𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

45 || Footsie

Alessio Galanti was as honourable as one could get in his type of business. He upheld the same values his father and his business partners wanted for their mafia. While she'd fought for a seat at the table, proved herself to belong, yet was still denied one.

I squeeze her thigh, she brushes off my touch and stands, dragging her chair farther away from me, "I don't want a seat at your table." She drops her chair with a bang, positioning herself to the corner of the room, where no one sits but her, smiling at Alessio Galanti, "I want to watch it burn to the fucking ground. And my husband is gonna help me." She finally turns to look at me, "Isn't that right, Addie baby?"

I stare at her, in that little red dress, every angle of her face contoured in devious delight, while her eyes briefly hold mine, waiting.

They all watch me. Nico looks half interested, Alessio looks livid. He's got his finger on the trigger of insanity, and all that's holding him back is the semblance of peace I want.

The peace he thinks I want.

Unfortunate for him, I've developed an obsessive desire to give her what she wants.

And if she wanted to watch them burn. I'd light the match and drag it out just for her entertainment.

My food arrives, I set the napkin across my lap and focus on cutting up my steak as they all wait for my input."My wife can be very persuasive."

He stares at me a long moment, before deciding he's made up his mind, "Giana, Principessa," he turns to her, and speaks in a tone no made man would be caught dead speaking in, "Go wait for me in the car."

"No way." She scoffs, "Iwant to listen to what else she has to say..." I don't care enough to pay attention to the rest of their hushed bickering. But I do watch them. Mildly fascinated, how a man who held so much power, concealed so little. It did nothing but prove what I already inferred of him. He'd been raised into power, and ignorant to the authentic cruelty those who earned it experienced.

It made things easier, but not as easy as the other obstacle in my way.

Rosso.

He was damn near in retirement with how little effort he put into his empire. If I wanted to go to war, he wouldn't step in out of pure laziness and disinterest.

Eventually when Alessio gets the blue eyed woman to leave, albeit angrily, Rosso turns to the brown eyed woman at his side.  "You're not gonna let your friend sit outside alone, are you, Bambi?"

She looks between us all, conflicted. "I know what you're doing, Nico."

He cracks a smile, and the only other person mildly disgusted by it happens to be sitting mere feet from me in nothing but a little red dress. "And it's gonna work isn't it?"

Seeming to know better, our eyes connect, she grows uncomfortable and shifts her gaze to my far left, the discomfort still there, yet sweetness fuels her words "Text me and let me know you get home alright, Lina."

With a smile so bright her teeth peek out beneath her red painted lips, my wife waves her off, while her gaze flickers between the two men who most definitely don't want her getting home alright, "Will do."

It isn't less than a second after the doors closed that someone speaks "Why don't you save us the headache and butt the fuck out of where you're not wanted." The man speaks with a rough edge, while he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette lighting it.

"Why don't you go jump off that building you so cleverly named after yourself." She's instant and effortless in her retort.

I sense he's had enough of her when men filter into the room. One by one, none of them on my payroll and finally speak up. "I go where my wife goes." I glance down at my food. "If she leaves, I leave."