Precious was always depicted as a good girl, but that wasn't entirely true - Not by a long shot anyway and her best friend, Natalie knew this.
Her true nature fully developed as soon as she locked eyes with the possessive, Italian Mobster, Ciro Sal...
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2 1/2 Months Later.
Ciro's POV.
I lounged in my chair watching Dima Kozlov as he strutted around my office, pressing his finger over every little object. He slammed the whiskey glass, which was on a table away from my desk, it echoed with a massive bang. He opened the decanter which was filled with an expensive scotch. He poured some for himself, turning his head to offer me a smile. He grabbed his glass, moving back down to sit on the edge of my desk.
He sipped his scotch as he placed it down on the placemat, which I threw at him. His hands flicked away some imaginary dust of his brown, plaid suit. He turned to me, a hand on his thigh as he smiled brightly again.
"You wanted to see me, no?" His thick Russian accent filled the room.
His voice was deep and dark, which added to his sinister vibe. Dima looked at me as he started to fluff up his dark red cape that had dark red animal fur around the collar. A gold chain, adorned with his family's crest dangled in-between the two pieces of the cap, holding it together. It contrasted beautifully to his three-piece tartan suit. Fingers adorned with golden rings drummed against the top of my desk.
"The black market." I leaned back in my chair, throwing my legs up onto the corner of the desk.
"What about my black market?" Dima raised an eyebrow in question, raising the scotch back to his awaiting lips.
"A little rat told me that Dante Moretti is doing business with a few of your henchmen." I replied coolly, tapping my black fingernail against the cold arm rest of my chair.
I saw Dima's forehead crease as fire flamed through his light brown eyes. His black gloved hand weaved through his short blonde hair as he shrugged taking another sip of his scotch. He clicked his tongue.
"We all have rats, Ciro. Some more than others." Dima hinted at the Irish mafia as he chuckled deeply.
"Thank you for bringing it to my attention, I will kill them before sunrise. As well as kill my secretary as she was supposed to notify me if anything changed while I was away on business." Dima's eyes gleamed with pleasure at the thought of killing some of his men.
I opened a draw, located underneath my desk. I pressed my thumb into the print as it detected it was a fingerprint and nobody else's print. It clocked open as I shuffled through the endless black folders of people I wanted dead. I found the black envelope I wanted. I threw it across the desk as it flew across the desk towards Dima's leg.
"Open it." I got up from my seat as I walked over to Rizolo, bending down with a cigarette in my mouth.
He flicked open his lighter as the light flamed my cigarette. I pulled away, inhaling some of the smoke before breathing it out. I smoothed my short, gelled hair back against my palm, (as I needed a haircut, so I did it quickly myself). I flicked the cigarette ash onto the floor as I walked to Dima.
