New York, year 2013; not much has changed in the City that never sleeps, or, at least, as far as the common eye can tell. Because behind closed doors and street corners, evil is afoot. The streets of modern day New York can be tough on people with no allegiance. When people work for long hours with little pay; that’s when most people get connect to a family.
Over time, the mafia have manage to lose evenly divide the territory equally.
In these streets, it's all about survival of the fittest. Do you think you have what it takes to survive?
You don't have permission to post in this thread.
Grigori glanced up from his meal but his father continued to swallow his steak in chucks. While like his father the Russian enjoyed food he unfortunately could not become fully engrossed in the perfect seasoning of his beef due to the fact that the black beauty was sitting across from him with what seemed to be an authentic doe eyed expression. Was the realization of her marriage just now hitting her? How adorable. Lifting his cloth napkin to his mouth the young prince dapped at the corners of his mouth. “Well I for one am truly excited this marriage is happening. What better excuse for us to drink than a wedding? Even better I can provide the dress. My mother is a most excellent seamstress and I am sure that we can find something most fitting for the bride to be.”
The Italian Boss seemed to be pleased by the Russian’s words but his daughter snorted into her glass of chosen wine. Grigori lifted a brow at the most un-lady like noise but his smile never fell as he silently compared Aria to the Spanish princess, two bold tigresses at a table no a livelihood dominated by men. An excellent year this was going to be.
Aria lowered her glass on the table, she was new to all of this and now she was secretly thanking her mother for teaching her a poker face, an unnecessary skill now that she knew how to card count, everyone at the table was either silent and cold or wearing their emotions on their sleeves without a care. Then came the arrival of the Spanish underboss, Esmeralda Cardona, a public figure as a spokesperson for her family casino chain as well as a skilled fighter when it came to hand to hand combat, at least with the frequent visits to her gym would prove. Despite the facts that plastered red caution signs Aria was glad to have another woman at the table and raised her glass to the last addition to the table. “Well after that I suppose it is my turn.”
“Do you have an objection Маленький тигр ?”
“Of this arrangement? I have plenty of objections but they will fall on deaf ears. So I will switch to a matter that will hold everyone’s attention.” Aria glanced over her shoulder and one of her bodyguard nodded before standing from his seat and approaching with a thick folder clutched in his meaty hands. Taking it from him the young woman tossed it at the center of the round table and it landed with a thud. “In that envelope are the invoices that keep record of the Obshina Bratva.”
“That is a small stack, we have more money than that.” The Boss grunted, taking a break from shoveling his food.
Aria smiled, ever glad now that her mother taught her how to perfect a poker face, “Oh no, please forgive me, I meant to say that these are the invoices of all the money you are sneaking from all of us.”
Grigori went silent while his father coughed up a half-chewed chuck of his steak, “I will not stand for these accusations!” The plump man sputtered, his accent growing thicker.
“Then stay seated, this will be quick. While your domain stays mostly within the prostitute ring you get access not only to the Cardona Casino’s but my family keeps your girls out of jail and my husband keeps your boys armed. I also have also given you supply which I allow you to keep all profits while I demand only a shipping and handling charge.”
Grigori placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, “Маленький тигр we are well aware of the papers we signed but I have few,” He paused, “Notes I think the word is. The Irishman is not your husband yet and this word that you keep using. Allow?”
“Do not joke Grigori, we are all well aware that once our father’s plan something it will be done.” She paused and turned to Adam, dismissing the blonde that sat across from her, “I don’t mean to talk about you like you aren’t here I will just be a few minutes more.” Again her eyes narrowed at Grigori’s direction. “I say allow because my family has the power and the recourses to wipe you off the face of this planet. Of course once I add in how much you stole from the Spanish and the Irish I am sure they would have been more than happy to just kill you.”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“Before being adopted I had so much faith in this city’s police but as of late I find it hard to believe that they are able to intercept all but one of the cargo ships that carry the new shipment of firearms to be delivered to both Esmeralda and Adam. I won’t even mention how you got a down payment on your new club so quickly in Spanish territory. Return our money or the Russians will no longer have a place in this city.” She stood from her seat, “Не бросить вызов мне маленького мальчика ”
As she left her best friend fell into step behind her, “Look who became a badass in a day?”
“I rehearsed that speech for hours and tracking a paper trail is kindergarten stuff.”
“Normal kids ate paste not built computers”
A slight nod of acknowledgment towards the dark beauty, he pulled the chair out from the table. Adam unbuttoned his jacket open, he took the empty seat beside his soon to be wife. His fingers cradle the wine glass already filled, thanks to the waitress, and took a small sip. Silence, was consume between the two underbosses. Adam would have enough time to get to know his fiancee once they were alone. For now, Adam was here to show honor and respect. A small chuckle rose from his throat at the light comment of the Spanish Don and daughter.
The Italian Don words echoed throughout his mind. More responsibly was waiting for him at the end of this marriage which he was definitely ready for. "As the son of my great father, I promise you that I will treat your daughter wit respect as the mother of my children and the beautiful wife she will be." Adam spoke, he place his hand gentle on her shoulder. His father laughed as he patted his son the back with great pride in him. The Italian Don bow his head in respect and offered the young man a smile.
A slow, sensual smile steals across his features when she heard her sweet melodic voice once again. Adam slipped a forkful of rice into his mouth and slowly took his time chewing his food before he spoke again. " My dear, I believe as we now live in the 21st century the world is filled your great beauty. What matters to me is who and where you are from," Adam reached out for another sip of wine. " I believe the darker the wine, the better. Don't you agree Mister Grigori?"
Adam did not bother to turn when the Spanish heir pronounce her entrance. However, he was indeed intrigued why her presence was among them? Adam greeted the young woman with a light kiss on the back of her hand after taking his place by his bride to be. Adam remained quiet as the Spanish woman continued to talk openly. The rumors were true about the woman having a sharp tongue. However, nice her little speech was he could tell his father was getting offended by being called out.
" Our ties with the Cosa Nostra will not affect either families but our own." Adam spoke loudly, warning his father to take a step back before a feud broke out. " Thank you, I do hope to receive a very hefty gift from your family."
The Spanish beauty smiled at him, as she bought her glass to her red lips. "Of course."
" I do not work here. But, I do work out around here.. " Esmeralda began to answer him before he excuse himself to answer his call. Esmeralda took this opportunity order a french vanilla iced coffee while she gave him privacy.
