I GENUINELY THOUGHT I had a relatively good life. I thought the money, the women, the violence, the power, was enough for me. Thought it made me untouchable.
How wrong can one Lan be?
I TOOK A TRIP TO ITALY-peace negotiations. My unit in San Francisco was getting heat from the Italians, which incidentally, we already had a treaty with.
One family in particular were relentless; the Genovese.
Covertly, I sat in one of their casinos, staking out the Genovese family. They are said to have a fearless leader, ruthless when need be, cunning and intelligent.
Every member of their Family though, were close lipped about their boss. It didn't matter how much you tortured a man, he would say nothing about this Don.
Enforcers were shocked at the unadulterated fear in their eyes when questioned about their Don.
I interrogated one of the men, chopped of his fingers, then his hand, took an eye a couple toes, and he still wouldn't talk.
Naturally, I had to meet this awe inspiring Don.
Naturally I didn't know I would happen upon the best, worst, and irreplaceable person that would come into my life.
I SAT AT THE BAR nursing my drink, imperceptibly glancing around, casing the joint. It seemed calm for a Mafioso hideout; of course it was your normal rowdy casino.
Scantily dressed women, gambling suckers, happy gambling suckers who were on a winning streak. Greasy food, expensive alcohol.
Marveling at the organization, the efficiency with which it was run, my eyes roved about, looking for a prominent member.
Finally turning my attention back to the bar, I noticed a woman staring me down.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I have exceptional senses, it's almost impossible to sneak up on me.
Biting back a curse in my native language, I wiped surprise off my face, placing amusement I didn't feel instead.
"Damn, you really snuck up on me, didn't you? How long have you been there?"
The woman smiled. "Yes well, you can't hear me come like it's phone sex, that's the point of stealth,"
I choked on my whiskey.
"And I've been here for a good fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes she sat there without my knowledge.
"I would be more alert if I were you; there are some unsavory characters around here."
"Thanks for the advice Miss..."
"Genovese," She offers with a sweet smile.
Genovese... My mind clicks, but hurriedly I un-click it. Genovese is a very prevalent surname in Italy.
"So why are you here? I've never seen you around," she sips her drink, one I didn't see placed, nor did I hear her order.
Who does this woman associate with? Ghosts?
"I'm here on business."
She nodded, accepting the answer. We talked for a while, having a most interesting conversation.
It wasn't the topic, per say. No, it was the way the conversation was conducted. I attempted to ask more questions than answer them, while she attempted to do the same.
"Where are you-" My question was interrupted by my second in command, Yuri.
"Vitya, we got the meeting,"
"You have to go?" She pouted, leaning in to not so inconspicuously show me her ample cleavage.
My eyes drifted down to what was being offered me.
"босс," Yuri insisted when my gaze didn't stray from her body.
Irritated, I rake my fingers through my dark hair.
"Yes, yes. I am coming."
The sultry Italian pouted salaciously at me, her big brown eyes captivating.
"Will I see you again?"
"Probably not," I intensify my gaze, frowning when she didn't shift.
I have very... scary eyes, for lack of a better word. They are cold and clear as ice. Yet this woman, despite her innocent gaze, stared defiantly right at me, as if she knew my reputation, and was saying: I don't give a fuck.
"I must be going now. But it was nice to meet you красота,"
With one last scrutinizing glance, I left her behind, her chocolate gaze burning dangerously into my back.
"ARE YOU THE DON, OR NOT?" I impatiently inquire of the woman in front of me. First, they send me a timid boy, now they send me a woman.
"I am who the Don sent to correspond with you."
My anger blazes, fingers reaching for the comfort of my blade. I pull it out of my jacket, and twirl between my fingers.
I'm a rather impatient man, it's one of my many flaws, alongside with a general disregard for human life.
I'm a cold blood killer-that's who I am. I don't have a tragic background, wasn't abused or kidnapped.
My mother and father love me.
There's no sweet sensitive side that just needs to be coaxed out-
I'm a fucking killer. Point blank.
That being said, this bitch is getting in my nerves, repeating the same things over and over like a fucking broken record.
"I did not fly all the way to Italy, to meet you, little girl." I smile at her, continuing factually.
"I want the Don, and if you can't present him to me, you are useless, and I will have to kill you."
She stares back at me blankly, sending a shiver down me. Not out of fear, not out of discomfort. Just with the urgent need to paint these drab walls with her blood.
"You are saying nothing малышка, why?"
"I'm waiting," she informed me softly. "You see, I'm just doing a favor, and if you kill me I am going to haunt your ass so bad. Besides, I'd never get the blood out-"
Oh God, kill me now.
"Shut up! Shut up right now, or I will cut off your pinkie, lodge it in your throat, and make you choke on it like a whore on a fat cock. Understand?!"
"I never choke. I don't have a gag reflex."
That's what she got out of this threat?
"Does it look like I give a fuck how much dick you can cram down your throat? Because if it does, I apologise for misleading you."
I clarify, grabbing my gun.
"I don't care. I want the Don. For such a fearsome man, he sure is a pussy."
The woman smirk at me smugly, as if she knew something I didn't.
I was just about to shoot her in her controversial throat when the metal door swung open revealing someone I hope to never see on this property.
"Caro, you are here!"