Modravé De Costa Lopez is the name haunts the underground world, and the name that is engraved into the illegal system like a tattoo on an idiotic teenager. He runs one of the most powerful Mafia organisations known to man and is so powerful, he cou...
I know I've been gone for a long time, which I deeply apologise for. I also want to thank those who stuck around and are now back on this journey with me ❤️ I will be attempting to finish this book hopefully in the next few months or at least by the end of this year... *fingers crossed*
When I'm finished re-modelling the previous chapters (post-2017 readers won't understand what I mean), then there will be completely new storyline content for the readers who are from 2016 (i know I know I can't believe how long it's been either!)
Love you all, I swear! Also, if you have any questions PLEASE ASK🥀
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CHAPTER TEN
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~12:34pm somewhere in the south of France~
Fingers fluently tapped along the arm of the large leather grandfather chair the man was sat upon. His body fit into the chair like a glove, his body emitting such delectable, vicious power. There was a slight mist throughout the room from the cigar that was laid between his fingers - a musty, yet slight cheddar smell came with it.
The door clicks open but Modravé does not look, remaining deathly still.
"There's someone on the phone who wishes to speak with you".
"Who is it?"
"Your father".
A hand waves the young man over who has a wireless telephone held in his hand and a cover clasped over the speaker that prevented the caller from hearing them speak.
Modravé takes hold of the telephone, but before he speaks he pulls a whisky glass to his lips and takes a sip.
(A/N: I apologise in advance for the poor Portuguese translation, if any of your are Portuguese or know the language fluently, please point out mistakes and I'd be forever grateful 🙇🏽♀️)
"Olá?" (hello?)
"Meu filho, como é bom finalmente ouvir sua voz", his fathers voice dripping with sarcasm as he greets his son. (My son, how great it is to finally hear your voice)
Modravé rolls his eyes, "O que você quer?". (What do you want?)
A chuckle rings out through the telephone, "Você ainda tem tal desrespeito por mim, huh, seu pobre pai velho." (You still have such disrespect for me, huh, your poor old father)
Another eye roll from Modravé follows. His father is a arrogant bastard, I mean, where did you think Modravé got it from? "O que é que você quer?" Modravé repeats. (What is it you want?)