Esmeralda was a bit upset of the short meeting with one another. Understandable, she was however grateful to had a chance to know his name. It took her by surprise when he asked her to meet back here at midnight. She was more than happy to come back to be with him again. Her heart began to flutter as she felt his warmth across her skin. She glance to find her purple numbers glaring back at her. Esmeralda waved good bye at the handsome stranger. She left a $50 bill a the table and slipped out of the shop, without her coffee. Esmeralda reach into her pocket to fish out her car keys, only to be interrupt by the melody of her phone.
"*Si?" Esmeralda greeted the blocked number once she place her phone to her ear and unlock the door to her car.
"Esmeralda, I need you to attend the meeting in my place. No excuses. Your mother and I, need to leave to Dominican Republic for an emergency until we can resolve this. I will let you know when we arrive. Remember, your mother and I love very much."
Esmeralda's heart sunk as she listened to her father at the other end of the phone call. Esmeralda rarely attend the meetings simply the woman always shared her options but mostly, the meetings were always a bore. It was her birth right to replace her father, even if it was a few days. This was something she knew she couldn't refuse or the punishment would be far worse then last time.
"Yes, daddy. Don't worry, your princess got it all under control. Have a good flight."
Her father grunted a thank you before hanging up on his daughter. Esmeralda placed her forehead against the wheel and prayed a silence prayer to give her strength and protection.
Click. Click Click
It was quiet. Her black pumps hit the marble floor with each step she took, all eyes fell on her. Which brought her ruby red covered lips to a deadly smile. The perfume that radiated off of her slender neck, left a wonderful light smell of flowers in her wake. In this life of a mobster, you live a double life, two personalities. This moment, the beautiful woman was no other than the powerful underboss of Los Bustamante; *Santa Diabla.
"... this marriage the Irish and Italians will be the two most powerful families then I figured this would be the time to voice your opinions about the matter.”
Her nose flared in quick anger at words of the Italian Don; he has sold his daughter because of greed. She prayed her father won't follow the Don's example. Esmeralda took a quick breath, the anger in her eyes was soon replace with the famous cold exterior.
The Spanish beauty stood there, her green eyes gazing at the most powerful men in New York City. Esmeralda was a rare beauty, the rare jewel of the Spanish Mob; her long luxurious brunette with a glint of red hair, her beautiful green eyes, a cupid-bow lips made for kissing and a body which made men lust for.
" Gentlemen, I apologize for my lateness. You know how women are, we take forever to get ready." Her voice was sweet and delicate, her hand was stretched out once she reached within the group of the elders. Each greeted her and complimented of her beauty. " Sadly, I must say my father won't be able to come. You know how are the country government officials are in Dominican Republic."
Esmeralda was offered a seat which she took, and offered a glass of champagne. She turned to face the only other woman in the meeting. Esmeralda really enjoyed not to be only female in the meetings which she rarely come to. It was nice to know a smart woman like Aria. She offered a smile to the young black beauty before she inverted her attention towards Aria's father.
" I did not truly believe you care for anyone's opinion because whether or not we disagree. You will go through it because that is who we are. Greedy little bastards, who cannot get enough. The Spanish Don would be happy of the new ties between the two family. However, as long there is no damage the ties with us." Esmeralda raised her flute glass of champagne towards the new couple. " May this relationship be forever blessed."
* Saint Devil
“Seems like the Spanish are late as usual.” Grigori added his observation while he carved his knife back and forth at the tender meat of his steak. The Russian Don snorted his agreement with his son and helped himself to another roll of bread. Aria watched the pair with an amused grin, the Spanish Don was known for being late and his daughter rarely showed up to any gathering. Her father on the other hand was not in the slightest amused and continued to pick at his plate of pasta. Feeling her mood lighten at her father’s expense Aria helped herself to her glass of white wine and eyed Mathias whom was not enjoying the other guards that gathered around his table.
“Does something else hold your attention?”
Blinking back to reality the Italian underboss turned to look at her father. His eyes cold and narrowed while he calculated what she could be looking at. “It’s nothing but your concern is heartwarming.”
Just as the don was about to add in another comment his own attention turned toward the entrance and a smile appeared on his face. He brushed his napkin against his mouth and stood to his feet, leaving his daughter with the Russians. “Don’t look so down my dear, you look as if though your life is about to be over.” Aria gave a weak smile to the Russian prince but seemed more interested with sipping at her wine glass. A male voice spoke beside her and her big brown eyes glanced upward at the owner of the voice. “At least he seems polite.” She thought pleasantly before offering the young man with a smile. “Aria Bella Celestino.”
“Now that the introductions are out of the way and we are all here…Well almost all of us. I have an announcement to make.” Aria frowned as her father decided to take the stand as the other Dons sat. “It has been decided that my daughter will wed the Green Don’s son. Terms of the arrangement are still being made but given that with this marriage the Irish and Italians will be the two most powerful families then I figured this would be the time to voice your opinions about the matter.”
Knowing she could not voice an objection aloud Aria turned her attention to her husband to be. “So do tell me, has my father’s antics of keeping me hidden disappointed you?”
“Quite the opposite. I was most surprised that you were indeed black. I thought he was referring to your hair color.”
“Thank you Grigori for your insight.” She sarcastically added to the male who was still enjoying his meal.
Unable to help himself Carson popped the lid of his to-go box and picked at the crust of his pie. As a chunk flaked off he put it in his mouth instantly melting away as his taste buds sang their joys. He took notice of his partner leaving so with a pout he closed the box and gripped his coffee cup to follow after the older man but someone slid in across from him that almost made him want to order another plate of pie. If only being a detective paid that much. He made a mental note to remember George’s birthday on time this year. “Nice to meet you. Carson Gallows. Though I do go by CJ.”
Taking his seat again the detective decided not to allow his pie to go to waste. Popping the lid of his to go box he grabbed one of the napkin wrapped utensils and dug into the crisp pastry. “So Isa do you work here? Sadly to admit I am here every day and I have never seen you before.” Though before he could receive an answer his cell buzzed in his pocket. Reaching for the device he took a sip of his coffee and pressed accept. “Talk to me.” He absently nodded his head while continually enjoying both the view and his apple pie. “Alright ETA in about ten.” Hanging up the detective placed his phone back into his suit pocket. “Sorry about this but I have to go. Meet me back here tonight, midnight.” Pulling a purple pen from his inner pocket he took the green eyed beauty’s hand and scribbled down his cell on the surface of her inner wrist. “In case you have plans.” With a wink he left his now empty to go box on the table and raised his Styrofoam cup in farewell. Leaving the diner the detective whistled for a cab to take him to his first appointment of the day.
