Omicidio

Chapter 3

This Chapter and only this chapter was inspired by a chapter in another book - just to let you know. So don't accuse me of stealing anything. <3
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I banged on the door frantically making sure who ever was in there could hear me clearly. I want answers and I want them now. My fist hit the glazed over wood harder and harder as I became more and more agitated. Suddenly the door flew open.

Dark eyes stared down at me viciously. I'd never seen such vile eyes a day in my life. The darkness seemed to get even darker as anger made its way through his body.

His hair appeared disheveled and light dark circles rounded his eyes. The vein in his neck popped out a bit and his hands squeezed the door frame tightly. He looked stressed and angry but I didn't care how stressed and angry he looked because i'm the one who should be stressed and angry at the moment. "Non mai battere alla mia porta così guadagno." He yelled. From the italian he spoke the only words I could catch was 'don't bang the door'.

"Why am I here?" I harshly spoke. "Tell me why the hell i'm here!"

He took his arms from the door and sighed, turning around. I followed him in his office. His office was about the size of the bedroom I was put in. The rug looked like something Michelangelo would have created. His desk sat near the wall with a brown leather chair in front of some shelves. Other shelves were places around the room holding what seemed like every book known to man. A few comfortable looking business chairs lay facing his desk where the lamp seemed to be the only light at the moment. A few couches were placed around a coffee table. There were a few rooms off to the side which I assumed were the bathroom and something more private.

"Noah, please sit." He motioned towards a chair.

I shook my head. "How do you know my name?" He took a seat on the edge of his desk letting one leg dangle off the edge. "I know all my employees by name?" he grinned.

"I don't work for you."

He stood from his desk only to pick up a folder. He opened it and handed it to me. "Noah Anastasia Shakur... I understand you are the daughter of Amelia Benitez, " I nodded. The papers he gave me were some sort of bills in the name of my mother. "And from what I understand your mother is deceased." I tilted my head to him.

"What are you getting at?"

"She owes $40,000, but since she is gone you are the only one that I can receive the payment from." I shook my head. These were bills my crack head of a mother spent on drugs. "That's crazy. I don't even have the same last name as her-"

"But you're still her daughter by blood."

"These bills are from years ago... I was only eight when she borrowed this from you. Why do you need the money now?" Vitaly took the folder from me. "Because... someone owes me money," He glared at me in all seriousness, "and I expect to get it one way or another."

"Or what?" I pressed.

He smirked. "I.. will make.. you suffer." He didn't give me detail but by the way he said it - by the look in his eyes I knew he was serious. I swallowed dryly but never broke my barrier. I would never show him fear.

"Are you kidding me? She was the crackhead not me!" I raised my voice a bit.

He slapped the folder on his desk. "Don't raise your voice at me." He said sternly. "Sorry." I murmured. "But-"

"Regardless, someone still owes me $40,000." I sighed. "Fine, if you'll let me go home then I'll just write you a check." He shook his head. "No." I raised my eyebrows. What is wrong with this guy? "No?" I questioned.