His Caged Dove -Mafia Romance (BOOK ONE)

Two: Gedeon

Two:

Gedeon

Life was like a game of chess. Each person has a role, a position, and objective. The goal was to win by checkmating the king. Just like life, one important step after the next would lead you to the end goal: winning. Mother taught me how to play before Father helped polish it. As he said, let's see how far you can go before you checkmate someone; or vice versa. So far, that had never happened before. Every game I played, in chess or as the boss of the five Russian families in New York, I always won. At the age of twenty-seven, I don't plan to lose anytime soon.

              It certainly wasn't going to start now.

              "I'm not going to repeat myself," I muttered dangerously low, unphased by the three Italian's men pointing their gun at me. It was ironic just how calm I was at this point about death. If God wanted me dead, He would have killed me long ago. But the motherfucker wanted me alive, for whatever reasoning.

Neither would fire until Mateo Genevese ordered for it, their loyal guards to their leader. In any logical sense, he would be the one in the upper hand. Right now, he was trying to see if he can have a leverage over me and my absurd deal I brought up. "What would it be? I'll give you five seconds before I shot the one on the right, since I'm not a patient man, Genevese."

              I hated saying their names, or anything Italian for that matter. I calmly fixed the tie around my neck. Sometimes I wondered why I even wore it. It wasn't like anyone cared, since they seemed more scared of me then to take in my appearance before I send them straight to Hell.

              Counting to the fifth second, I pulled the trigger without beating an eye. The man on my right falls with a loud thud, and without a sound as well, unlike the first man I shot. A bullet straight to the head with no remorse or a prayer. I sighed, crossing my legs one over the other as I leaned forward to admire the blood that splattered all over the wall like paint.

              After years of training, I thought I would have opted for a clean kill that didn't result in blood splattered everywhere, but I admired it. Especially when I knew the mess that came with cleaning it. An execution was done in memory of my late mother and her love for painting. I stared at the body, the blood seeping wonderfully and staining his carpets.

              The two men that was left now looked at me tensely and then to Mateo, clearly disturbed that their lives were next.

              Mateo grinned widely and swallowed. He placed his hands into his slack's pocket to give the illusion he was unphased and relaxed, but I could see through it. He was anxious, but he wouldn't dare to shoot me. That would make him enemy number one right now, as both families have been in an agreement right now to work things between us for what they had done wrong. "Surely, there has to be something else you would want. I have unlimited girls at my disposal, even one younger than her, if you would like."

              I tsked, clearly not liking how I had to repeat myself. The Italians were never that smart, especially to make me their enemy twenty years ago. Vengeance was the only reason why I was still breathing, and right now I wanted to make Mateo squirm and uncomfortable. His forehead beaded with sweat as I drummed my freehand on the couch. "I want her."

"She's not pure or submissive. Trust me, her spirit isn't broken, and it won't take long for her to anger you."

              My jaw ticked in anger and disgust by how he talked about his own blood. The Italians, especially Mateo, would sacrifice anyone and anything for their own gains. Right now, I was going to do the same with him. I knew he didn't care about his daughter any more than his guard, though he would keep her here under his watchful eye for one thing, and one thing only. I shrugged at his statement finally. "I don't care."