“You sure took your sweet time.” George called over his shoulder as he saw his partner stroll into the ally. “How was your company?”
Carson lifted his shoulder, “Had to leave before a conversation got started. What do we got Chi?”
A stout Asian male looked up from behind the lens of his digital camera, standing from his knelt position he shifted the large forensic jacket back into place. “We have to Caucasian males found by a Mr. Helms who walked his dog and called it on about an hour ago which by the way the blood pools are coagulating can be the estimated time of death, and for all you little kids it means that these little corpses are fresh. We also have a knife.”
“How did they die?”
“Gunshot. One each. Which means the killer got away, if that isn’t obvious.”
“Is that even possible?” George asked as he knelt down to examine the evidence.
“It is if you know what you are doing.” Carson added while finishing off his last bit of coffee before Chi decided to chime in again.
“And our shooter did indeed. Both were dead because of the bullet and not bleeding to death.”
“Looks like another long night. Carson you want to give the orders while I start the car? I have to call the wife.”
Nodding his head the younger detective exhaled, “Alright. Send the bullets to ballistics and have the reports on my desk by the end of the day. I also want the records of both men and the findings of that knife. Has to be DNA on there somewhere.”
A flash of bright light blinded him from the left side and unable to help himself Carson groaned his displeasure at the sight of his favorite reporter. “Aimee Reynolds of CNN. I’m with detective Gallows at the scene of two murders that add to the total of thirteen deaths just this month. An all-time high since the new commissioner took his position. Do you have any comments on the rumors going around that all of these crimes are due to turf wars?” The microphone was rudely placed in front of his face and Carson pushed it aside with practiced ease. “The NYPD has no comments at this time and any questions that can be answered will be when the mayor makes his public statement.” Dismissing himself Carson handed his cup to the reporter and caught up to his partner. Reaching to the tie around his neck he loosened it with a grumble.
“What’s the matter with the rookie?”
“You try meeting a hot girl only to have to leave in order to pay the bills.”
“I see why you would be so upset by such a trivial thing.”
“Old man do not make me request a new partner.”
“You love me. You couldn’t leave me.”
“I’ve dumbed girls for less.”
The pair chuckled while getting into the black Honda, preparing to return to the office. “So the girl at the diner?”
“I asked her to meet me at midnight.”
“My little boy has a date.”
“One can hope. Only hope.”
The morning routine turned into odd events for the young Irish underboss; who believed each minute of his life was precious and should never be wasted. The surprise visit of his father earlier on today did not bother him at all. It was one of the many perks as son of the Don. Since birth each step he took was always marked, his comings and going always reach the ears of his parents. As the eldest sibling of three, it was his duty to follow his father's footsteps which Adam enjoyed. Adam knew the many sacrifices which would have had to be made in the stake to help the growth of his family. The thought of being tie down in an arranged marriage for ties to another family. However, what did not settle on the young master was he was not informed of the decision of when the future Mrs. O' Sullivan would be.
" Young master, your father had been reported of leaving his home and heading towards the meeting place. We still have 5 minutes left before departure time." The large muscular enforcer informed the young underboss.
Adam took the last of the brown liquid whiskey before slamming the glass upon the marble counter. "No, we leave now."
Adam paid his tap with cash while one of the enforcers went to assist in getting the young underboss ride ready. He was greeted with a farewell from the rich owner. A soft breeze was hit is face, once he step out of the bar. The breeze would help diffusing the warmth of the day, and help him breath more comfortably with the Armani suit. Adam slipped on his sunglasses as he was presented to the car.
" Let's go meet my fiancee."
Adam leaned against the hood of the black Royal Royce, his face showed no expressions while his sunglasses covered the angry eyes to know that his father was once again five minutes behind his arrival. His father always late due to fact his father never goes the same route more than once.
" What's with the face, lad?" The green don asked, a small grin greeted his son as Adam pushed himself off the hood. His always enjoyed the meeting between the families, give him more reason to drink with mother not around to nag at him. However, Adam believe this time the famous grin had to do with something to do with something more. " Come on now, we don' want to be more late than it is."
The green Don and the young underboss enter inside the famous hotel which most of the meetings were held. Adam remained by his father side while his father blabber away on the millions worth of art his mother had added into the O'Sullivan's compound.
Adam and the green Don was lead to the luxury room where waiting for them was the other families. Adam removed his glasses, while he stuffed them in his suit front pocket and flagged a waitress down to order a bottle, in behalf of his father, for the group of men. The green Don both greeted each Don and underboss with a firm handshake while having small talk on the wives. Adam stood by his father's side, greeting the men and joining in the 'small talk'.
His grey eyes wondered over to stop at the famous Black Beauty. He knew little about the young woman simply she had no business with her until now.
"Excuse me gentlemen," Adam said, he moved away from the older men and made his way over to the heiress. Adam gently grabbed her petite hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on the back of her hand. "*Signora, a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Adam O'Sullivan, son of the Green Don."
Spring had finally made its debut; it was threatening to be over seventy degrees with chance of rain. Certainly, mother earth did not fail to comply with her promises. Her muscles ached from earlier exercise and as for the dark circles under her eyes from the sleepless nights. Her slender tanned fingers brushed her hair back as she took another sip of coffee. Mentally, her brain thanked her for the shot of the bitter stimulant drug; caffeine. Her eyes fluttered shut, and enjoy the brief moment of solitude. It been so long...
"Hello there, ma'am."
The Spanish beauty was startled by a masculine voice, her eyes flew opened to reveal the beautiful green eyes which she was named for. In her line of vision she notice a older man, standing in a grey suit jacket and tan suit pants with a green tie. Esmeralda could tell the man was a middle class worker. His tired eyes and wrinkles that claimed his face from probably from overtime. The man appeared to be in his late forties' which settle the princess for now. Esmeralda smiled sweetly at the man and her right hand gripped on the metal fork as she carefully slice her delight in half. Any wrong move, she won't hesitate to stab the young in his neck. " Hello, can I assist you with anything sir?"
