"Sit," I say with a bit more weight behind it.
"If you insist, sir." She comes over and settles her weight into the seat, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you."
"Do you want anything?" I lower my glass onto the table and stand. "What's your poison, Sasha?"
"Oh, sir, that's too kind. You don't need to do that." She begins to rise to her feet but I put my hand up.
"Seriously, it's the least I can do. It's been a long flight. Kick your shoes off and recline your seat. What will you have to drink?" I place my hand on the edge of her headrest and wait for her to answer me.
She swallows and seems to consider my question like it might be a trap ofsome sort. "I guess I've always been fond of brandy, sir."
I offer her what I think is a smile, but when I glance in the mirror, it appears more like a scowl. It's no wonder she's skeptical of me. "Brandy it is." I rummage through the selection of fine booze on the company’s private jet until I find the one I'm looking for. I pour a healthy doseintothe glass and ask, "Do you prefer it neat or on the rocks?"
"Neat, please, sir."
I return to our sitting area and place the drink infrontof her. "Enjoy, you earned it."
Settlingintomy seat again, I observe her as she fidgets with the glass.
"Just say it, Sasha, I can see it written all over your face." I lean back and bring my own glass to my lips, sipping slowly.
"I mean this as no offense, sir, but you're just not like the rest of them."
"Compliment or insult?"
Sasha recoils a bit. "I would never insult you, sir. Truly. I have been in this...industry...for quite some time. Youhavea great deal ofresponsibility,but you handle it very well, without letting it change who you are.Youare kind."
An accidental laugh bubbles out. "Didn't you just hear me threaten Harry?"
"Harry is lazy." She shrugs. "He needs to be threatened." Sasha dares to look me straight in the eye. "You can be ruthless andstilla good, fair man."
"Think so?"
"I know so." Sasha tips her glass toward me. "You're proof of it."
I cheers her and lift the window shade to watch the clouds as we pass them by.
We don't speak the rest of the way, not until the pilot informs us to prepare for landing.
It's pleasant, her company, and when it's gone, I re-familiarize myself with being alone. It's what I'm comfortable with, my normal. I've always been a loner, adapting to the crowds around me and getting by. I've found ways to survive and have relied on nothing but myself. I learned at an early age that I was the only person I could count on and that was what kept me alive until Luciano found me. I pledged my life, and loyalty to him, and when he died, that transferred over to his son, Johnny, who is now head of the organization I help run. I'm the one people turn to when he's otherwise occupied, hell, the oneheturns to, his advisor, a consigliere if you want to get technical.
We don't claim to be mafia, but we'd be fools to not recognize how everyone else views us.
Together, we are a group of highly influential people who work under an organized and structured system to use criminal means to get ahead. Not all our dealings are illegal, but the majority of them are, and the legal ones are to provide a smoke screen to hide the illegal shit.
Crime is committed on every level. Extortion, bribery, rackets, gambling, loansharking, weapons trade, fraud, torture, laundering, protection, murder for hire...you name it, we do it.
The only thing completely off-limits is human trafficking and anything involving minors. We might be ruthless criminals, but we have a moral code and we stand by it. If someone within our company is caught trying to dip their toes in anything of the matter, they're executed immediately.
We've had other organizations reach out and want to collaborate with us, but we refuse to deal with them if they don't at least have some line they draw when enough is enough. How can you trust someone if they have zero boundaries?
You can't.
The speaker in the cabin crackles to life. "Welcome to California, sir. Temperature is a comfortable eighty-two degrees. If you'll give me a moment to taxi over to your ride, I'll have you on your way shortly."
I rise from my seat and stretch my arms before latching onto my bag and putting it on the seat. The second I turn on cellular data, countless notifications pop across my screen. They come in too quickly for me to read them, and I pinch my eyes shut for a split second to turn my mind back into work mode. Not that it's ever off long, anyway. Three voicemails ding, and I don't check to see who they're from. I'll have time for that during the car ride from the airport to my hotel.
"I hope you have a great few days in town, sir," Sasha tells me on my way past her.
