"Alright, what do we got?" Luke asked, lighting a cigarette as he spoke. It was late and they'd been going over everything for hours. He knew his men were tired, knew they hadn't gotten much sleep but, they knew he was demanding and had zero tolerance for errors.
Of course, everyone knew Luke Farina and everyone understood what it meant to work for him. He was a man who pursued perfection, down to the very last detail. He was meticulous and painstakingly vigilant, and he expected... demanded this of everyone who worked for him. He was not a forgiving man either- he was cold, calculating, and as ruthless in his business as he was in any pursuit. He was not the sort of man who ever took no for an answer, even if that meant sometimes people got hurt.
"A cold and heartless bastard."
That was one way that many people would put it and hey, he didn't argue. It was true and Luke appreciated people knowing the truth. If they knew who he was and how he was then they would be more careful about upsetting him in the future.
"It's what you thought. The Russo brothers have been spotted selling just south of 27th and Pepper Hill." Marco said.
"Pepper Hill? Past the prep school?" Luke asked, surprised but Marco shook his head.
"In front of it." He replied, and this time, Luke frowned. Luke was a spineless son of a bitch but even he had standards. There were rules and one of those rules what that you didn't mess with children. Anywhere. Now usually, Luke didn't bother with what other people did. If another man wanted to run his business that way, it was certainly not something Luke was going to be involved in, even if that did make him an even bigger son of a bitch. Luke was no hero, no benevolent leader, and most certainly, Luke was not the type of man to step in for the greater good. To him, the greater good was what brought him greater good. He was concerned first and foremost for himself and his own. That was it.
Of course, it was known that the city was inside Luke's territory and Luke, being a man who was very concerned about his own good, was very concerned about what was going on in his territory.
"You talk to them?" Luke asked.
"No, but their man- Denny- says they are willing to talk to you." Marco replied.
"What the fuck about? Those two know that the city belongs to us. God fucking damn it. This was my concern with letting those two pieces of shit move into Southtown." Luke said, referring to the very small town just about 50 miles outside the opposite end of the city.
26 years ago, when Luke was still a small boy, his father let the Russo family retire into obscurity after their father had failed to properly care for their people. It was the type of thing that Dons had been doing for years. They Russo family left with most of their people integrating well and accepting the Farina family's protection. There wasn't a man in the city's underworld who didn't know this. While Luke could look the other way to people selling or holding, he didn't take it well when they openly sold in areas of town that were strictly forbidden. The rule was you don't go near the school zones- even if he did know that those punk kids were getting it from the neighboring towns. That was not his problem. Luke and his men did not deal in drugs, there were other men around who did that and they had their understanding with them.
But the Russo boys were strictly forbidden from conducting any type of business inside the city, especially when it violated Luke's rules.
"What I got was their flat out refusal to discuss it with anyone but yourself." Marco said, making Luke raise his brow.
"Since when does a Don waste his time on a couple of nobodies? Get rid of 'em." Luke said angrily.
"If you're sure, I will." Marco said but Luke let out a groan of frustration. It was easy enough to say but not easy enough to do and Luke knew it. Just because most of the Russo family had integrated well, did not mean they would appreciate him so easily discarding of the Russo boys.
"No, no." Luke said running his hand through his hair. "Set up the meeting. We are going to talk some sense into those boys and they WILL understand what I have to say to them."
"Got it. Here or there?" Marco asked.
"There." Luke said simply. Those boys were not allowed in the family boundaries. Like them, the majority of the Farina family lived in a small town, opposite end of the city and less than 30 miles out. They could not come here and Luke disliked the idea of doing it in the city. That was where most of the old Russo family members now lived and where the majority of Luke's operations ran. He had learned by then to handle business like this quietly and out of the way. Marco watched Luke carefully, knowing that behind those dark eyes there was at least a hundred thoughts going a hundred miles an hour. Already he could tell that Luke was planning out his next move carefully.
"I'll get on that." Marco said, dismissing the others in the room silently. He continued to watch Luke, who was lost deep in thought, the scar that ran from his left cheek down to his lip ticking softly as he tensed. Luke could be considered a handsome man, he really was and once there had been a long line of women who were happy to make fools of themselves just to get a single look from him. But the day that Luke got the scars was the day everything changed. It wasn't just that bold scar on his cheek, or the smaller one that cut through the left brow, and it certainly wasn't the several scars on his shoulder, it was everything about that day that had changed him. It was how those scars changed the people around him.
