The Rich Life

43

Ivan Angeloff watched the news with a glass of expensive whiskey in his hand.

"Reports show that Francesca Johnson, former secretary of Adam Dervishi, shot at his wedding reception with an estimated 12 casualties and 6 deaths. People included was hedge funder Meena Patel and actress Zoe Cleves. Stay tuned for-"

His consigliere, Nikolai, switched off the TV, pursing his lips. At six foot two, with pure muscle, even he was afraid of the Boss when he was in one of his moods. His child was just killed. How would you even begin to form the words to show your regret and grief?

"So who," He growled, "Killed her,"

Nikolai gulped, glancing at Valentino, Angeloff's son who was pacing around the study, muttering. After Ivan, he was most afraid of Valentino. Unpredictable and ruthless and the heir to his father's fortune.

"Everyone's saying Zahra Khan," He replied back finally, running his finger over the leather holster of his gun. Made of albino crocodile leather and reserved for the highest-ranking members who served the longest. It soothed his nerves.

"You're going to have to be fucking specific. Zahra Khan as in the heir of the emerald mines of South Africa? Or Zahra Khan, daughter of the president of Afghanistan? Or Zahra-"

"Zahra Khan as in Hassan Khan's daughter," He interrupted, "You know who. We did that arms deal with his brother last month in Pakistan,"

Angeloff's smirk was sharper than a knife point, "You are playing with me, Nikolai. Hassan Khan's daughter does not have the guts to do something like that. Everyone knows that a Khan girl is more protected than the president. Girls are at the bottom of their hierachy,"

"A lot has changed. Their girls are more free now. Ever since-"

"Spare me the details," He snarled, "Are you sure? Because we will not start a blood war with our equals,"

Nikolai was a hundred percent sure. His friend was the chief of security there and Zahra herself had snatched the gun out of his hands and shot those fatal bullets into Francesca Johnson. He nodded, too terrified to speak.

Valentino scowled, "Do we have to start a blood feud? That girl was worthless. She was whoring herself out like a cheap hooker. And the Khan's-"

"I don't give a damn. She was the daughter of Anastasia She was an Angeloff, though illegitimate. Now where is it," Ivan thought for a moment, "London. Get the jet ready for London. The price of blood must be repaid in blood,"

That was it. The boss walked out, his platinum-blonde hair gleaming under the harsh white light, leaving the technicalities to the two men remaining in the room. Valentino swore and punched the walls of his Father's study.

Everyone knows he hates Anastasia Johnson.

He was the precious son of the mob wife. He was Ivan's most valued good. But since the marriage between his parents was arranged to unite two factions of the mafia together and didn't fall in love until much later.

But in between the hate moments of their marriage, the boss took on many mistresses but the most infamous of them all was Anastasia. Hair of pure coppery- gold and eyes darker than the midnight sky, she was beautiful. And ambitious. They say he loved her more than anything in the world.

But things started to get bad.

She wanted too much power, she wanted to be equivalent to the mafia wife, her bastard daughter to be considered a mafia princess over the Kingpin's natural heir. Then his wife intervened. She was the Queen and arranged for their murders. No one steals the position of the most ruthless mob-wife.