Tom Holland & Peter Parker Imagines & Preferences (book 2)

God of London - intro (series)

Summary: The reader is the most dangerous mobster in London. Every week she's given a new person to kill. One night, she gets a card with the name 'Tom Holland' printed on it. 

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The heels of her ankle boots clicked against the pavement of the backstreet which led her to the oh-so-familiar nightclub she usually goes to. Tucking a stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear, she approached the doors of the nightclub and the bouncer immediately let her in, already knowing who she is.

The club was lively like usual. Strippers danced on the poles at each table, men smoked their cigars and people drunk from their glasses. Nothing new.

"Miss Romano, what can I get you today?" The bartender, Lewis, asked her.

"A tequila sunrise margarita, please." Her thick, British accent barely noticeable.

"You've always got to be so extra about your drinks." He raises a brow, chuckling. She smiled back at him as she tapped her dark red acrylics on the sticky counter. A few moments later, a round-edged glass was slid in front of her as well as a small card under the glass. She nodded a thank you, took a sip from the rim of the glass, and flipped the card over.

Thomas Holland

Licking her already wet lips, she flipped it back over and looked at Lewis. "Thomas Holland? I think I've heard of him before."

"Yeah, I've heard that he's one of the most dangerous mobsters in London."

Scoffing, she took another sip of the drink. "Yeah, right after me."

"Of course." His Brooklyn accent was apparent since it was much thicker. "You have a meeting upstairs in the VIP lounge in five minutes. Table four, like usual."

"Christ." She groaned, reaching into her pocket to get a five-pound note. She checked the time on her phone before tucking it away again. 21:30 "Alright, I'll catch you later. Try not to do anything stupid while I'm gone."

The lounge was quiet and dimly lit, opposite to downstairs which had loud music and bright lights. Upstairs, there were no strippers since important business is usually discussed. She took a seat at table four and crossed her legs, tapping her nails again.

"Miss Romano, would you like a drink?" One of the waitresses asked her.

"Whiskey would be great, thanks." She flashed her teeth as she smiled and the waitress nodded before disappearing to make her the requested order. 21:34. If they arrive a minute after thirty-five past, she would have their heads. Sucking on her bottom lip, she watched the waitress arrive with the glass on a black tray.

"Here you go. Is there anything else you need?" Yeah, for these fucking people to turn up so she can leave.

"No, no. That'll do thank you." The waitress nodded and walked away, leaving her alone again. 21:35.

"Y/N Romano?" Y/N looked up and smiled slightly as she looked up. One man held a black briefcase in his right hand.

"That'll be me." She gestured to the other spaces in the booth. "Please, take a seat." Sipping her whiskey, she glanced at each man who seemed to be dressed similarly to each other. "So, introduce yourselves then.."

"My name is Alex Grainger." He seemed to be the boss out of the three of them. "He's Antonio." Alex pointed to the man sat to the right of him. "And this is Daniel."

"Nice to meet you all. So tell me boys, how can I help?" She leaned forward on her elbows.

"We will give you thirty thousand Great British pounds if you assassinate this man." Antonio pulled out a picture of a man from his brown jacket pocket. Leaning back on her chair, she nibbled on her middle finger acrylic nail, cautious not to break it or chip it.