“Did you get the job done?” A woman’s voice was sharp with very syllable she spoke. “His car was tipped over the edge just like you asked.” The man gloats pridefully. “Good. That’ll give me some time to get his twerp of a girlfriend out of the mafia business.” The woman taps her long acrylic finger nail over the mahogany of the desk. “Hello.” Another female enters through the door of the ambient lighted office. “It’s taken care of.” The lady twirls her finger around the spoon in her tea. “That bitch needs to learn a fucking lesson.” The light haired woman spitefully comments. Her eyes endangered by her feline attributes.
“Now that he is taken care of I can make sure my demented spouse is murdered that way I’ll be able to take over the business and you can have the ‘Devil’ all to yourself.” The woman’s face forms into a demented smirk that sends shivers down the man’s spine. “How do you want this plan to work out.” The light haired woman crosses her arms over her enlarged cleavage. “Let his skank come to the mafia dinner party. Then, you can kill her and get rid of the boyfriend that way I’ll be able to kill off the mafia king.” The woman smugly responds.
“Sounds ravishing.” A smile pulls at the corner’s of the woman’s mouth as she sits in the chair. “As ravishing as a woman with claws can be.” A contradictory contrast purrs between the woman’s teeth as she speaks. “Not claws, guns.” A wide smile presses on the others woman’s face. “Let’s make it bleed.” The woman takes a sip of tea. “Kill the blue eyed bitch and take her man from her. Then kill her.” The woman orders. “Don’t mind if I do.” The other woman maliciously grins. “How would you like the murder staged?” The man crosses his arms over his chest.
“Put her head on a silver platter and serve it to him medium well.” The other lady quietly sips on her overly-spiced cup of greens. “How pink would you like her to be?” The man raises a brow. “Make her bubblegum pop.” The woman clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
“Certainly.” The man bows his head respectfully and departs the room, shutting the door behind his absence. “How long before shit boils over?” The blonde lady intriguingly questions. “Two-hundred and twelve degrees.” A smirk crosses the woman’s lips across the table. “What will be left once you take over?” Another question escape’s into the open air.
“May god save our souls at the hands of my wrath.” A smile erupting from her face. “Your so tainted it makes me sick.” Across the way, the young woman twists her platinum locks between her fingers. “I’m truly curing this retched world.” The statement rings in the space, electrifying the thickening silence. “What will you do with your son once he’s dead?”
A sinful laugh bounces of the walls.
“I’ll bury him.”