"Sorry to interrupt you and I hope you do not mind. I must go take care of some personal things and I don't want to my friend back here alone. Since both of you are sitting alone, I thought you can keep each other's company."
Esmeralda did not want to keep a older man company that would make googly eyes at her each passing minute. She glance over to the direction where the man was pointing. "I don't think so..."
Her emerald eyes stop at his face for the first time, and it stop the Spanish beauty cold.The first thought pops into her mind took her by surprise, almost as if it were placed there. "I'm going to marry him."
He is the best looking man Esmeralda has ever seen. This man was tall, blonde and lean, noticeable through his suit, and from what you can make out, he had nearly perfect features. He smile a gentle smile and light glints off his gorgeous eyes. A deep breath to slow her heart back to its normal pace.
" Um, don't worry, I will keep him good company." Esmeralda stammered, she rose fluidity from her seat and walk over to the blonde man, marveling at him.
Esmeralda reached over at the booth down the front and slowly slide herself the opposite side from the blonde man. "Hello, I hope you don't mind. Your friend asked me to introduce myself. My name is Isabell, but Isa is what everyone calls me."
It was the third time Mathis had checked his watch and each time he would mention the time he was asked to add an addition ten minutes. “Aria I don’t see how someone with a bottomless closet has nothing to wear.” All he received was a bout of sarcastic laugher and a bundle of fabric thrown at his face. “We are going to be late.” He called out.
“Alright I heard you the second time. Tell me the truth how do I look?”
Mathis ran a hand down his face and sighed while pushing himself off the couch. “Just like the other four dresses you look..” He paused in his rant as Aria stood in the frame of her bedroom door, her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail and a pair of gold leaf earring dangled from her earlobe. The makeup was simple but still matched the gold accent of her earrings along with her gold heels and the white dress
clung tightly to her voluptuous body. “Well?” She asked again when Mathis said nothing. The bodyguard coughed to get himself back to the present but smiled, “You look great now lets go. Please?”
“Well I guess so, but actually I think I need more lips gloss.” She laughed as Mathis shook his head and tossed her over his shoulder. “Mathis put me down. This is crazy.” She giggled but put up no fight as her friend carried her down the rickety flight of step. When they reached the bottom of the steps he gripped her waist and put her on her feet. “What?” Aria found herself asking but of course she already knew the answer.
“It’s nothing. I’m just going to miss you.”
“Mathis I’m not leaving. I’m just…”
“Getting married?” He interrupted sharply. Aria licked her lips and frowned at the artificial coconut flavor that now lingered in her mouth. “We are still friends aren’t we?” She whispered at her feet, his warm fanned over her face and she knew he was exhaling. “I know you didn’t grow up with this but you know your father Bella….Come on lets go.”
Obediently Aria followed behind her guard, damn the mafia, she thought bitterly. She wasn’t cruel, she couldn’t kill anyone, hell she couldn’t sit through Marley and Me
without shedding a tear. “I didn’t ask for this.” She said aloud hoping Mathis would give her some hope that everything would be fine, but given his silence, hope was the last thing on his mind.
Aria glanced over her shoulder to meet the eyes of her two guard who quietly conversed at their own separate table. Once glanced at his watch before shrugging his shoulders in return to her silent question. “I have to say nothing is more stunning than a woman waiting for something?”
Unable to help herself Aria felt her lips pull downward into a frown, “Grigori. I was almost hoping that you weren’t coming.”
The blonde heir placed a hand on his chest as if her comment wounded him. “As if I could refuse an invitation from the lovely and infamous Black Beauty.” He gripped her hand and placed a sloppy kiss on the smooth surface. “Don’t you need to be in school?” She added sharply before pulling her hand back. The young man snorted as he slumped into his seat. “I’m Russian darling. * Все что мне нужно, чтобы добиться успеха в жизни, водка.” His blue eyes landed on a passing waitress and he flagged her down to order his vice. “So tell me, what is this meeting about?”
“Im sure our fathers want to discuss business. As always wanting to make an entrance.”
“+Mai una parola gentile di quelle belle labbra. Siete più come tua madre poi ho capito.” Stated a gruff voice before a pair of warm lips were pressed against her cheek. “I hope you are less hostile toward our guest.”
“Never worry Celestino. Your daughter is always a vision of elegance.”
“You say that now but wait until the guest of honor arrives.”Translations
* All I need to succeed in life is vodka
+ Never a kind word out of those pretty lips. You are more like your mother then I realized
His father was notorious before Adam was born, just as his father was before him. The O'Sullivan name struck fear into people's hearts, and from a young age. Adam was expected to continue the tradition.
Those people that see Adam O'Sullivan the only see the Irish Billionaire; not the ruthless murder with ties of the West End Mob Mafia at his disposal. There is one thing about Adam, it's he knows what he wants and he goes and get it. One thing he never wanted was a wife. Now in a couple of months he will share his life with a stranger. Adam was uncertain if his fiancée wanted marriage, children, and the happily ever after; while he could only offer her was the help and protection of the West End Mob. In the present time of being twenty-eight, he wasn't a naive little boy who believed in love.Adam was foolish enough years ago to fall in love, but he soon realised being an heir for a company that is worth billions, there was no true lo e for him.
The infamous mobster leaned against the high backed swivel and Adam looked down at his glass of whiskey and frowned a little once his gray eyes glance over at the brown paper bag that rested on the chair by him. It has been two hours ago when he received the last minute gifts for the black beauty. Adam did not enjoyed to do last minute surprise errands. Lucky enough, Adam was friends with the editor of Times. As he expected the mutli-millions gifts to secure the princess could be satisfied until her next request. At least from the heavy literature the Italian princess had some common sense in her. His money will be safe from the glittery jewelry for now. Adam believed that the real gifts are the ones that come from within.
Adam took a sip of his whiskey and closed his eyes as liquid rolled down his throat.He was on his third glass, so there was no burning effect-well none that he notice.Adam had enough time to himself before attending his next appointment in his agenda. For now Adam will enjoy the quiet time in a bar in the Upper West Side.
Aria found herself laughing as she rushed through the crowded sidewalk back toward her apartment. Though the reason for her laughter was out of context, as always New York was gray and over cast but everyone still seemed surprised that it had decided to rain. “You couldn’t have picked a better day to ignore your father’s wishes.” Mathias called after her as he struggled to keep her sketch book protected with his leather jacket. The young woman only gave him a slightly shrug before darting into the main floor of her apartment complex.
