Page 2 of My Merciless Don

I could just see Kylie rolling her eyes. “I take it you got the key card.”

“Yep.”

“Good, because Marco’s car is just drawing up at the entrance. I'll follow him to keep an eye out.”

“Excellent. Going up.”

From my place behind the indoor plant that stood between the elevator and the stairs, I watch as Marco walked out of the hotel, his gait a graceful lope like a gazelle or some big cat. His shoulders filled the doorway, as he stepped out and I shiver, remembering how hard his body felt when I leaned against him.

He could definitely crush me with one hand tied behind his back. He could probably lift me up and break me in half on his knee, twist me around and smash me flat. All without breaking a sweat.

I didn't know why I was breathing hard. As far as I knew I didn't have a masochistic streak.

CHAPTER TWO

MARCO

“This meeting could have been an e-mail,” I complained to my brother as we once again hit LA traffic. It was a real pain in the ass, even in the cool air-conditioned Lexus I was traveling in.

“But how could the clans impress upon you how worried they are about the Bratva if this was an e-mail?” My brother Valerio replied. He thought he was such a comedian.

“Not helpful.”

“Wait,” he said, glancing back at me from the driver’s seat, “what's up with you? Something's wrong.”

I turned away from him to stare out the window, hating how perceptive he always was. I tried shaking my head but he cut me off. “Bullshit. What's bothering you? You need a clear head for this meeting so you might as well tell me now and get it over with.”

“It's the weirdest thing,” I shook my head in wonder, “I met some girl at the bar, and she was the spitting image of Amy.”

Valerio remained silent for a handful of seconds while keeping his eyes on the road, clearly caught wrong footed. Whatever he'd expected me to say it wasn't that. “What do you mean spitting image?”

“I mean copy and paste, dude. She was like a flirtier, sassier version of Amy.”

“You're not saying you…?”

“No, fuck you. Of course I didn't sleep with her. Since when have you known me to pick up chicks in bars?”

“Okay so… what did you do?”

“Nothing. She kind of seemed to want to hit on me, but then she tripped and fell and got embarrassed, so she left.”

“And you just let her go?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Tell her, ‘Oh hey you’re the doppelganger of my dead fiancé, crazy huh?’. Or what?” I gave him a look of disgust through the rearview mirror.

He stared back at me through the small mirror, something like pity in his eyes, long enough for it to get slightly uncomfortable. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop but he spoke before me.

“It was probably the light. Those hotel bars are so dark. All she would have needed was some brown hair and eyes, the right height, the right weight…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I looked away not wanting to argue with him about what I saw. I knew he was just trying to comfort me but, it was coming off a bit like gaslighting.

Maybe the Cosa Nostra was no longer what it used to be, but it was still a force to be reckoned with. Nicolò De Luca sat at the head of the table, the head of the largest clan in LA. His specialty was girls and drugs – so there was plenty of business in Hollywood for him. To his right sat Mauro Leggieri, owner of the largest gambling ring in America. To his left, me. Our specialty was transportation - we did it all; guns, drugs, illicit goods, anything that needed transportation, we were your guys. The only thing we refused to transport were human beings.

We left that to the Russians.

Down the table were the smaller outfits, distributors mainly - essentially our main customers.

“Gentlemen welcome.” Nicolò said looking around the table. “I know you're all busy men, so I appreciate you taking the time to come out to Malibu.”

---