Blade

Chapter 66 - The line of loyalty

B L A D E

Aran catches my eye across the room where he's seated at the poker table. He whispers some incoherent words into the Blonde girl's ear, that's straddling his lap, and approaches me.

I cringe internally and take a sip of my coke, emptying the content in the bottle completely to calm the anger that's starting to build up inside of me.

That's how I feel when I set my eyes on Aran or any motherfucker for that matter. They annoy me to the core.

"Blade." He says and plops down on the leather couch next to me.

"Aran." I grunt out.

Silence falls between us. The urge to smoke a cigar is becoming more and difficult to ignore. I just hope that Sienna returns soon so we can get the hell out of here.

"Didn't expect that you would come, Armani. What changed?" Aran questions with his signature cruel smirk, his black soulless eyes focused on me, anticipating my answer. As usual, his expression holds nothing more than mischievousness and wickedness.

He always got something up his sleeve.

I let out a frustrated breath and try to choose my words carefully, not wanting to say anything that would anger the Mafia Don. Italy and the whole of Asia going into war is bound to end in destruction. Thousands of blood will be shed. Life's lost. Can't risk it.

"You should have expected better, old man. Poker ain't my thing anymore." I tell him and his jaw locks tightly, eyes ablaze with fury. I tried. He's like a ticking bomb. One wrong word could cause an entire explosion.

He smokes his pipe and exhales a cloud of smoke that lingers a little bit before it vanishes. "Always with the jokes, Armani. Never afraid to say shit. You're just like your father in so many ways, it's almost repulsive."

I grind my teeth in anger and grip my knee tightly to avoid punching the man in the face. "Don't ever compare me to that fucking piece of shit, Aran. You know very well how much I despise him. I don't give a rat's ass about your position or status. Say that shit to me again and I'm gonna punch you in the goddamn face."

Aran's anger evaporates and is now replaced with amusement. "Easy, Armani. Don't start something that you can't finish. You know, you're like a son that never fails to make me proud unlike the bastards that I disowned."

My stomach churns at the word son.

I can't imagine this man to be my father. He's a lot worse than the father I had.

"I know I should he flattered and all that shit but you're making me wanna curse at God for creating me. I'd rather have the devil or a dead man to be my father than you of all people." A smirk crosses my lips when his face reddens in anger.

"The line of loyalty between our two empire is getting blurry by the minute, Armani. Watch the way you fucking speak to me, kid. I don't tolerate this kind of behavior from anyone." Aran growls, hands tightening around the pipe that it crushes under his hold. He snaps his fingers and a waitress runs over to us with a tray, containing a bottle of whiskey and another pipe.

"I'm so terrified, Aran." I mock and play with the rim of the empty bottle of coke with my index finger.

Fire burns in his eyes as he glares at me and this time, I don't say anything to anger him more. "Don't push me, Armani."

He whispers in a deadly tone and stands up from the couch, flashing me one last glare, he makes his way towards the poker table.

Fucking bastard.