Mathias stopped at the mailbox wall and extended his hand, a silent request for the keys. Rolling her eyes at his slightly annoying habit, Aria tossed the keys through the air and began her climb up thirty flights of stairs toward her apartment. “Would it have killed you to live in one of your father’s hotels?” Mathias complained from was sounded like the sixth floor. “And be under his watchful eye more than I am now? I think I will pass.”
As she arrived at her door Aria pulled her hair from its ponytail and frowned as the wet curls clung to her scalp and further soaked her outfit. Mathias finally caught up to her and handed her the keys while he hunched over to catch his breath. “I’m gonna take a bath, you can watch TV or iron my dress if you want.”
“Your condescending tone is not welcome.” The man grumbled under his breath as he quickly ushered the underboss inside. As Aria made her way toward her room she leisurely began to remove her wet clothes. First her shoes, then the jacket, pants top and so one and so forth until a trail of clothes littered her apartment floor leading a clear path to her room. Once inside she picked through her nail polish collection and decided on her favorite color, and drew her bubble bath.
A sigh of pure bliss left her lips as the hot water washed away the memories of the icy rain. The white bubbles sizzled as they slid down her skin and as she sculpted them into little towers like any child would. Lowering her head, Aria ran her fingers through the water to remove it of its tangles then quickly pinned it to the top of her heading a messy bun. Then she reached for the dark emerald nail polish and began to paint the ring finger on her left hand. It had always been her mother’s little quirk for good luck. Pick you favorite color and paint a single finger of your choosing and whenever you needed a bit of luck or to calm down all you had to do was rub that finger. Childish from a woman well in her thirties but what did you expect from an aspiring artist.
A knock on the bathroom door jolted Aria out of her memories. “Your father is here.” Mathias called out to her from the other side of the door. “Its unlocked.” She called out in return and moments later the door opened. Spotting her lack of appropriate appearance at once the Don of the Cosa Nostra frowned, Mathias looked at her in shock, and the two soldiers that always shadowed her father grinned and winked at her. Quickly slamming the door behind him the Don rolled his shoulder’s and relaxed, turning to face his amused daughter. As always he was dressed to the nine’s. His tailored ash grey suit did its job in hiding the thick muscles the older man possessed and while the icy blue tie and matching handkerchief that poked from his right breast pocket gave him an are of elegance, the man was lethal incarnate.
He was handsome of course, like most men of his ethnicity. Olive skin, dark green eyes flicked with gold and a head of thick blonde hair, highlighted with shades of brown. It was the pretty ones you had to watch out for in this business. “What is it?” She asked desperately trying not to lash out for his interrupting her bath time.
^”Mi sei mancato a casa. Anche se vedo il tuo impegno precedente era molto più importante.” The Don stated simply both patronizing her and demanding she speak in Italian in his presence. Aria rolled her eyes again.
!“Mi scuso se volevo passare un'altra sessione di sequestro di persona. Anche se dubito che sia il motivo per cui siete qui”
The Don looked at her in confusion and feigned hurt, “You are right my dear. I have present for you.”
Glancing at her father in shock Aria finally noticed the gift he spoke of. It was a dress, that much could be said since he was holding it up by a hanger and the cursive letters across the white plastic wrote out a C and a K in large print. Or as Aria liked to label it, a bribe. Her eyes lifted back to her father and she waited for his explanation, when he gave none she sighed. “I already have a dress for gathering of the families.”
“This is for another occasion after the meeting. A more formal occasion.” When he paused Aria glanced up at him with a frown. “The Don of the West End Mob has given me a proposition and I have accepted.”
“What is it?”
“You are to marry his son and bind them to us in an alliance.”
Aria laughed, she couldn’t help herself because for some reason the thought her father just said she was pawning her off to the West End. When he didn’t share in her laughter she struggled to contain her own, “This is no laughing matter.” He drawled as his accent laid thick.
“How did you two come to this wondrous conclusion?” sarcasm
“Out pockets are not as deep as theirs in Gun trading and..”
“And we have nothing else they want aside from money.” Aria finished for her father. She was well aware of their ties with the other mobs, hell she was the one who drafted the contracts that got her father a taste of everything. The Russians were more than happy to pay a few extra thousand for supplies of more addictive drugs and the names of the cops who turned a blind eye against their actions.
The Spanish were given more customers because the better quality drugs were sold to the very rich who liked to gamble and in turn the Cosa Nostra would pay for advertisement as long as when information was needed on certain people, no questions were asked.
The Irish on the other hand were more prideful that the Italians and most likely just as stubborn as the Spanish and claimed they wanted nothing this in turn the Cosa Nostra received nothing. Now it seemed that all changed. “Cheer up my dear, you will be happy to know that I called the Don and instructed his son to pick up too books that were not in your library. The Three Musketeers and The hunchback on Notre Dame in the original French. Also Mathias is not to go with you to dinner and where you will be eating at is in with the dress.”
Damn that man for being able to know her well enough to entice her to go. He played to her emotions and challenged her at the same time. Given how much she wanted to prove herself she wouldn’t think to turn down him down.
“Mathis. Whats up first.”
The young man hesitated but then answered. “Lunch with all the families will start at one in the afternoon.”
Turning her attention to her small clock the face red 10, meaning she had one hour to dig up dirt on the three other underbosses and one hour to get ready and leave. Plenty of time. Standing from her tub she reached for her lavender robe and tightened the belt around her waist. Quickly she left her back room and walked into the far corner of her bed room and sat at the computer desk. With a crack of her knuckles her fingers briskly flew across the key board and the single monitor came to life. With a few more pressed keys the wall behind her desk opened to reveal four other flat screened monitors, each one scrolling with endless data. She smiled and began typing away.
(font “Vivaldi” Translations)
^I missed you at the house. Though I see your previous engagement was far more important
! I apologize if I wanted to pass on another session of kidnapping. Though I doubt that is the reason why you are here.
Adam slowed again about a block from the hotel building. He came to a slow walk, again catching his breath slightly. It had, against what Adam had originally thought, started raining. The underboss glanced up in disbelief, holding a hand out to verify that it really was raining. He scowled, upon feeling the raindrops fall faster, and more often. What the fuck is it with this godforsaken place anyway? The Irish man showed up on the crosswalk light, and Adam, plus about twenty others, crossed the street. A lot of people were on their way to work or daily errands.
What a dreadful day.
