Page 35 of Shackled By the Mafia Boss

“Who is asking?” one of them asks, staring down at me.

“Marcus Romano,” I answer. “Get out of the way or I’ll shove your cock right into your mouth.”

The idiot in front of me tries to pull out a gun but mine is pressing against his forehead before he can do anything more foolish than he’s already done.

His colleagues pull out theirs, the bastards are confused whether to point the gun at me or my men.

They look around. They’re outnumbered. If they had any common sense, they would put down their guns. But common sense isn’t a luxury a lot of people can afford these days.

“What is it going to be?” I ask them, wearing my best smirk. “Put down the toys you’re holding or die before you can even pull the trigger.”

It takes a moment before the idiot my gun is pressed against makes a decision. “Put down your guns.” When he swallows, I know his pride is really hurt.

The satisfaction that ripples through me is nothing like it would’ve been if I had the chance to paint the walls with his blood. I guess I’ll leave that for another day.

The other four drop their guns to the white marble floor, then kick them to my men. I smile and stroke invisible dust from the jacket of the one my gun is pointing at. Then I slap his cheek. “Good dog. Now let me in.”

He wraps his hand around the handle of the double-black door and pushes it open.

I return my gun to the inner pocket of my jacket and walk into Victor’s office.

The old fart has a whore flipped over his table and he’s groaning like a pig as he drives his little weeny in and out of her.

It’s an absolutely disgusting sight.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean on the wall. “You realize you’re wasting your time going harder when your dick is that small.”

Victor and his whore whip their heads in my direction.

“Shit!” He slides out of her and faces the other direction, picking up his clothes from the floor. “Fuck!” He flips his head back to the whore. “What are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here.”

Holding her strapless dress to her chest, she scurries for the door and I move out of the way to let her out.

Victor dresses, buckling his belt and buttoning his shirt at the speed of light. “How did you get in here?”

“Through the door.”

“How?”

I’m not obliged to answer his questions, but I find messing with him amusing. “You should do better. One gun to his head and your Chief of Security nearly peed in his pants.”

“You should learn some manners and not come into someone’s office unannounced.” He rounds the table and sits on the leather-swivel chair behind his oak desk. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it rude to not offer your guest a seat?”

He seethes, his gray brows knitting angrily. “Sit down, or not. I don’t give a shit.”

“No, thanks. Who knows what’s been there?”

His frown deepens and I laugh. See? It’s fun messing with him.

“What do you want from me?”

I walk to the desk and stop in front of it. “You had something to do with the shipment that went missing a year ago, didn’t you?”

His eyes widen. His attempt to feign indifference fails him because I can see guiltwritten all over his face. “Um—”

“You might want to think twice before you speak.” I bring out the gun my from my pocket and roll it on the table. “One bullet to your head and you’re a dead man.”

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