Mafia King

Chapter 1

Nathaniel POV

As long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a gangster.

When I thought of gangsters I envisioned wealth, power, and control. You were your own master and you could do anything you wanted. There was no worrying about tomorrow, because today you had it all. From the moment I was born, I knew I wanted it all.

The raining is pouring as my feet stomp the ground. Faster! I tell myself. I decide to run a few extra miles today. I'm feeling rather adventurous, going outside of my normal routine. I make it all the way to Chelsea piers from my penthouse in 59 Park. My usual morning run is never this far. Yet every day, I must push myself more and more.

As I run towards the pier, I catch a glimpse of a young woman with her back to me, as she stares into the Hudson River. Her brown hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, it's so silky from my view that I just want to go up to her and touch it. What the hell is wrong with me? Since when do I want to go and touch strange women? I shake my head and turn back to run home. Pushing myself as my lungs burn with fire. I turn back slightly to see if I can catch a glimpse of the woman's face but the time I turn she's no longer there.

After returning to my penthouse on the 30th floor, Taylor, my butler waits for me in the front of the elevator with a towel in his hand.

"Sir," he says handing me the towel

I nod my head and walk towards my ensuite. I dispose of my sweaty clothing, throwing them inside of the laundry basket.

I begin my shower and let the hot water run down the sore muscles in my back as my palm pressed against the tiled walls. I really pushed myself today; more than I thought I was capable of. But as I close my eyes all I think about is that mysterious woman.

Who is she? Why was she there so early in the morning?

I'm over analyzing a girl. She's just a girl...I shake my head to rid any thoughts of her.

After my shower, I securely wrap a towel around my waist and stride towards my vanity. The fog on the bathroom mirror clouds my reflection. I take my palm and swipe it across the mirror.

I slowly move the razor over my skin as the foam, slowly leaves my face. It's been a few days since I have shaved and the hairs on my face have begun to bother me. I stare straight into the mirror and look at my gray eyes.

These are the eyes of a killer.

I hear my cell phone ring, I quickly grab the wet towel from my bathroom vanity and remove the reminisce of the foam as I stride towards my bedroom. My bedroom is large and simple with a king-sized bed in the middle and one nightstand to the left of it. The plane, cold room, comforts me.

I pick up my cell phone from the nightstand. James, my partner is calling. It's only 8 am, what the hell does he want?

"James" I answer harshly. I'm really not interested in being bothered this early in the morning. This must be important. "Is everything alright?"

"Have you heard, it's sunny in Seattle today." He says with an edge to his voice.

It's urgent. We use phrases to tell us the type of problem without disclosing the real reason behind the call... You never know, who might be listening.

"I'm on my way." I abruptly end the call.

I walk into my large walk-in closet looking at the rows of expensive suits and shoes. I grab my favorite and quickly change into one of my black pristine Tom Ford suits.

I leave my apartment with my keys in my hand and my Raybans on.

As I walk towards my car, I look at the rows of my other cars in the garage and I get into the passenger side of my black Audi R8.

The roads are clear as I drive through the I-95 from New York City to New Jersey. It's early in the morning and people are just getting up making it a prime time to receive a shipment. No one notices since no one is looking.

I approach my destination - Port Newark. I know exactly where James is, on Tuesdays; it is always section C7 of the yard. We always rotate every shipment location according to the day of the week.

The shipping yard seems like an average old shipping yard, filled with dust and unapproachable. It's the perfect hiding place. However, there is nothing average about this one. The port facility consisting of multiple loading cranes and shipping containers. The coppers, blues, and white containers all stacked on top of each other, overlooking the Hudson River to downtown New York City.

I run my own Cartel. By the time I was 25 I had more money than I count. Being in New York City was the perfect location for me to be. Money is so popular on this small island, that the 28-year-old billionaire next to you is no surprise to the common bystander.

I'm not your average drug dealer. I have more sophistication than to sell on some street corner. No, I wear an expensive suit. No one doubts a man in an expensive suit. I treat my business as a Fortune 500 company.

I park my car in front of the beat down gate.

As I arrive James is standing in front of a white freight container with four other men who work for me.

"James." I acknowledge him. "Why is it urgent for me to come here?"

A/N: If you liked the chapter please: 

Vote

Share

Follow the story and me. 

Comment: What did you think of this chapter? And what do you want to happen next? 

The more votes I get the faster I will update!