Adam had enough to deal with today, having a meeting later on with the three other families. After the meeting he thought about chilling back at the club with his capos and a bunch of women to keep them entertain. Now, he would have to stay around and help his father with the business.
Huge, over the top, silver doors, with mirrored glass panels stood to Adam's left. He shoved rudely past a few people as they struggled to open their umbrellas in the crowd. It was effectively pouring now. Some people hid under their briefcases, or sleeves, looking as irritated as Adam at the turn in the weather. The underboss pushed the large doors open, and was inside the large, opulent lobby. He pulled the hood back off his head, it was sopping wet now, and began to soak through his hoodie in the back. The concierge, a man and a woman behind a desk, immediately recognized him, maybe not as the underboss of the West End Mob, but at the very least, as their most valuable customer. They both smiled graciously, and straightened their posture. Adam made brief eye contact, but pretended not to see them anyway. He was still catching his breath, and was too winded to get caught up in small talk. He went straight to the express elevator and swiped his key card. It wasn't long before he reached the top story, the gold doors slid open, and Adam soon wished they'd close again.
His father, the great Don of the West End Mob, was standing there, in full black suit, smiling at his son broadly, unmoving, unblinking, directly in Adam's path. "Can I help you?" Adam asked roughly, trying to sidestep the man, unsuccessfully.
"Hello, my dear son. I called. However, no answer from you. So I came here. Glad to have met you in time to inform about the black beauty of the Cosa Nostra."
Most people feared the green Don, to the point of shitting themselves and running the other direction. Most people wanted to exploit the Don or kill him as soon as humanly possible. When it came to the Don, he was a dangerous thing and if it was on the manuscript that they had killed or abducted him, they'd be the top of the game and even more wanted then the originally infamous. Now, there were a rare few that didn't feel fear around the Don at all, and some people who actually believed beneath that dark heart there was something else - even if that is a lie, or is it? - and some people tried to exploit that.
Adam was one of those.
Adam let out a heavy sign, and nodded fully aware of his father intentions. The West End Mob has long wanted a strong and forever alliance with the one of the most powerful family; the Cosa Nostra. Like always, the green Don has manage to ask for the hand in marriage of the dark beauty and the Don of the Cosa Nosta accepted. Knowing it would forever bring peace between the two families.
Adam already was inform of the permanent alliance.However, the underboss of the Cosa Nosta wasn't inform about the arrangement . Adam job was to woo the dark beauty to the point she found Adam acceptable. Until now, Adam has been against it the arrange marriage.
" Enough. Tonight, I made reservation at Le Bernardin's later on tonight with the lovely woman. Do me the favor and do not disgrace this family." His father stated, stepping back into the elevator, once Adam step onto his floor.
" I won't, father. I promise."
"Good, have a wonderful time my son." The Don smiled, as the elevator doors closed.
A severely sarcastic scowl clouded over Adam's face. He entered into his penthouse, closing the door behind him. He lean against the door, his hand over his face.
"What the fuck, am I do with her?" Adam removed his hoodie and headed to get ready for the tonight's event.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
“If you keep up that tapping thing everyone here is going to think you are going through withdrawal.”
“Nothing a good cup of joe cant fix.”
“Says the addict.”
Carson turned his baby blues toward his friend and like always came up with a snarky reply, “You and I both know that I have extremely bad luck. It seems every murderer in this city always feels the need to attack someone right at the moment before I get my coffee.”
The other male just lifted his hands in mock surrender and lifted his mug to enjoy his own drink. “Maybe it would help if you didn’t order an apple pie.”
Carson quickly snapped his focus back toward his friend, “George! I can not believe you just said that. After everything we have been through together you would deny me this?” The male made a show of his outburst and completed the look with a pout of his lower lip. George scowled and looked around the small café, not at all amused as the other customers started staring.
“Will you shut up? You make it sound like I brought you here after a one night stand.”
Carson grinned, “You wish you could get me in bed. Alas you just have to settle with spending late nights with me while we look over crime scenes.”
“One fresh cut apple pie with a large coffee to go. Two creams and one sugar, just the way you like it. Plus five percent off for my favorite detectives.”
Carson beamed at the red headed waitress. Ruth Taylor, a 29 no nonsense waitress and owner of the best coffee house in the city, returned his smile and began writing up there check. George whistled and Carson rose a brow in his direction. “I think Heaven just opened its gates.”
Still confused Carson turned in his seat, with a fork still in his mouth to see what had caught his friends attention. Sitting alone in a far booth was a vision of pure loveliness, at least she would be if she didn’t look so wicked. Her thick hair was a mixture of auburn and tints of purple and the tresses frame a face that he knew you couldn’t get unless God Almighty smiled down on you.
“At times like this I wish I wasn’t married.”
Carson turned his head back at his friend, “Yeah right. You love Amber. That little red head would eat you alive then spit you out just for jollies.”
George looked up at the ceiling in though but still smiled, the man was in love. “Well I guess that means she is for you.”
Quickly Carson shook his head and ran a hand over his buzz cut. “You know how I am around girls. I can keep an interesting conversation to save me life.”
“That’s because you try to hard to impress them. Be yourself, and all you need is a little push.”
Hearing the stool scrap against the tile floor, Carson looked up just in time to see his friend cross the café and over to the lone girl. The asswhole pointed back at Carson with an evil grin on both his lips and in his eyes. Then Carson felt his phone ring, forgetting his embarrassment for a moment he answered, only to be relieved for the first time ever that someone was killed.
George received the same message but when he excused himself from the young woman’s side he returned to Carson and leveled him with a knowing gaze. “I’ll handle it. You go play nice.”
“Your kidding me right?”
“Nope. You can thank me later.”
With that George was gone and Carson was left sitting there like an idiot. Just a great way to start the morning.
Few people understand that the ability to sleep in the large city of New York is nothing short of a miracle. Tourist toss and turn but rationalize that their misery is shared with everyone else in the over populated urban jungle. The locals are too busy with entertaining themselves to even be concerned with the sleeping pattern of normal people. Others are working late, some stay up all night tending to their family and so on and so forth.
Though the select few can ignore the call of a dimly lit dance club, the angry blaring of cab horns, and the nonstop flicker of a streets light struggling to stay lit when it knows it wants to die. Those few can curl up into the plush chill of freshly washed sheets and find bliss in deep sleep.
