Salvatore.

Two

"What do you mean the Russians are here?" Giovanni growled, slamming the double doors open. He started to swear under his breath, his father hadn't left New York for more than two weeks and everyone decided they wanted to disrespect Giovanni Salvatore.

"They just kind of.. Walked in?" Stefano answered, trailing behind his older cousin; Marcello in tow.

Giovanni let out a low growl, no one dare enter the 'Salvatore Estate' without an invitation. He was enraged, filled with a burning hatred that couldn't be extinguished; no one disrespected his family name like that, no one, especially not one of his rivals. People knew better than to run head first into the lions den, except for the Russians.

"Fúcking Russians." Giovanni spat, disdain filling every word.

"Why are they here?" Marcello questioned, walking by Giovanni's side down the long elegant hallway.

The Salvatore Mansion was well known among the families, it was notorious for being not only the biggest estate; but for being the grandest, being able to house the whole family and more. Mob wives from other mafias would whisper about its extravagant exterior and talk about how they longed to walk along its halls. They would scowl in jealously if they had heard you had ever been, and the parties The Salvatore family held, now parties at the estate were every once in a blue moon, but when they did happened; you prayed you would be one of the lucky few to receive an invitation.

"I don't know, when Santiago asked them why they were here; they demanded to only speak to Giovanni." Stefano answered, trying to keep up with the two tall men. Stefano's words flew past Giovanni's ears, he was not paying full attention to what the young boy was saying.

Giovanni's eyes narrowed on the doors that led to where the Russians waited, knowing that whatever was going to happen beyond that threshold, was not good. Before the trio walked in, Giovanni looked to his younger cousin and future Consigliere, staring down at them with an empty look in his eyes.

"Go." Giovanni ordered.
Marcello and Stefano just looked at each other, not sure if they should leave.
"Go." Giovanni repeated, with more force this time.
Stefano nodded and took a step back; slowly walking off in the other direction, Marcello reluctantly followed behind. They both knew better than to second guess the orders that Giovanni gave, his word was gospel.

With out a second thought Giovanni pushed open the doors and walked inside with his head  held high, show no weakness.
But it was not like he had any.
Yet his fathers words still rang clear in his head; replaying over and over as if they were a prayer.

Weak men have no place in this life or any other, weakness is pathetic, weakness is death.

The first thing Giovanni saw when he walked in was his trusted friend Santiago, who was sitting on the lounge smoking a cigarette. Santiago's dark brown, poison filled eyes were fixated on the two 'guests' that stood before him, a smug smile across his lips. And then, there were the Russians; Vladimir and Artur.
Vladimir had his hand balled in a fist, face red with anger; while his brother was watching him, making sure he didn't do anything that would cause them to get in an even more deadlier situation.

The three men that were already in the room were having an intense stare down, Giovanni could tell that before he had entered, the men had exchanged a few harsh words. But as he stood there, no one uttered a sound; and the tension in the air was dense.

"Salvatore." Vladimir addressed, his thick accent breaking the silence. As Giovanni's name came past the Russians lips, he did not bother to look Giovanni in the eye, not showing one hint of respect in his greeting; and that pissed Giovanni off. Ignoring the formalities he took a seat next to Santiago, eyeing the pair of intruders up and down.