Page 42 of Bratva Bride

He was way too excited for this.

I raised my leg and kicked in the door.

"Knock, knock," I sang as I stepped in.

I was greeted with a high pitch shriek of terror and Marco's bare, white ass.Lovely.A red-haired woman was on her knees in front of Marco, her hair dishevelled and lipstick smudged. All she had on was a skimpy lace outfit and what had to be at least six-inch hooker heels.

"What the fuck?!" Marco screamed as he pushed the woman to the side and turned to face us, grabbing a gun.

The second he saw it was me, his smile dropped. He was a short, stumpy guy, about 5'6 with short brown hair. His eyes were frozen wide open in fear, the gun in his hand trembling.

"Mr-Mr De Luca," he stuttered. "What a surprise."

"Ah, so you do know who I am." Vin moved from my side, walking menacingly around the room. He took out a knife from his sheath and started spinning the blade in between his fingers. His go to scare tactic.

"Of course, sir."

"So why the fuck are you still pointing a gun at me?" I growled.

He paled and immediately lowered his gun. "I'm sorry, sir."

I pointed at the redhead cowering in the corner. "You. Out."

She got to her feet instantly and ran from the room at full speed. Marco's lips twitched, like he wanted to say something but luckily for him, he stayed quiet. I moved to the large wooden desk in the centre of the room and sat behind it, leaning back comfortably in the black leather chair. It was a classic power play. I wanted him to see that even if this was his office, his desk, I owned it all.

Marco frowned. "I wasn't expecting you sir."

"I bet you weren't. Nevertheless, I'm here. And we have an issue to discuss." I narrowed my eyes and felt an odd sense of satisfaction as he squirmed underneath my gaze.

"Is-issue sir?"

"Stop stuttering," I snapped. "Where’s Diego?”

“Diego? I don’t know sir.”

“You don’t? He’s meant to be here with you, isn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but he called earlier to say he couldn’t make it in. He’s sick.”

“Sick?” I repeated, my voice dropping low.

Marco gulped. “Yes-yes, sir.”

“You’ll have to do then. Remind me what your job is, Marco?”

He glanced uneasily around the room. “M-my job is to oversee the distribution of the coke and meth and deliver the cash to the drop houses.”

I smiled and kicked my feet up onto the desk, crossing them at the ankles. “Correct. And if a problem were to arise, say a large sum of money went missing, who would be responsible for that?”

Fear flashed across his face and he turned white as a sheet. “Missing, sir?”

“Missing. Poof. Gone, like magic.”

“Is-” he licked his lips nervously, “is this hypothetical, sir?”

“I don’t know Marco, is it?” I whispered darkly.

He shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact. Vin continued to circle him, his knife flipping through the air. “Sir, I don’t know what’s going on-”

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