The Boss

Power Play

He leaned back in his chair, taking a drag of his thick cigar. The smoke billowed around him as he breathed it out. His legs were splayed out, expensive belt buckle gleaming in the dim lighting of the club. His dark eyes held no amusement as he listened to the man next to him babble on like a finch. It was one of his potential business partners. Doing more drinking than talking business, something David Rossi didn't take well to.

"Come on, Shorty, give me somethin'," The man mused, taking a swig of his scotch glass. Some might think the name "Shorty," would be an insult. But no. The name Shorty was feared on the streets, a name spoken quietly or not at all. If Shorty wasn't spoke much, neither was the last name Rossi. Only those who knew Shorty well could mutter his last name and even then it was ill advised.

Rossi tapped his cigar on the ash tray, the ashes falling off. He took another drag, feeling the effects of the expensive tobacco within. He lowered it, not bothering to look at the man next to him, "I don't have time to play petty games, Andrew. Either you take care of your men, or I'll step in for you."

The man beside him, Andrew, gulped, knowing very well what that would entail. "They won't be skimmin' the top no more. I can promise that."

Rossi turned his dark gaze to him, "Really? You want to bet your head over it?" He took another drag of his cigar, blowing it out against Andrew's pale face, "Keep 'em in line or you'll pay the price."

Andrew took a strong sip of scotch, "You got it, Boss." Everyone bowed down before Shorty, business 'partners' or not. He controlled the Italian mafia on these parts and he was known for his keen take on murder.

Rossi waved his hand, his right hand man stepping forward. "Take him out, Gio." Giovanni, a brute of a man, gripped Andrew's shoulder tightly.

"Let's go." Andrew didn't resist, knowing the meeting was over. All he could be happy for is that Shorty didn't take an arm or leg. But it was coming if he didn't get his gang together. Rossi barely batted an eye as Giovanni shoved Andrew out.

He took another deep drag of his cigar, watching his club with hawk eyes. He owned the whole thing, the dancers, the bartenders, even the people inside- everything. Giovanni came back, standing at his boss' side.

He leaned down to speak quietly, "There's been talk, Boss. Lucius is calling a meeting, he wants you there. It could be a hit."

Rossi licked his lips, tapping his cigar on the ashtray again, "And?" Shorty rarely cared about hits, even if they were on him. Anyone who dared ended up in a back alley without a face.

"He has a business offer. Good money, he needs protection. Good protection you can provide." Giovanni replied.

Rossi raised a brow, taking interest in this. He always had an eye for nice things. Money bought those things. "When?"

"Tomorrow night."

Rossi hummed, puffing on his cigar, "Send word I'll be there."

"Yes, Boss." Giovanni answered, stepping away to tell their messenger to send news to Lucius. Rossi trusted Giovanni with his life. He grew up with the man and always knew he'd be by his side when he finally took over his family's business.

Rossi smiled to himself, a dark grin, as he thought about the money involved tomorrow night. Sure, he had more than enough. But a chance to rip a few faces, break a few bones? He liked that. And he knew his men would too.

He had a whore pour him a drink, forcing her to sit on his lap as he drank. She was pretty enough to fuck, but too dumb to even fathom talking to. But he didn't want to talk anyway.