BOOK 1
Leonadas, The Don of the Italian Mafia, he was taught to be emotionless, cold, and to protect what was his. Whether it was his mafia or his family. It was his to protect. But what happens when a certain person comes and messes with his routi...
Pointing a fucking gun at me. Is he serious? Is this dumb to be mad over it? Probably. Am I still gonna be mad over it? Yes, yes I am.
Embarrassing, is what it was. I went in there to help. Maybe even gain a little respect. Show I'm not some chick who acts like she knows what she's doing but when the time comes she's running around with her head cut off.
I've seen the way Leo's men watch me. They criticized me. They wonder 'who the fuck is this girl and why does she think she can boss us around'.
It pisses me off but I would've done the same. Trust is earned. Respect is earned. I have their fear. Not trust nor respect.
I'm getting a tattoo. I need a break just for a second. I have a friend, Davy. He has done all of my tattoos for me. He tries to not make me pay but I always manage to put my money into his tip jar.
He's a muscular guy, short but taller than me, bald with tattoos everywhere, he has bicolor eyes, one is green and the other is brown.
"How's it been?" He asks as he keeps majority of his focus on tattooing my left forearm. My left arm has no ink on it, I just haven't gotten around to it so this is the first tattoo on this arm.
"Good, you?" I mumble. I'm in the chair with my eyes close, feeling the needles pierce through my skin. I let it take my thoughts away for now.
"Same, Annie misses you." Annie is his wife. They've been married for 15 years, young marriage and all.
"I miss her and her cooking." I say as he chuckles.
He wipes the access ink off before handing me a mirror to look. "It's a masterpiece, once again." I say with a small smile.
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"I appreciate this, I'll see you later." I tell him as he cleans his station. I shove 900 in his tip jar before walking out and into my car. I drive to my building.
I head straight to my office. I'm not planning on doing shit. I have a perfectly, comfortable couch in my office to sleep on.
Once I'm in, I kick of my heels, cursing at my height. My pants still drag on the floor even with the heels but now I'm just stepping on them.
I huff before throwing myself onto my couch. I look around my office. I'm not sure what I'm trying to accomplish. I know I want him dead. I'm willing to give up everything besides one thing and that one thing is and will continue to be untouchable.
I already printed out the list and put it on top of his desk. I'm sure he'll find it.
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