^“E 'ora di svegliarsi principessa” A low voice beckoned from the solitude of the darkness. Of course the kindness was then met with a rude grunt and a failure to comply. The owner of said voice frowned before turning his attention to the curtains and reached up to pull them apart. As he repeated the process with the other three windows, sunlight streamed in through the large floor length loft but the male was not finished.
Returning his attention to the bed he gently took hold of the thick comforter and then pulled. The body he revealed curled into a ball in hopes to protect itself against the cold but it did nothing. “Aria. It is time to get up.”
“I heard you the first time I just chose not to reply.”
The young man frowned but simply folded his arms across his broad chest and waited for the girl to respond. For five minutes he watched the young female underboss simply lay there in what seemed to be in an assortment of books. “What have I told you about reading in bed?” He asked before leaning down to pick up the numerous novels.
“What have I told you about giving me orders?” Aria responded smoothly as she finally decided to sit up. The thick curls of her russet hair falling in a silent curtain around her face as she squinted against the dulled light of the New York sky. “What time is it?” She asked before climbing out of bed.
“Almost eight.” The male answered. As he returned the books to their right place he glanced up at the young woman who leaned against the frame of her bathroom door with a frown on her lips. “What?” He asked, genuinely confused.
“Why are you here Mathias?” She questioned just short of a snap.
“Your father wanted to make sure you got your training done before we met with the other families.”
“Oh no. Today is my day off. I have done enough for this week.”
Mathias lifted his left shoulder in a shrug, “Your hand to hand combat is adequate at best and while your shooting skills are unmatched..”
“Im still not good enough.” She muttered under her breath. Mathias said nothing in response. The Cosa Nostra prided itself in keeping to tradition so when the Don showed up 15 years ago with his half daughter, hell broke out. How could he think to bring such a child into the fold? Let alone make her his heir. Most believed that the Don loved the woman who gave him his only child, while others believed it was because she had no one else. Mathias knew better, Aria was smart. A genius in fact and cold blooded as her father. That kind of combination could not be left untrained or unattended. Yet even still she was treated as an outcast among the ranks of the Cosa Nostra. Unwanted and unworthy.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or leave so I can get dressed?”
Mathias bowed his head and left without another word. Aria glared into his back and refused to show any emotion until the door to her bedroom was closed. A slew of curses left her lips and she began to stomp around her room. Nothing she did was good enough. No matter how many languages she learned, how much income she brought it, people she successfully killed and hidden, nothing was ever good enough. Hell she even sat through a torture session with her father just to prove to him she was strong. She didn’t cry as his guard broke her ribs. She didn’t scream as they repeatedly stabbed her. No she gritted her teeth and took it because she would never break. Afterward’s his bitch of a whore simply cooed, “What a well trained monkey.” Yeah it was a crack as her other half, yes she should have ignored it, didn’t end up that way.
Pushing the past to the back of her mind Aria quickly showered and went through the motions of her morning routine. Now came the hard part, deciding on an outfit for the day. True to her earlier words of having a day off the young woman decided on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white tank top and a red leather half jacket. Her shoes were the classic red all-star high tops.
Finally happy with her appearance Aria pinned her hair up in a high pony tail. Grabbing her sketchbook and pencil case she left the haven of her room and nearly collided with Mathias. “Would it kill you to sit on the couch like a normal person?” She asked bitterly as she sidestepped him.
“The outfit does not seem ideal for fast movement.” He called after her as they left the apartment.
“That’s because I am going to the park. I already told you, no training today. You can spank me later but right now I just need some me time.”
“You cant have any ‘me’ time. Your far too valuable. This is the first time the Don has allowed you to come to the family gathering and I think he intends to show you off. Your debt did cause quite an upstart.”
Aria groaned, “First all, planning four simultaneous murders and getting the other mafias off our turf is hardly a debut. Secondly I cant believe you let the spanking comment slide.”
Like she hoping Mathias chuckled, but her point had been made and he let her be. As always silence surrounded Aria as she made her way to central park with Mathias at her side and it was at times like this that Aria was glad the he had a dick because if he didn’t she wouldn’t even be able to go to the bathroom in peace.
“Usual place?” He asked in perfect timing that caused the young woman to blush. She only nodded her head and lead the way to the bench that sat dead center of the aspiring musicians of the big city. Mathias hated the continuous noise but Aria loved it. She could hear how while each musician had their our style they didn’t try to outdo one another. The different instruments lulled, hummed and vibrated her bones to a point where she just wanted to get up and dance to the beat that hammered in her heart, but she settled for just her art.
Sitting on her bench she watched with a smile as Mathias spotted a candy apple cart and dashed after it. Taking the moment of freedom Aria removed her phone from her pocket and quickly logged onto Inspirations At first the chat site was meant to be a joke, something that was equal to a blog, but the more she kept it the more she loved it. It was the only place she posted her art and the only place people enjoyed looking at it. She felt pride swell with each praise she received but it was fleeting
The Spanish beauty irritated tone echoed off of the hard glass mirrors of the gym, impatience tracing her determined features. They'd been trying to complete this skill for hours, attempting it over and over again. When she watched her trainer do it things which seemed so easy. He slipped under her body so effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder like it was nothing. Why couldn't she? They had previously been practicing to help her master this move.
"Okay, we'll try it again. This time take it slow," Esme nodded, and licked her lips to moisten the dry skin on her face. She took a moment to straighten out her shorts and recompose, sucking in a deep breath before raising her hands in the defensive stance and nodding in approval. Her master stepped forward, throwing a punch in slow motion. Esme shoved it away using the defensive portion of the skill before moving in for the offense. Her hand slid past his shoulder and over his shoulder blades until she felt his belt. In a matter of seconds she had grabbed onto it, and assumed the position perfectly: Her body under his in a parallel manner, back pressed up against his chest. The dark beauty was preparing to do the small, unsuccessfully hop that she'd been practicing for hours now when her trainer stopped her.
"Stop, stop, stop," He called out, tapping her side with his free arm. She let go of his belt willingly, but didn't move, thinking that maybe he would show her where to go from the position they were in. "Your legs are too far apart. It's dispersing your weight. You’ll never be able to use this throw with your footing like that." Esme looked down at her bare feet, and sighed.
