HERMANN RODRIGUEZ POV.
100… 101… 102…
"You busy?" Miguel’s voice sliced through my concentration. "Really? You blind?" I snapped, my tone cold. This was the second time he'd interrupted my workout.
"Come on, it won't take long. Sorry," he said, already knowing he was pushing his luck.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked, my irritation palpable.
"The girl…" he began, but I cut him off.
"Hell no! She's mine," I growled, my voice laced with a possessiveness that surprised even me. I wasn't usually possessive, but Ivy was different. She was mine, and mine alone, for the entire week.
"Okay, jeez, why so grumpy this early?" His surprise was evident. I ignored him, resuming my push-ups, the interruption a frustrating setback.
"Hermann," he called, trying to regain my attention.
"Just fuck off," I growled, my focus unwavering.
"Alright," he mumbled, and I heard his retreating footsteps, a wave of relief washing over me.
1… 2… 3…
"Hermann."
"What now?!" I yelled, my patience finally snapping.
Norman, unfazed by my outburst, approached. "Godfather's on the phone."
"Sebastian," I muttered, snatching the phone.
"Hermann, my boy! How are you?" Sebastian's voice was dripping with false cheer. "It's been ages!"
"What do you want?" I cut through his pleasantries. This call was more than a friendly chat.
"Is that how you speak to your Nonno after all this time?" His feigned hurt was unconvincing.
"I haven't got time for games. Spit it out," I said, my voice hard.
"Come home. We need to discuss… the Italian Mafia." His tone shifted, the playful facade gone, replaced by a chilling seriousness. This was the Sebastian I knew, the ruthless Godfather.
"Sì," I agreed, my response curt. I had things to do, and arguing with Sebastian and his perpetually hapless son was low on my priority list.
"See you domani," he said, his voice laced with both authority and a hint of something else… anticipation.
"Tomorrow?" I questioned, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. What did he want?
"Objection?" His voice turned cold, the threat implicit.
"No," I whispered, knowing I had no choice. Until the Italian Mafia was mine, I danced to his tune.
"Good," he said, ending the call.
"Italy tomorrow, then," Norman said, offering me a towel.
"Yeah," I grunted, taking it.
"She's the same girl from the other night," Norman observed, following me. "Is she… that good?"
"It doesn't matter," I snapped, my tone dismissive.
"It does, and you know it," he said, blocking my path. "This is the underworld, Hermann. Simple attachments can become bloody weaknesses."
"You think she's my weakness?" I scoffed.
"That's for you to decide," he said, his eyes serious. "But don't let our enemies find a way to you through her."
YOU ARE READING
His Entertainer
No FicciónEighteen-year-old Ivy Silver's life took a dark turn when the glittering facade of a famous strip club concealed a future she never envisioned. Trapped, she desperately sought freedom, only to fall into the clutches of Hermann Rodriguez, an arrogan...