The women who had once run towards him now seemed to shrink away from the scars that made the handsome devil now look like a real one. And while it was true that Luke was still a handsome man, it had become hard to look past those scars.
"Why don't you go home?" Marco asked, making Luke snap out of his trance. Marco had been Luke's friend his entire life, the one person he could turn to, the most loyal. Luke might never admit it out loud but he wasn't sure what he would do without him.
"Why are you still here?" Luke asked with the same cold indifference he had perfected over the years. Marco sighed. Unlike all the men who had left the room, Marco did not fear Luke, even when Luke was at his most selfish and cruel. Marco instead took special care of Luke, prepared to defend him against anything and anyone.
"You should go rest." Marco insisted with a grin, "Shave... maybe a bath?"
Luke frowned.
"You're not telling me I stink, are you? Because I don't think I've ever met anyone foolish enough to tell their boss they stink." Luke said. Marco chuckled and shook his head. It was infuriating, if it wasn't because he would never find a better man, Luke would be more than glad to wipe the smile off of Marco's face. He couldn't stand the man, always in such a jovial mood and always teasing him. He reminded him too much of his father. One of these days, one of these days he would have the extreme pleasure of laying him low. At least, that was what Luke always repeated to himself.
"I was merely suggesting you take measures to prevent it." Marco said, trying to contain his laughter. His eyes twinkled playfully. He knew at this very moment, Luke must be imagining half a dozen ways he'd like to kill him but, he also knew that Luke wouldn't dare. As much as Luke hated the idea and would never admit it, Marco was his best friend and he actually enjoyed his company.
"If I want your advice..." Luke began but Marco nodded.
"I know... I know..." Marco said, turning to leave. "You'll ask for it. Goodnight, BOSS."
Luke stared after Marco as he closed the door behind him before finally allowing himself to fully relax.
He sat back in his chair, his mind immediately going back to the Russo boys, wondering what the hell he'd been thinking when he let those boys move back. There was a reason his father had set the boundary so far, it was to avoid problems like this. Well Luke wasn't going to take pity. He was going give those boys two options and one of them ended with cement shoes. He stared at the ceiling, tired and in a definitively sour mood. He'd been compared to his father all too much over the years since he took over and more so since his father passed. He was the spitting image of him except for the dark eyes. His father's eyes were blue as the sky. People liked to whisper that Luke's eyes were the devil's eyes, dark as his soul. He knew that people had loved his father and he was not surprised.
The previous don was a very benevolent man. He was a man who filled the room with laughter, a man who was always in a playful and even cheerful mood, even when he was working. When his parents had reigned, so to speak, there had been parties, dinners, festivities. His father had played godfather to more than just a few babies and his mother was a saint. A true saint, a woman who spent her time checking in on others and tending to the less fortunate. His father had been firm but merciful, and willing to forgive people much more easily than his son. Luke on the other hand had no tolerance for people who crossed him. His good grace once lost was lost forever and it was his lack of remorse or pity that made people avoid him as much as possible.
Luke leaned back in his chair. He was so unlike his parents. His childhood had been one that was filled by their gentle manner and love, something that Luke rarely thought about anymore. Luke had always tended to be hard headed and hard-hearted, he was born a business man first and the years and life had only heightened this part of him.
There were many stories in the city about the mysterious don of a criminal family who ruled the crime world with an iron fist. To most people, it was more like a story or an urban legend and when they spoke of it they laughed because they almost didn't believe it. Luke was okay with this, he felt that knowledge of their world shouldn't be for everyone. For those who did know the truth, well they never spoke of it unless they had to.
He glanced over at the clock on the wall. Late and he was angry but, Luke knew exactly what he needed to help him feel better. He picked up his phone and sent a quick message, letting a certain pair of soft arms know that he'd be there soon. He didn't wait for a reply, didn't bother asking if those arms were free. He insisted that they'd always be free and available to him at his beck and call. He'd long ago abandoned any romantic ideas or notions, he had not time for weak women and their tears. He wasn't a fool. It had been years since a woman had treated him with any kind of sincere tenderness. He didn't care either. He needed women to be a temporary distraction, nothing else.
And now, he desperately needed that distraction. He needed the type distraction that ended with a pair of pretty nails digging into his back.