The Saint

Chapter 18

One Month later

Giovanni POV

In Cairo, Egypt, Peter was smoking a cigarette while counting his cash after exchanging some guns. After I came back to Italy, the Italian mafia has been hunting him down like a dog.

What a coward.

He decided to hide out until he and his brothers could figure some shit out.

"You have been off the grid for a while boss." Artur said. He was Peter's best man and trustee.

"I have good reason. Anyway, my business is booming here in Egypt."

"Well, you should call your brother Dmitri. He has a plan if you want to hear it." Artur informed but Peter just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Before I make that call, get me a fucking drink and a whore." He gave him cash and sent him on his way.

Later that day, Peter was communicating with Dmitri through Skype.

"We all know that empire belongs to you." Dmitri said. "And we fucked up big time trying to kill this Italian prick."

"So, what is the plan?"

"Well.......we have to get close to him again."

"Oh, that's fucking genius. The whole fucking family knows that I was the rat. How the fuck are we going to get close to him?"

"It won't be a man. It will be a woman. They are more trusting. They make people weak."

"A woman......what if we send a woman undercover?"

"Now you're thinking. Plus, I know just the woman for the job."

Back in Rome......

I was out a lot of the time. I took over the Italian mob again when my father said he needed to go back into retirement. 7 months ago, I was almost killed by the fucking Russians, and now I am back looking for them.

I had a new purpose to come back. It wasn't for me. It was for Isabel. My mind kept going back to the night when I first saw her in that beautiful white gown.

Wow......she was a real saint to me. She changed me, yet my greatest fear was me going back to my old ways. I was in my office looking at some cellphone records.

Peter's phone was filled with texts and calls to Russia, even after I was gone. I knew I had to think of something.

I groaned as I thought about that night in France.

Helga Rostov.

God, she was so fucking sexy, yet so innocent.

I was at an Auction party in Paris. We were all buying stolen goods, arts, and humans. I saw a woman with curly red hair. When she turned around, I saw her blue eyes complimenting her pale skin. I didn't care if she was a Rostov. I didn't care if she wasn't for sale. I wanted her.

I walked up to this woman with a smooth smirk on my face. I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Can I buy you a drink?" I asked confidently.

"No thank you. I'm waiting for my husband." She sweetly said. You can tell she was an innocent woman.

"Just one drink." I offered again and she glanced at me being persistent. My eyes were dark and she backed away from me. I grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly. "I have a bomb in this fucking hotel. If you don't come with me, everyone you love will be dead." I growled in the woman's ear. She whimpered and tried to squirm away from me. I dragged her to a closet and took advantage of her. She tried to scream and kick. I took put a small needle with Demerol in it. I injected the drug in her and chuckled seeing her unconscious, and I pounded into her without mercy. I did this with another woman. I took advantage of her. I took what I wanted and left. I didn't care what she said. It was all about causing pain to the guilty.