Page 37 of Villainous
Icheck on the brothels to make sure all the girls are in healthy condition. I’m not in a happy mood, and hearing some of the profits are down in the business puts me in a killing mood. If I don’t get my shit together, Devious will get up my ass about it, and I don’t want to hear from his mouth. For the last few days, I’ve been getting little to no sleep, working like crazy. Manos needed my help with some of the new shipment of girls that are being delivered from overseas. I examine each of the girls and decide where I’m going to place them and in which brothels. They have to get measured and tested for any type of drugs and STIs, and then Manos has to insert tracking devices inside them and brand them. I haven’t fucked in a few days, and if I don’t get some pussy from Maya, I’m going to lose my shit.
We’re at one of the brothels on Staten Island. The room looks like a doctor’s office, and other women are getting measured. I hear the shower going in a few rooms where girls are screaming for dear life.
“Step forward,” I tell the blonde girl. She’s twenty-three years old and lanky, and her face is flat. She’s not the prettiest, but she’s not the ugliest. She’ll have to go as a sex slave, because we’re running low in stock.
Fear warps in her mud eyes, and tears leak down her cheeks. She was stolen last night, and she still has on her silk pajama shorts.
“Why am I here?” Her tone is mousy.
Every girl who is kidnapped is brought to me, and I’ll determine which section they need to go in. I’ll either train them for the brothels, or I’ll put them into sex slavery. In this line of business, you have to know women and which ones you can control and which ones need to be broken.
It’s the same conversations with all the women who are kidnapped.Why am I here? Why are you doing this? You’re a monster. Please let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.
We usually kidnap girls from lower-income famiglias because their famiglias don’t have enough resources to get the help they need for their missing daughter, and we kidnap girls from different countries because it’s harder for them to track. New York City makes foreign young women easy to prey on because everyone comes to the Big Apple for the first time and wants the full experience of being American.
“Lift your head up high,” I say.
I want to check to see if she has any marks on her neck.
Tears well in her eyes, and her gaze drifts around the small room we’re in. The room is bare but for a few boxes that I need to get up. She wraps her tiny arms around her body.
“Manos, step forward.” I keep my hands in my pockets. “You might want to obey me unless you want to be beaten into submission,” I say casually.
She assesses Manos from head to toe, and sheer terror haunts her face. Slowly, she lifts her head high, tilting her nose to the ceiling.
Manos grabs his phone from his pocket and types on it. “Boss, Piero said he needs you in the office.”
I nod. “Get her cleaned up and put her in the cell with the rest of the girls. Tonight, start her training for slavery.”
“You got it, boss,” he says, and he grabs her by the arm.
I walk up the stairs and open the door to my office, and Piero is sitting in the executive chair in front of the desk which is made out of walnut.
I sign,“What?”
He grins like a Cheshire cat and signs back,“The girls are giving you trouble. You’re in a pissy mood.”
I roll my eyes and flop down in my seat, kick my feet up on the desk, and sign,“I need some head and a bed.”
He shrugs and stands up from the chair, then sits on the desk.“I don’t fuck family nor men. Why don’t you hook up with one of the escorts? They love to fuck you.”
I’m not craving a whore’s pussy—I’m craving Maya, like I did in high school. I’m sick of her living in my head rent-free, and I hate having obsessive thoughts over her. I shake my head.
“Packet,” he mumbles.
It’s fucking cold in this building, so I grab my Burberry coat from the coat rack and slide it on.
Fuck, I forgot that today I was giving him an extra three grand for his mother’s chemotherapy. She has stage four ovarian cancer, and it has been kicking her ass for about a year now.
I nod, then open the drawer of my desk and hand him an envelope.
“How is the treatment coming along?”
Tears gloss over his eyes, and a sad smile stretches across his face. Then he signs,“This might be her last treatment. The tumor won’t shrink, and she has been giving up hope. And I don’t want her to.”
“I’m sorry, man. I wish I could do something to help,”I sign, and I bring him into a hug. I don’t like many people, but the ones I do care for, I care for them too deeply.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles.“Oh, I forgot to mention, Tony told me to inform you that someone at the strip club keeps asking for you, then hanging up. They called four times this week. I tried to trace the number, but it’s a prepaid phone. He said it sounded like a teenager.”
