Unraveling Him | A mafia Story

Chapter 60 - Conquer or Die (Part II)

(Be sure that you read Part I before this)

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Nikolas's POV

I walked closer, careful with every step I took, trying to learn his current motive and his next move.

He unscrewed the cap of the bottle next to him and poured another glass, "Here," He pushed the glass down the desk, "Let's have a drink," He said, motioning for me to join him on the other side.

I stayed up, my wary gaze flickering all over him. He chuckled lowly, "Don't be so guarded," He said, leaning comfortably in his seat, like this was just another casual day, "What could I possibly pull on you right now?"

He quirked his eyebrow, "You know where all of my men are," He said, a hint of admiration in his voice, "You know that it's just me in here," He added, pointing at the seat across, "So, let's have one last drink together, shall we?"

My gaze fell onto the alcohol bottle placed on the desk. I extended my weapon-free hand and grasped it, inspecting the label  disapprovingly, "No, not this one," I shook my head, smoothing my tone, playing on with his game as my gaze flickered to the fancy alcohol cabinet he had at one corner of his office and my eyebrow quirked, "For such a distinctive occasion, we should open the Macallan 1926, don't you think?"

His gaze followed my path of sight and he nodded his head, amusement curling his lips, "Yeah, why not."

I headed for the cabinet and retrieved the old, extravagant bottle, not once letting my guard down, my senses were aware of every move, every breath he took, unwilling to fall into any trap he was weaving.

I took two glasses and headed back toward his desk, laying them over the surface. I eyed the bottle of scotch, "There are, what, just 40 bottles of these in the whole world?" I asked as I unscrewed the cap and poured a measure of the rare scotch into each.

He nodded his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, you know me," he replied, reaching for one of the glasses, "I like to obtain rare things," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine, a subtle implication woven into his words.

As he took his first sip, a satisfied hum escaped his lips, acknowledging the exquisite quality of the aged liquor.

He nodded toward the seat across from him, urging me to sit down. I took hold of my glass and settled into the plush leather,  "Like your mother for example," He added, "She was...rare," A wicked smile danced on his lips, "Can you imagine, the boss's daughter, the mafia princess, she was something alright, almost unreachable," He added.

My fingers involuntarily tightened over the glass as he added, "Rare, but I did obtain her nevertheless."

My jaw tightened and he noticed the shift in my expression. He lowered his glass down, chuckling lowly as he rested it over the table, his fingers still wrapped over it, "I will never understand your undying love for her," He spoke, genuinely curious at the reason behind my devotion to her.

"She is my mother," I grated out, the answer couldn't be any simpler.

His eyebrow raised, "And I am your father," He said, ever so casually, "Yet here you are," He added, pointing at the gun in my tight grip, "A weapon in hand, men everywhere, more than ready to bury me ten feet underground."

"You know everything you have done," I said, "Don't play clueless now."

He shrugged, "Whatever suits you, whatever makes you sleep at night, son," He said, letting go of the glass of liquor, his hand moving somewhere else and my grip tightened over my gun, my body on alert, ready to fight back. He chuckled and raised his hand, "Calm down," He said, "I just wanted to show you something."