A love like ours ✔️

♚2.Drug lords, vors and clubs

Rafael

As I sit into my chair in the home office, my right hand, Dante, enters the room.

"Don, we have a problem." he says. The fucker never knocks before entering, even if I told him to do so at least a thousand times. I finally gave up on it. Little siblings are annoying little shits, but at least he does his job well. Nevermind that he acts like a complete dimwit the rest of the time.

"What is it now?" I sight exasperatly, playing with the gold bracelet clasped around my left wrist.

I've just came back from the warehouse, where I made the little Colombian spy sing like a canary. The man joined our ranks 2 months ago, working as a small streed dealer. He thought he escaped undetected, that his cover up story is flawles, but in fact he was playing his part as my pawn, feeding false intel to Luis Navarro, the head of Colombia's biggest drug dealing organisation, and my rival when it comes to the European market. While I enjoyed torturing the anwers out of him, running in circles while fishing for it has thinned my patience. I can already feel my anger bubling up.

I raise from my seat, and head towards the home gym. I need to let some steam out.

Dante's following me:

"Cortéz is stirring trouble again. My men have informed me of one of his Capos having a secret meeting with Andrei Sokolov, Pakhan Volkov's nephew and one of his Vors, tonight at the Devil's Lair." he tells me.

We reach the gym. I take my shirt and shoes off. Heading for the boxing bag, I wrap up my hands.

The Brazilian Cartel and Russian Bratva coming together on Morelli's territory... is Damiano aware of what's cooking right under his nose? I need my alliance with the Russians to stay intact, thus I can't let the Vor be influenced by the Brazilian pricks. Looks like I'm gonna have to sway him on my side, and the best way of doing that is going to meet him in person.

Dante is holding the bag while I throw the first punches.

NYC is divided between the main crime organisations in America. As the Don Northern Italian-American Mafia I ruling the states that border Canada, from Washington up to Ohio. Besides those, I own the Bronx and the Northern Queens. Damiano Morelli rules the East Coast, the Southern Queens and Brooklyn. The Greeks, the Rokotis, and the Japanese, the Tanakas, share the Staten Island. As for Manhattan, that's neutral territory where all of us and Volkov's Bratva have set the HQ's of our legal cover up businesses.

"Looks like we're going out tonight, fratello. (brother)" I say over the sounds of my fists hitting leather.

"My oh my, how long has it been since we've last gone clubbing? Two years or so? I begged you to come with me and now you offer to be there?" Dante mocks, just so he can take a small step back for balance, as I punch harder.

Droplets of sweat are begining to form on my temples.

"It's work, not entertainment that we're talking about", I haven't gone out for the night ever since I took over my father's Don position. The mafia does not lead itself and while I have my fair share of fun, I can't afford being caught with my guard down, drunk while outside the house.

"You're no fun at all."

"I'm not trying to be."

"Probably that's why I'm your only friend, but I don't think it counts since, you know, I'm your brother and thus I'm kind of forced to put up with you."

"I don't need friends." He knows I don't like people.

"Right, Rafael Russo, the eternal antisocial... It's a pity you have to come in constant contact with people given your ocupation and the facade you're trying to mantain."