disobedience.

As far as I was concerned, my rules were the fucking law of nature. Something generally accepted and followed by everything living and non-living.

But somehow, this filthy man, currently strapped to the chair, bloody and bruised, missed the memo.

“Per favore, fermati. Abbi pietà.’ He said, telling me to stop and have mercy in broken Italian. The plea was uttered with three broken teeth and a lip gushing blood onto his sky-blue shirt.

“Mercy?” I spat unto the cold concrete floor. “You have no right to ask for mercy.”

“Allora vaffanculo, maiale inutile. (Then fuck you, useless pig).” He tried to spit at my face, but the bloody drops weren't strong enough to reach me, and they dropped harmlessly on the floor.

Chuckling, I raised my hand with the knuckle ring and dealt him two consecutive blows to the face.

He cried out in pain and buckled in the chair. I grabbed him by the chin and brought his face closer to mine. Or as close as the restraints would allow.

“Tell me, stronzo (scumbag), did you not know the penalty for late payment?”

One of his eyes was swollen shut, and the other looked at me with a vacant expression.

“Yes,” the word was accompanied by a spurt of blood.

“Then why do you not cooperate? Were you wondering if it was a lie? A joke?”

“La prego, signor Enrico, I have a family. Two girls and an unborn son. They need me, so please have mercy.”

“I should have mercy?” I mocked with fake tears, then I laughed at how ridiculous I sounded trying to be him.

Shoving his limp head backward, I straightened and began working on the sleeves of my white dress shirt.

“Let me tell you how I see it,” I drew the sleeve up to my elbow as I spoke. “You, Mr. Riccardo, needed money for your business. I graciously lent you the sum with the agreement on a payment schedule. Not only do you not repay me my money, but you also go to the Famiglia Dessano and give them information on my business. Did you really think I would not discover you've been tattling to my rival? I own these fucking streets! As if that's not enough you ambush my enforcers, killing one of them. Did you think there would be no fucking consequences?!”

The man started to cry, his tears mixing with the metallic stench of blood and sweat.

“Save your tears. I'm not finished yet,” I started on the other sleeve. “Your punishment is tripled for that alone. Also, your two girls and son are not as useful to me as your business because I know you have neither. You're not married, and you haven't been able to get your dick up not to talk of fathering a child. So, you see how it looks, right? Not only have you swindled me, you've also lied to me and murdered one of my own. And those are unforgivable sins.”

“Per favore, Signor Enrico. I'm sorry, I'll get your money, I swear. Just don't kill me. Please, I'm begging.” He continued to sob.

Unable to take the crying anymore, I raised my leg and let it land heavily on his foot. The sound of broken bones and agony rented the air.

“Per favore, per favore, per favore.” (Please, please, please.)

The more he begged, the more angry I became. Only cowards would do what he did and still beg for their lives. Especially daring to lie to me.

Deciding to end his misery once and for all, I discarded the knuckle ring and unclasped my Walther P99 from its holster.

“Usually, I would let you stay and suffer some more, but I'm bored now,” I aimed the gun at his forehead. “Say your last prayer, cane sporco. (Filthy dog).”

Before I could squeeze the trigger, the door burst open, letting in the dim light of dusk and three men.

I recognized the three men immediately, but the one in the middle bore the weight of my anger.

“The fuck is this, Stone? What did I say? No goddamn interruptions!”

My second in command, Stone, approached me. Under the grimy fluorescent of the abandoned storage room I’d commandeered for tonight, the lone scar across his tan face stood out.

“I'm sorry, sir. I know what you said . . .”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” I growled.

“I have news. Important news.”

I didn't know why but something in his tone told me this was serious. In the ten years since he'd been my right-hand man, he’d never once gone against a direct command.

I lowered my gun and stepped away from Mr. Riccardo, who’d reduced his wailing to a miserable whimper.

“Speak,” I ordered.

Instead of doing as I asked, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved a piece of paper.

He handed it to me, and I quickly realized it was a picture. My jaw dropped as I stared at it.

“Explain this,” I managed to get out through my shock.

“The woman in the picture owes our loan company upwards of 35,000 dollars.”

My confusion compounded. “That is not possible. Are you sure this isn’t a mixup?”

“There is no mixup, boss. We had her checked out twice, just to be sure. Her name is Elaine Martinez. Black hair, blue eyes, daughter of Blanco Martinez . . .”

“Wait, Blanco Martinez? As in . . .”

Stone nodded. “Of the Martinez Family.”

I hadn't noticed the picture falling from my grasp until Stone bent to pick it up.

“Are you alright, boss? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

I waved his concern off. “I'm fine.”

“Should we bring her in for questioning? Her payment date has been up for quite a while.”

I knew when he said questioning, he really meant torture.

I closed my eyes to think for a second, and there she was. Raven hair bunched in my hand, sultry voice begging for more as I drove deeper and deeper into her welcoming pussy.

I would've been lost in the memory had Stone's snapping fingers not brought me back.

“Sir,” he said when I finally opened my eyes. “Are you okay? What do you want us to do?”

Realizing I was acting out of character, I cleared my throat and flexed my fingers around the gun.

Turning to Stone, I hardened my voice and my gaze. “Bring her in as soon as possible. The bitch has questions to answer.”

Stone nodded, bowing before leaving with the two other men.

It was just me and my prisoner.

“Now, where were we?” I asked, tapping the muzzle of the gun on my chin. “Ah, I remember. I was just about to take out the trash.”

Riccardo opened his mouth to protest, but the bullet was faster and shut him up permanently with a resounding bang.

I smirked, seeing as the blood and brain matter decorate the walls.