Ten million was neither here nor there for me but I liked to make pretentious assholes squirm. This was the first time I’d allowed him to meet me face to face. Normally, we dealt with his righthand man, Len, who now stood behind his boss the same way Gian, my driver slash bodyguard slash whatever the fuck I wanted him to be, remained at my rear. Where the other man, with his hand on the butt of his gun, was poised and ready for action, Gian was leaning over the balcony rail, enjoying the evening view of Manhattan.
“You know my last two shipments were seized by the DEA, and I’m still trying to weed out the fucker who ratted my operation,” Figo droned, repeating the excuse he’d used over the phone, two days ago. “My hands are tied right now, and you know I can pay. I just need another shipment to bring in the cash I’m owed.” He was right, he was a loyal customer.
That didn’t mean I’d bend to his will. “The steak’s good, sure you don’t want one?” I resumed slicing the meat, brought a piece to my mouth and with my eyes on him, slowly chewed.
Irritation pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t fucking want the steak. I need another shipment. I’m losing the respect of my buyers because I can’t deliver,” he grunted, baring his teeth.
Patience wasn’t my forte, however, fucking with people until they were ready to kill me, brought me a joy like no other.
Rumor had it that the old man, like so many others, only tolerated my brother because he’d ascended Mother’s throne. If he had his way, he’d end our reign. Apparently. Pity he hadn’t encountered me first. He’d be cockless, brainless or probably suffocating to death after I stuffed his head inside his wife’s cunt. But he had federal government connections and like Lorenzo reminded me, we had to keep our enemies closer.
“Once the shipment leaves our warehouse and lands in your backyard, what happens to it has nothing to do with me,” I said after swallowing.
“Don’t you fucking think I know that?” he shouted, clearly ready to put a bullet through my brow and pulling the attention of the other patrons.
Knife hovering mid-slice, I smirked at the bastard. He had yet to grasp the level of my tolerance. Paper thin on most days but fortunately for him, I was enjoying my food and in no hurry to intrude on its quality.
“Usually, I conduct this business at our warehouse, Figo.” I resumed the back-and-forth rhythm of my knife over the tender meat. “Tonight though, I wanted a superior steak and Midnight Garden as you know, is a restaurant you have to book six months in advance because they serve the best damned food in the city.” Good thing I never had to book because the Rossi name was like those black cards the rich brandished without thought and the poor hoped to achieve one day. “And you’re disturbing the other guest’s enjoyment.”
Behind me, Gian sniggered and my lips twitched, the smile not quite there yet. Disrespect and I were bedfellows, we fucked often, when my mood called for it.
“What the fucks wrong with you?” Figo’s fist crashed against the tabletop, the sound resonating across the balcony. “Are you too fucking stupid to understand what I’m saying?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one couple rise and shifted my gaze to watch them walk away, motioning for the maître d’ as they did. When he approached them, they glanced my way. With a subtle nod to me, he escorted them to another table.
Expression blank, my gaze returned to the fuck in front of me as I calmly forked another piece of meat into my mouth, savoring its juicy tenderness.
Practically shaking with anger, he glared at me, trying his utmost to unsettle me. When he got no reaction, he stood and pressing his palms down on the table, he leaned forward, his posture an intended threat. “Do I have to fucking remind you that you’re just the underboss, you’re nothing more than a royal servant and just months ago, I was dealing with the king himself. Lorenzo wouldn’t hesitate to take my call or grant me–”
My fork slammed down hard and fast, the silver tines pinning his hand to the table, quickly followed by the knife, jamming into his other hand. Figo froze, his eyes riveted on the bubble of blood ballooning around the steel.
“What the fuck!” thundered from his lips a second later.
Falling glass pierced the air around us. The occupants of the remaining two tables stood and rushed inside the restaurant, trampling their shattered glassware as they went.
Fists clenched around the cutlery, I slowly stood, the motion pushing all my weight into my weapons of choice, forcing them to tear through ligament and bone.
“Are you fucking insane,” Figo shrieked. Eyes darting between his hands and my face, he yanked back to get out of my grip. Clearly that hurt more, he howled louder.
“Insane?” I cocked my head to one side. “What if I’d stuck this knife and fork in each eye like I really fucking want to and watch you slurp vitreous liquid as it runs down your cheeks. What would that make me?”
Visible shock plastered his ugly as fuck face before rage reddened his skin from the neck up. “You’re going to pay for–”
I pressed harder until spit spluttered out his twisted mouth and he squealed like a goddamn pig.
Len, gun now drawn and aimed at me, hesitated, looking at Figo for direction. “Boss?”
Movements deliberate; I rotated the knife and fork edging them deeper. The tablecloth drank Figo’s blood with relish, turning the white a crimson mess. I raised a brow at Len. “Shoot me,” I goaded, my tone ominous.
Any other time and I would’ve shot both men, no questions asked, but having already killed three in the last three weeks, my short temper could only handle so much whining, Lorenzo insisted I refrain from executing customers that supported our business.
So, here we were, at an impasse I could easily end. “Do it,” I sneered, pushing down on the cutlery and causing Figo to tremble like a fucking pussy.
Eyes flared, the man looked between me and his boss, fear paling his tanned complexion. “Boss?” he squeaked this time.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? Shoot him!” Figo shouted, sweat dimpling his brow, temples and upper lip.
“Don’t be an ass, Len.” Gian stepped toward him. “That’s Remo fucking Rossi. You touch him with so much as a fingertip and you’ll bring war down on this city. Lorenzo will skin you all alive.”
