Page 5 of Memento Mori
We met at an exclusive night club after I wrapped up a business meeting and decided to have a night out on the town to relax before heading to Tokyo to meet with Haruto Yamada, the Yakuza boss of the Sato Clan.
Marisol and I partied, enjoying one night of multiple orgasms until I was on a plane to Japan before the sun came up. If it hadn’t been for that meeting with Haruto, I was sure our night would have lasted a few more days.
We departed on good terms, at least I thought we did. She got what she wanted, and so had I. She knew that one night was just sex. Now she was telling the world we were having a kid.
Bullshit!
Why in the hell would she try this?
I walked over to the rain covered windows and looked out over the city. I needed to calm down before I dealt with this shit. Too much was happening all at once. First, the Families were pimping out their daughters so they would have the title Donna once I took my father’s place. My sister had been pulled into some shit with her boyfriends’ motorcycle club, Demons United, and now I got some woman I fucked one time, trying to destroy my life.
I didn’t know how much time had passed while lost in my thoughts of how to handle this situation. The rain had stopped pounding the glass, and the sun peaked out from behind the gray clouds. Maybe it was a sign things would be looking up real soon. At least, that was what I hoped.
The sound of the office phone forced me away from the lovely view. “This better be Laney telling me Driver is here,” I mumbled, sliding my cell phone in my pocket, and walking over to my desk, pressing the speaker option on the phone.
I’d let my lawyers handle Marisol.
“Yes, Laney. Send him in.”
I hung up and sat behind my desk. When the large windowless door opened, George Driver stalked into my office in a wrinkled tan suit and anger marring his chubby face. He’d learn quickly he wasn’t meeting Antonio the CEO, but Antonio the Underboss. This piece of shit would not destroy my life for money.
“Mr. Driver, have a seat.” I motioned to the seat Alessandro had vacated earlier. “Laney, please hold all my calls until I’m done with Mr. Driver,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on him.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, then closed the door.
“What is the meaning of this!” he shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he took the seat in front of me. “I don’t like being summoned like I’m some damn servant. I am the CEO and owner of Exposé Magazine. I do not work for you.”
My leather office chair rocked when I leaned back and centered my attention on the man who looked like he would blow a fuse at any moment.
“Mr. Driver.” I smiled, ignoring his rant, resisting the urge not to leap across my desk and choke the life out of him. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“You certainly didn’t give me a choice. Now, did you?”
His question caused my smile to widen. “No, I certainly did not. I’m glad you understood it wasn’t a request. I assume you know who I am and why you’re here?”
“Of course, I know who you are. Everyone does. But no, I do not know why I’m here.”
He looked around the office like he was waiting for someone or something to jump out and scare the shit out of him. While he tried to portray that he was in control, deep down he understood he was in deep shit.
“Great, so we can bypass the formalities. Well, George. Can I call you George?” Not waiting for his response, I continued. “Kill the story. It’s a problem.”
“I’m not doing that, and you can’t force me. Freedom of the Press and all.” He smirked. “It may be a problem for you, Mr. Rizzo, but it’s what my readers want. It’ll be our most talked about story this year. You’re an extremely popular man. Our readership always increases if there’s a story pertaining to you and your sexual exploits. Now throw in a love child, the magazines will fly off the shelf.”
The excitement in his voice made my anger soar. He thought he made the final decision when it came to anything concerning my life. Like I had no other option but to accept his pronouncement. I tilted my head and studied the man in front of me with a smile on his face. One that wouldn’t last much longer.
Although it was his company, he leeched off the lives of others, including mine. And had done so for many years without complaint from me. Today, that would change. He didn’t work hard, he lived to crush lives while profiting from it. Now I would crush his.
I pulled my H & K nine-millimeter handgun that was strapped under my desk and chambered a round—the black polymer virtually weightless in my hand. His sharp intake of breath infiltrated my ears when I aimed it at his head from across the desk, sending a jolt of adrenaline racing through my body.
Let’s see what a little persuasion can do.
“Well, it seems it’s no longer just my problem, George. But yours.”
Chapter Two
Another Flight, Another Meeting
Aaliyah
