"I'm not a Businessman, I'm a Business, man. Let me handle my business, damn" - JAY Z
I'm not a man that expected to be questioned. I had worked hard over the years to reduce the number of people I answered to a group under five members. Yet my consigliere Guido, who was not a member of said group, sat opposite me, preparing to open his sizeable mouth to do just that.
"Are you sure you want to pull back all of your investments like this Leo? I understand we've taken a loss with the merger, but I think moving so hastily will create uncertainty in the market, y'know. Might make people lose trust in the business?"
His accent is was what you would expect from a 3rd generation Italian-American man residing on the east coast. His vowel emphasis, contraction of the words "you" and "know" and the way he stressed the every fourth word, might have transported you to a time where the men in my line of work wore oversize, three-piece, pinstripe suits with a matching hat. It's a way of speaking that was dying out. My generation didn't speak with that accent, at least not a version this heavy.
Similar to the accent, the old ways of conducting business were firmly outdated. A lot of the guys who paved the way never got to see the fruits of their labour because once they found a thing that worked, they didn't change much. They weren't lifelong students of their craft, accepting the title of master too soon. Instead of diversifying their portfolios, spreading their roots shallow and far reaching from the tree trunk, they dug deep in one spot. And when the inevitable storm came, the tree fell immediately, and all of their misgivings where exposed simultaneously. A lot of guys said Rudy Giuliani and his introduction of the RICO bill is what killed our business. I begged to differ. I worked under one of the guys that survived it and from what I've seen of his work, the crackdown is what finally drove innovation. Gone were the days that security or even the wives' of these guys were having to start the car of the Capo to avoid the him getting blown to smithereens. My phone could now tell me if there were any bugs in the room I was occupying, meaning coded language was no longer a necessity. Cops were getting duller and greedier so the only heat was really coming from a federal level. That threat was one that was easy to manage, especially when some firm handshakes had been made with the people at the top of that particular organisation.
Cosa Nostra; Our Thing.
Our thing it was indeed. There wasn't much the sun touched that wasn't ours. I took a quick glance at the signet ring on the first digit on my left hand, decorated with a simple emblem denoting my position within this organisation. I'm the outsider, the result of a son of a made man and a black woman's love affair. I wasn't supposed to be here, it wasn't what anyone, including my parents wanted. My dad had grown up in the mix of it all, and never crossed the threshold of associate during his lifetime. He stayed close to the organisation though, because, although it was not a monarchy, it was a family business after all.
My mom was an unknowing participant of an adulterous relationship until it was too late. She didn't even live on the east coast at the time they first met, courted and fell in love, which I suppose lent itself to my dad's motives. His marriage of convenience to my step-mother, the heir of an ally syndicate was never where he truly wanted to be. It didn't help that the woman was only ever able to bare him one son, whereas my mom, the "love of his life" gave him three in as many years.
Thinking of my late father brought me back to what it was that caused Guido to speak out of turn in the first place. The old man was assigned to balance me out, making sure that my approach wasn't too hedonistic which was almost always the case with men within my age range. Still wet behind the ears and "shittin' yella'" if you let my dear mother tell it. I knew better, and although I had nothing but respect for him, I couldn't help but grow irritated by his cross-examination of my actions.
"To be clear, I'm not pulling all of my loans back, I'm simply reminding those with the longest leaches that they are, in fact, still on a leach. I also have no interest in maintaining the landscape of a market I don't wish to be in."
I was simply tidying up my late fathers affairs. With his unexpected passing and my even more unexpected ascension to Capo Regime, I had inherited some long standing loans my dad had been collecting on for years. He was somewhat of a Robin Hood, and let a few select people get away with playing in his face. Marriage and kids had softened an already shaky resolve and commitment to the family and he wasn't hurting for the cash so why stress?
I wasn't hurting for it either, but I was much more of an asshole than my dad ever dreamt of being. I wasn't standing for it, and I certainly wasn't going to let people rejoice over my dad's passing by stopping the minuscule payments they were barely making.
Loan sharking wasn't really my thing. I was more ambitious than that. I had been primed to hit the ground running. My father's influence was the only thing that stopped me from being made sooner. He wouldn't prevented the decision to have me ride up in the ranks fiercely. Without his input, the decision was otherwise unilateral, in my favour. He stated that it was something I would understand when I had my own kids. I loved and respected my dad too much to force the issue so I had resigned myself to following in his footsteps as an associate. After his untimely passing, I paid my respects by observing the correct period of mourning, before I initiated the process of getting inducted into the position I held currently.
Sitting in my office alongside my consigliere, was my younger brother Vincenzo, who silently observed the short exchange. He may have been making busy, typing away on his phone, but I was confident he was listening intently.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm expecting someone to arrive at any minute."
