Chapter One
Dragna
“I’ve told you already Dragna, I want sixty five percent or it’s no deal.”
I don’t know how many times he is going to think telling me how much he wants is going to make me give in.
Nero sits across the table from me wearing a sleek, fitted Italian suit. Leaning back in his chair, he shoots his cuffs with a smirk on his face acting like he’s the fucking Don.
I hate the Italians.
My father was Italian and he was a bastard. My mother however, is half Russian, half Serbian and an angel of a woman, which leaves me, Pakhan of the Bratva and having to deal with idiots like the Italians thanks to my grandfather.
Nero has grown up thinking the world should bow at his feet when he’s never had to get his hands bloody before.
The scumbag really gets on my nerves.
He’s the Capo’s son and has grown up privileged, having everything he wants handed to him without having to lift a finger just because of the family he comes from. I don’t think he’s even so much as thrown a punch at another man before.
At twenty seven years old he is a child in this game, especially compared to the rest of us who have grown up seeing the real brutality of the underworld.
He’s a strategist though, throwing numbers and smart words around as a way of getting inside your head to make you think you will profit from a deal. I’m not so fucking desperate orstupid however to accept his demands. He can go to hell for all I care.
Two of the Italian’s men accompany Nero around the table alongside myself, my Sovetnik and four of our men.
We have spent the last three hours playing poker, drinking whiskey and as of now, I’m tired of entertaining him all night.
I can hear the faint bass from the club below us and it thumps along to the headache I feel brewing.
I love being Pakhan but when it comes to dealing with assholes like this, I’d fucking love a day off.
I decide I’ve had enough as I stand from the poker table.
“Quite frankly, I’m done with you tonight Nero. You can accept our terms of thirty five percent, skip off back to your father and the Don with a deal, or fuck off with nothing but your tail between your legs. My men will show you all out.” I say lifting my glass with me and taking my suit jacket off the back of my chair.
My Sovetnik stands with me along with one of our men. My remaining men stay seated, staring at Nero incase he finally decides to grow some balls and pull a stunt everyone in this room would know to be idiotic.
I’m not taking any chances getting cocky in thinking he wouldn’t do anything though, because that is when you make mistakes, and I don’t make mistakes.
I don’t let anything or anyone distract me, I don’t let anyone in who I haven’t grown up with within the Bratva and I don’t have women around me either despite what my mother begs every time we have dinner together.
My life is business, profits, getting my way, making sure nobody fucks anything up, and if they do, then it involves putting them down. This is what I’m known for which is why I’m surprised as hell when Nero speaks as I begin walking to the door.
“Fuck you Dragna.” He says with an exasperated sigh.
“Forty percent and we’ll sign off on the deal in the next five minutes. Everyone leaves here happy with something tonight.” He says as he looks me in the eye and lifts his glass in the air as a sign of cheers.
He’s waiting for my next move hoping I will agree and raise mine back.
I don’t.
I bring my glass to my lips and toss back the whiskey ignoring his demands.
Nero’s face is priceless, I’ll have to watch it back on our CCTV later to see it in his eyes that this is the moment he realises he’s fucked up.
I can’t help the smirk that breaks free across my face as I let out a huff of a laugh.
“When are you going to learn it’s bad etiquette to insult a man in his own territory Nero? You heard about my deal and my terms and wanted in on it to try and prove yourself to daddy and Don dearest. You come to my club to try and negotiate as if you are something, but in reality, you are nothing.” I say as I put my suit jacket on, not even looking him in the eye.
