Revenge.
I'm familiar with it. You have to be when you're the firstborn son of a notorious mafia leader. Death and vengeance have been the very foundations of my life.
So who in their fucking mind would be stupid enough to cross me?
My brother and...
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I toss my keys to the parking valet and tighten the buttons of my suit. It's cold as a motherfucker (ironically about as much as I am) but Sin is only a few steps away so I quicken my pace.
I pass the long line waiting outside the nightclub and cut to the front. The bodyguard standing at the back entrance nods when he sees me and unclips the velvet rope for me to pass through.
It's chaotic, as expected. Rambunctious techno music plays so loudly that the ground beneath my shoes shakes. I have to wonder who the hell enjoys this kind of monotone tasteless music because I sure as fuck wouldn't be caught dead associating myself with a goddamn theme song for robots. The crowd of drunk idiots and nearly-naked women stomping around in a pathetic display of dancing adds to the pulsing atmosphere of the club. It's like stepping into a heartbeat.
Sin is a dangerously alluring club in the heart of Lower Manhattan for criminals and whores alike. It's where women come to get fucked, men come to do the fucking, and businessmen come to nurse their kinks for all shit illegal.
It makes big bucks that go directly to my pocket because I fucking own the place.
Clubs are a common hide-in-plain sight tactic for leaders in mafia. No do-gooders come around these parts. They only attract fucked up people and they're too busy trying to forget their own miserable lives than to give a shit about anyone else's. No one looks both sides before crossing in here. That's why you can do whatever the fuck you want so long as you're being smart about it. That's why people like me invest in places like this.
I go up the stairs to the second floor, ignoring the advances of women dressed in what could be considered tissue paper trying to stop me for a fuck. I don't foresee myself fucking anyone in the future thanks to a pissed off wife who's probably planning my murder as I speak.
I don't mean for it to happen but my mind goes back to last week when I made her quit her job. A-fucking-gain. It's the way she looked me in the eye when she did it, made me feel all her hurt against my goddamn will. It's why I can't stop thinking about it. She isn't exactly letting me forget about it either.
I haven't seen even a glimpse of her in days. She stays locked up in her room all the fucking time. I used to see her in passing but not anymore and I know that's her doing. I shouldn't give a fuck but my ego has a few thoughts on it. Mainly shit like why the fuck does she make a decent opponent in my games? I'm not used to being thrown off so easily. It pisses me off but equally intrigues me too.
I get a call and check my phone, declining when I see it's Ferrera. He keeps demanding to meet and I'm certain daddy's little girl might have something to do with that. It's too bad I don't have time or a fuck to give for either of them.