Guido stood up, taking a second to button his suit jacket. Age had softened his form, but you could tell his days as an enforcer were long and ruthless. What he lacked in height at 5'9" he made up for in brawn. My brother decided to play dumb and remained seated. A quick clearing of my throat gave him the impetus to also take his leave.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do Cap" he said, punctuating his verbal salute with a quick one finger one. He quickly left the room before I could threaten serious bodily harm.
Siblings. Genetic pain in the ass.
I heard their footsteps fall into rhythm, an additional ones joining. It must have been my security guard Raymond escorting them down. It was more of a formality as both men had just left my presence were more than capable of defending themselves, nonetheless, it was a sign of respect and that's what this whole thing is predicated on.
I could now finally focus on the file on my desk. It was very thin, and not from a lack of trying I was assured. The young woman I was meeting today barely existed in the eyes of big brother. This is a rarity, being able to be this off the grid in our day and age. A 22-year-old woman that for all intents and purposes died after graduating high school. According to the first few pages, Vanessa has no social media presence, and no education outside of her diploma. She didn't even attend her graduation. In the eyes of the government, she'd never worked a day in her life, however, the photographs and written testimonies in the middle of file painted a different picture entirely.
She worked more than most. More than reasonable. She had been captured going into the various households that she cleaned on a rotational basis. I also had photos of the times she had gone to clients, offering some kind of hair service. She had worked anywhere that would let her without her social security number or ID, an abattoir, a small local restaurant and the list goes on. My investigator had spoken with a number of her employers and they all said the same thing. She worked hard and kept her mouth shut. I was quite curious to meet her and see what she had to say. Keeping her pretty little trap closed wasn't really an option for her in this situation.
The muffled sound of traffic briefly filled the room as something seemed to have happened to cause an excessive amount of honking. I didn't bother to look out the window, as I had more important things to attend to.
After I read the thin file cover to cover once more, I was informed by reception she had arrived.
I looked around my office, satisfied with its appearance. I hated clutter, and I hated even more when people used it as an excuse to look around aimlessly as opposed maintaining eye contact. I could just imagine it now, a meek girl begging and pleading for mercy over her family. A shaky voice with with wide eyes that revealed more of her sclera than natural. Unlucky for her, I was definitely not in a sentimental mood, so I hoped for her sake she had my money or expected to not leave here with her life.
As the clock struck midday, I heard a small knock on my office door.
"Enter"
That was all the instruction she needed, and the door swung inwards to reveal her form. She looked like her pictures, standing a bit taller than expected. A quick glance at her chosen footwear answered my question. She was a beautiful girl and if circumstances were different, I might have acted on that observation.
"Vanessa" I stated plainly, she nodded to confirm that was her given name.
"Come in. Take a seat"
She did so without hesitation. Confidence was too strong a word for what she had but she had her wits about her. Once she was face to face with me I took in her appearance. There was no evidence on her face that she had cried in the last ten minutes, and a lack of glossiness in her eyes indicated she wasn't close to tears now either.
My initial assessment of her appearance was premature. She was stunning. Her outfit didn't allow me to see much of her body, but a blind man could see she had shape. The black tone of her blazer and skirt didn't quite match and neither did the fabrics but overall she looked like she had made an effort. She seemed to understand the urgency of the matter and spoke without being prompted.
"Mr Leone, thank you for meeting with me today. As I'm sure you are aware, I'm here to discuss the debt of $100000 that my father has incurred."
I wasn't expecting her to come right out with it. Or for her voice to be so void of emotion. The people that had found themselves in her shoes before her were reluctant to even acknowledge the truth of it all. I was given diatribe after diatribe, excuse after excuse between sobs so heavy they forced my opponents to speak in short, stuttering sentences. Her approach was much more blunt. She had a bravado about her, and clearly wanted to leave my presence as quickly as she had entered it. That however was not a wish I was planning to grant today.
"Very well. So Vanessa, please tell me, how will you be paying today?"
She opened her small handbag and retrieved brown envelope from its depths. It was relatively thin, so I knew it wasn't the full sum her father owed. This alone caused a feeling of irritation to re-emerge. There couldn't be more than a stack in there, and the fact that this money is only now finding it's way to the surface is pissing me off to say the least. Before I could express this annoyance, she spoke again.
"I wasn't aware of this debt until I received your message via my brother. If I had been aware I would have stepped in before it had to even come to this."
Her tone was even, her voice sitting squarely in the feminine side of the spectrum. She hadn't cracked yet, but I'm sure the mounting pressure will soon become too much for the girl 5 years my junior.