Esmeralda loved to learn Sambo, but things such as this confused her. In Muy Thai she had been taught to always let her feet be apart in some manner, to maintain balance. If she brought her feet together such as he was suggesting then she would lose her footing, and he would fall on top of her – more than likely crushing her ribcage in the process. "Don't be afraid to lose your balance for a couple of seconds. Roll with the throw, you're not supposed to be left standing after this." Esme nodded and pulled herself out from under him so that she was standing straight up once more. Sambo reminded her of an odd combination between Brazillian jiu-jitsu, classic American kickboxing and Silat. She knew quite a bit about Silat, the style that she had trained with in Indonesia but as for American kickboxing, well, she knew very little about it. And Brazillian jiu-jitsu was a joke as far as the Spanish beauty was concerned. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. And we're going all the way this time. I'm tired of taking it slow." Her trainer nodded and smirked, resuming the stance that he had held earlier. And when he threw the punch, Esme was grateful that he had put all of his weight and power into it. That was the one thing she loved about her trainer – he didn't underestimate her.
Esme shoved the punch away with graceful accuracy, and turned quickly. Her back hit his body, and this time she put a bit more of a shove into it as her hand gripped his belt. This prepared her for the big jump, the one that would throw them both. This wasn't part of the technique, but rather a last minute addition thrown in there to help the girl out. And it worked. She placed her feet close together, six inches apart exactly, squared right under her hips, before straightened her bent knees with force, leaning forward and rolling on top of the trainer as she completely the throw. The achievement was met with a bright smile from Esme, something that was consistent with her mastering difficult tasks. Moments like this reminded her that sometimes prior knowledge of other martial arts was sometimes the opposite of helpful. "Okay," Esme said, breathless from excitement rather than physical demand. “Let’s do it about ten more times, and we will be done for the day." When they had first started their training with Sambo. Esme had let her trainer make the lesson plans, and schedule their conditioning.
They finished up for the afternoon with a three mile run through park, followed by basic conditioning in the gym, and a thorough stretch. Tomorrow her trainer would be teaching her a few more throws, and then they could focus more on grappling.
Esmeralda grabbed her gym bag, and waved goodbye to her trainer before leaving the small small gym. She went straight to her lamborghini, beeping her car open and throwing her bag into the back seat before slamming it shut. Esme headed across the street to a nice hot spot where they served the best iced coffee with milk and cinnamon chip scones.
Esme entered the shop, she was greeted by the friendly owner and was seated by the back booth. Right now, was the moment to relax before heading back to the reality of her life.
Thump, Thump, Thump.
Blood rushing through ears, air into lungs, feet smacking the pavement…and nothing else. Around, people went about their lives, ignorant to what danger they could have been in, had that runner acted on some whim that might have flitted through his mind. But that was just it. Adam wasn't thinking about anything, and that was precisely the point. A crosswalk stopped Adam in his tracks, for the seventh time since he started running. The man couldn't even be bothered with frowning though, as annoying as it was, because he was rather preoccupied trying to breathe enough to keep from falling over. It was a thin line that Adam kept, when he ran. He ran hard and fast enough so that his ears rang, he struggled for breath, his legs hurt, and he got that heady, light-as-air feeling, he'd become so addicted to. He pushed the envelope, between what a person could or could not do, harder, depending on the day. Today, he was booking it. Adrenaline was the only thing he was still going on. It was the end of the first hour. Normally, that would have been enough.
The crosswalk light turned white, and Adam started running again. The don wore a thin black zip up sweatshirt with the hood up, as if he was expecting rain, even though it didn't exactly look like a rainy day in the making. Well, in California, it would have, but here in New York. It was merely gray, overcast, as it was often during the spring season. It was one of those days that made it impossible for someone to have the motivation to do anything, besides sit around and think. It was this which was the cause for Adam's running being more intense than usual.
Suddenly, and without real reason, Adam realized that he'd never been where he currently was. The streets had, all of a sudden, cleared out. Adam's pace slowed gradually until he was walking, panting for air. He stopped for a second, hand on the cold brick of a seemingly abandoned building. Here and there, a person would scurry from one building to another. That was the word for it too, scurry, with a purpose. Turning around, Adam played with the idea of running again. He decided against it though, and walked back the way he'd come, his breaths becoming more controlled as he went.
After about a block though, Adam noticed that a man was walking in his direction, glancing occasionally up, directly at him. He pretended not to notice, and kept walking, with just a little more purpose, under the impression that the man may've recognized him. As Adam passed the man, he glanced towards him, unable to keep a frown off of his face. He met the other man's cheery grin, about a second before the guy spun around, grabbing Adam's shirt and tossing him into a wall. "Got anything valuable on ya?" The man jeered, pulling a rather pathetic looking, but shiny pocketknife from his pocket. "Hope for your sake the answers yes."
There was a silence following that the man might have taken for being fearful. Really, it was more awkward than anything, not only because the man he was unknowingly mugging was a mafia underboss, but also because another man had wandered out from a near alleyway, pulling a rusty, but more threatening-looking kitchen knife from his pocket, brandishing it in the direction of the first man. Adam pointed snidely at the second man, who apparently wasn't planning on a sneak attack, because, almost before the first man looked, he had started speaking. "Get offa our block. He's ours."
The first man released Adam's collar a little bit as he turned to speak. "You know this ain't your block. I caught 'em anyways." He turned back to Adam, clearly trying to put the matter to rest.
The other man wouldn't have it. "I said, drop 'em."
Adam stifled a sigh. The first man glanced towards him almost apologetically, still holding the knife near Adam's throat. "Gimmie one second." The man grunted, almost inaudibly. Adam nodded his acceptance, and the man dropped him completely and turned to the second man. What followed next almost pained the underboss to watch. The two began arguing childishly and circling each other, occasionally waving the knife at each other, acting like they were actually going to fight. This went on for about five minutes, and Adam seemed all but forgotten by the time he decided to take action.
He sighed and reached into the inside of his hoodie, pulling the pistol out calmly, and without so much as a sound. He contemplated his targets for a second, as he cocked the gun and raised it, without show, much like that of a hunter, shooting ducks. After a second, he made his decision, and one recoil later, the second man lay on the ground, twitching and bleeding from a gaping gunshot wound in the middle of his neck. Adam smirked and spun the pistol around his finger like a cowboy, and put it back into the inside of his sweatshirt. By this time, the first man was long gone, having shrieked and run down the street, and into some side street. Adam rocked back on his feet for a moment and then took off jogging again, with little show, in the direction of his Penthouse.
Enough exercise for one day.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.