I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

26 (NEW)

Nighttime falls. I pace stone, white marble floors of a foyer, listening to a fountain in the center of the lobby. The structure streams out water; above it, a dim chandelier hangs. A three-tier staircase runs upstairs, where my wife and daughter are. They knew to stay put when I had company on the way, especially this kind.

My most prominent clients are mafia Dons, who could negotiate anything with threats, and use anything to paint me as weak. I've learned to hide my reactions when meetings take place with this bunch. I pace in shiny loafers, dress pants, and a loose button-up, which are all non-flashy. I can't look too rich in front of the Dons....even if I am a billionaire, this pisses them off. I don't want a broken nose or humiliation.

My cell vibrates in my pocket; in a flash, I pull it out and answer. "Go."

"We lost him...sorry boss, we wanted to give you better news than this, but we're chasing air."

"You let a dumbass get the best of you?!!" My voice growls in an echo around the foyer.

There's a moment of silence before an answer comes. "I'm afraid so, sir. Do you want us to keep to Texas. The team and I will make up for this."

"Yes, he has family there, keep going. At my say so, you know what to do." I hang up and stomp harder as I pace. This asshole needs to die soon. Ryan placed a hold on the card, but this guy took loose change out somehow. I think back to the arrogant phone call, the fucker on the phone...his damn disrespect...as if he owned the money. This empire took a decade to build, I spilled blood, and this moocher thinks he can just take it from me! I will kill him!

The front double doors open, letting bitter air wipe across the room. A security guard enters. "Hey boss, the Dons have arrived."

"Start loading the product."

"Copy." The guard leaves, closing the doors.

I turn to look out a window, where lights shine from headlights of three cars. I go to peer out the window, spotting a Bentley, Porsche, and a Bugatti. Each vehicle steers down a long driveway; all are pure gold, all shimmering under moonlight. I watch security guards roll large cargo crates of white bricks, cocaine, from three trucks. Hopefully, the free product will soothe the Dons dissatisfaction...hopefully.

Here we go. I fix my shirt and leave the foyer, my destination, the conference room. An extremely long room with a fifty-foot table and fur chairs. I take a seat at the head of the table, using a remote to control the light settings. I need to hide my fear; this is going to be intense. I dim the lights, clearing my face to a blank space.

Just then, footsteps head towards the door, which a security guard opens. Three Dons, in expensive suits with entitled demeanors, step in. A muscle crew of twelve march after them. The Dons look down at me with shrewdness.

"Are you waiting for a dinner partner?" Don Xavier, a heavyset bald guy, says in a thick Italian accent. The others laugh.

Don Weston glides his fingers over the table and examines his tips. His crater-like, scarred face catching the dim light. "So romantic." He takes out a handkerchief from a top pocket of his suit, cleaning his hands, wiping the surface of the table and chair, before sitting.

"Hello gentlemen, please have a seat." The other Dons sit; the goons stay standing, viewing artwork that hang on the walls, becoming touchy with decorative items. I throw a hard look their way, knowing my face is hidden in the dimness. I can get away with this glare. "I will need all of your attention before I begin addressing the delay."

Don Xavier whistles loudly. "Come!" He shouts aggressively, then leans back in his chair. The guards join us at the table. "When you say delay...I think you mean bad business."

"I'm aware of what I meant; I will explain the situation."

Don Weston ticks his tongue. "We don't need explanations; you owe us product. We have all paid for your service. You should be on your knees thanking us for our invitation into the billionaire club." He gives me a chilling smile. "Something you're not ready for, Nemo." The snickers from the guests crawl under my skin.

"There was a financial breach; it is now under control. Right now, free product is being loaded for you as compensation. Excuse the inconvenience." I inform calmly. "A crisis averted our dealings."

Don Siciliano, another Italian, a tall, skinny grease ball, bursts with uncontrollable laughter. "A crisis? I think you mean embarrassment." His face goes to stone quicker than I can blink. "We have customers, elites, politicians, businessmen, who were unhappy about this circumstance. You are causing our work ethic to weaken. Could you not have given the shipment as you always done once we've paid?"

"He is high and mighty now; his head will kill his shoulders!" Don Weston exclaims, standing and fixing his suit. "This could have been a phone call....you've wasted our time. Again."

I stand. "Thank you for your time." Don Xavier side eyes a big guy at the table, with a look that held meaning I couldn't understand. "Shall we?" I gesture to the door, my expression blank and non threatening . The big guy that Xavier sent a subliminal message to, stands, then swiftly throws a knife my shoulder. It jams in, crunching, I groan in pain, stumbling back into the chair and placing my hand on it. Fright cripples my soul.

"Now that was worth the trip." Don Weston laughs coldly.

Don Siciliano, gets up and approaches me to press down on the knife. I fight to control my wails of pain, but it's no use. I feel the metal scraping my bones...my tissue and muscles. The Don wiggles the blade. My hand pounds at the table as blood gushes from the wound. He wipes some of the blood trailing down my suit's arm with his fingertips. Siciliano extends the fingers out to Don Weston, who takes out his handkerchief. Siciliano smears my blood on the cloth, all while burning a deadly stare into my eyes. Not blinking at all.

"Remember where your leash ends." Don Xavier taunts, then waves to the tough crew to exit the room. I watch the cloth with my blood on it, as it gets stuff back into a pocket. My teeth clench together. Shit...FUCK?!! The room empties, first the Dons, then the guards. Don Weston winks at me, grinning like a devil, then closes the doors.