"I have been assured that your whole family have received the summons for this debt. It was one your dad was liable for, so why is he not here today?" I had to know. When I first got the call from the solider who was handling the outreach for me that instead of the man I was expecting to reach out it was his daughter on the phone I was disgusted. I didn't know if he put her up to this of it she took matters into her own hands, but her response leaned towards the latter. It didn't take genius to figure out that the money she had in her possession today was probably her life savings, and if her dad hadn't made any effort to respond to me, I assume he didn't know about the money she was about to offer me.
"I can't speak for my father unfortunately. I don't know the details of how this came about, nor how long this has been going on for. My dad has been involved in more get-rich-quick schemes than I can count, but I didn't understand the true extent of it until very recently. All I can say is that as soon as I got wind of it, I made a move."
Fucking ballsy.
She continued, "I have 10% of the debt on me today in cash. I know it's not the full amount owed but clearing that is what I hoped to discuss today." She stopped for a moment, seemingly deciding how to continue. "Long story short, I would be willing to do anything you see fit to clear it. I can do admin, I can interpret, I can do hard labour if you'd like. All I ask is that you leave my mom and brother out of the matter." She intrigued me. I hadn't counted a single excuse yet.
She took a deep breath after that. Maybe she realised what a can of worms she opened by saying she would do anything. I had a feeling she wasn't unaware though, of what she had put on the table, either discreetly, or unknowingly. Her statement seemed rehearsed and thought out. My mind began to wander over the possibilities. My team was a well oiled machine. I wasn't in need of any of the services she mentioned, although having them performed by her would be a sight for sore eyes. My mind kept coming back to one idea though, but I would need to do a bit more investigating to see if it was worth it.
"$90000 is a lot of washing dishes if that's your meaning. Whether you knew or not, your dad has owed this money for the best part of a decade. I will not be waiting another to recoup my loses."
She understood the severity of the situation. I could tell how the words had hit her in the way her eyes shut for a second longer than a blink. Yet, her expression remained neutral. No tears, no quivering bottom lip. Unbeknownst to me, she had spent hours thinking about how this conversation would go and none of my actions were a surprise to her. "I understand sir, and I wish I had more for you, but I do not. I do not want to waste your time by promising I can give you another lump sum anytime soon, so I'm choosing honesty".
Part of me admired her levelheadedness. She possessed the composure of a woman far beyond her age and rank. I couldn't help but wonder what the 22 year-old girl had experienced to make her so... mature.
The question left the forefront of my mind as quickly as it arrived. I was not a therapist, the only digging I wanted to do today was in her pockets. She had however, metaphorically pulled the fabric out to demonstrate their emptiness so we were at an impasse already.
I decided to start pushing her a bit more, trying to illicit more of a reaction. "Asking me to keep you mother and brother out of it alone is a tall order. You have some nerve coming here asking for anything." My tone was grave, and was intended to communicate that I would not be entertaining any demands from her.
She takes a second before responding, "Offending you wasn't my intention. I was trying to emphasise that I, alone, have decided to take responsibility for the debt, and I'm ready for whatever you want me to do to begin repaying it." She says this while looking me directly in my eyes. Hell, she hadn't looked away since she sat down. This was not how I expected this meeting to go. She was good, continually putting the onus back on me to make a decision. To hand her a sentence. She was contrite enough to for me to believe she truly felt responsible for the debt, but kept her words numbered, refraining from giving me a sob story.
She's handling this better than most men I have come across.
Changing tact, I made a small waving motion over the file on my desk, "According to my sources, Vanessa Cruz, you barely exist. Why are you hiding?" I asked, I wanted more information from her.
Her head tilted to the side slightly, and for the first time, an emotion made it to the surface of her face: Confusion.
I elaborate, explaining how incredible it was that she had such a small presence. Little did I know that she wasn't in possession of any of her identification documents; that was a fact I came to learn later. She however, chose the abridged version of the story, which seemed to be her speciality
"I haven't been hiding intentionally, my circumstances just haven't afforded me the opportunity to make my mark." That was all she had to say for herself. I was slowly but surely beginning to grow frustrated with her. She was too cold, almost dissociated. My initial relief at her expressionless state was being replaced by ire that she wasn't shaking in her cheap heels.
I stood up, making her crane her slender neck to maintain eye contact with me. I slowly step away from my chair and made my way towards her. The temperature of the room seemed to drop instantly.
As I approached I decided to cut to the chase, asking her, "You said you would be willing to do anything, what if I decided to blow your pretty little head open in front of your family?". At this point I was stood next to her chair, and decided to lean against my desk, to give myself a better view of her. Her reactions were clearly internal, almost imperceptible to the eye, and I needed to get closer to really see what was happening. From where I sat I could see a few blemishes on her otherwise clear skin, and a small scar that intercepted the tip of her right brow, which indicated to me she hadn't put on any makeup for today's occasion. I thought back to her proposition of "anything", and although I'm now certain that she understood the subtext of that statement, she hadn't come here with the intention to seduce. I have had enough experience with women in search of a vehicle to help them embark on their endeavours of social mobility to know when I'm being enticed. She still had to tilt her head back slightly to keep eye contact, but her eyes remained at their normal size. She wasn't squinting sexily, the tip of her tongue remained in her mouth and she hadn't made any attempts to touch me.
Yet from this angle, I couldn't help but think about what she would like with her full lips wrapped around my dick.
There it was again. An intrusive thought, briefly taking me away from the matter at hand. She was attractive in a traditional way, but what was frustrating me about this exchange, was also what it driving me to think about the logistics of keeping her around... for my pleasure. She was certainly one of a kind.
The background check had revealed she had no connections to any rivalling faction. She wasn't really tied to anything, and killing her wouldn't illicit more than a candlelit vigil in her neighbourhood. Not privy to my internal dialogue, she interrupted my train of thought with her response to my question.
"If my life is the price you see fit to settle this matter then so be it."
Her eyes didn't leave mine for even a second. There was no teasing or tempting in her statement. No sadness or even fear either. She was really willing to die for something that had nothing to do with her in the first place.
Initially, I intended to drag this conversation on, get her to sweat before I arranging for her life to be taken in front of at least her father. If she had responded in any other way, I would have gone ahead with my plan. However the intensity in her eyes dissuaded me. She would be far more useful alive than dead.
It was a shame really, had she been born into another family, she would have been an excellent solider. Her poker face was immaculate. To quell my surprise and curiosity, I placed my middle and pointer finger just above her cleavage, and moved her shirt a bit to reveal a bit more skin. I then moved my fingers upwards, tracing along her windpipe until I found her carotid artery in the base of her jaw and felt for her pulse. Her skin was clammy with sweat and her heart was racing. After feeling what I needed, I removed them.
Ah, so she is human after all.
"You are a brave girl, but assisted suicide is not the business I'm in. I could get quite a bit for your organs, but I don't think it would quite cover the bill with how much I'd have to spend to get them in the first place."
Organ harvesting wasn't something I dealt in, the Don frowned upon it and called it messy business. I agreed. There were an innumerable amount of better ways to make money, and we exhausted the ones that didn't include human trafficking. It was an unnecessary evil, that even the most hardened amongst our ranks turned their nose up at. She, however, was none-the-wiser.
"I'm not suicidal, but if that's your assessment then I accept that." She responds a couple of seconds after a taking a deep breath. This alone confirmed that she indeed was not suicidal, but had indeed had successfully cheated death.
Brava.
My thoughts returned back to the only thing I felt she could really offer me. The idea had been swimming in the back of my mind, but I had no interest of making that kind of exchange a habit. I didn't need women coming out of the woodworks thinking they could just offer me sex to get rid of their issues with me. She seemed to almost know this and had slowly, but surely, guiding me to coming to the conclusion myself. At least that's what I had to assume, she gave almost nothing away.
In my organisation, men that had messy extracurricular affairs were not revered, contrary to popular belief. This was not necessarily out of respect for the sanctimony of holy matrimony, but more so because nothing fucks shit up more than a scored woman. I had to learn this quickly, as a few years ago I was know as the type of man to arrive to an event with one woman on my arm and leave with another, or both. Although I always managed the expectations of the women who's company I kept, things inevitably became... sticky.
It was a habit I had to drop, and replace with a new and improved system. One woman at a time, bound by heavy non-disclosure agreements and the threat of harm against everyone that mattered to her. The arrangement worked well, I had a regular jump off to take care of my every desire, who knew to stay in her place. In exchange, I took care of them, making sure that when they do get to step out with me, they looked up to par.
I tended to rotate them about every three months, growing bored of their company, and feeling the itch to find something more new and exciting. I wasn't a man that discriminated, although I rarely enjoyed the company of homely women. Vanessa was intriguing to say the least and if she fell in line with my next request, she might replace Athena, the beautiful Cuban that currently warmed my bed.
"Strip."
My command was simple.
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So Mr Leone is... something lol
Like, torture, murder and coercion are okay but organ harvesting is where you draw the line 🤔
I have always found the codes of morality within the world of crime funny.
But our girl held it down. She made an impression that will last and she even managed not to die. What do you think will happen next. LMK.
Vote, Comment and Share for clear skin and a fat ass!
TTYL - DUCHESS 🤍🤍🤍