A Mafia Family Ch. 02

It was shortly after midnight and the chilly air hardened Vanessa's nipples. Only a thin tank top covered her luscious tits. She began biting her lip, one hand holding the cigarette while the other cupped a boob, squeezing tightly. Shaking her head, she controlled herself. She wasn't desperate for, but this sexual drought had been active for weeks now.

She finished the cigarette, stubbed it out on the concrete frame of the balcony and flicked it over. Going back inside, her mind travelled to her mother and the reasons why she dashed to London out of all places. Usually Eleanor would have invited her for business trips, but by the gesture not being extended this time, she assumed it was more of a private and sensitive matter.

Vanessa sighed, dropping onto the bad and reaching for her phone. She had a trillion notifications. Being the daughter of famous people made her popular among her own generation, which meant a lot of followers on several of the biggest social media platforms. She was constantly featured in online magazines and news, bombarded with fake news unreliable information. She found humour in how easy it was to manipulate society at large when they heard what they wanted, and believed what they liked. Now Vanessa was an icon, with many people looking up to her, desiring her and ultimately leading to having her own entourage. But she never cared for the materialistic and superficial life. What Vanessa sough was meaning. Whether that came from the line of work she would do in her life, or from family or a certain person, it did not matter to her. All she wanted was to have a purpose.

Her mind wandered to her father and deciding to check up on him, she got up from her comfortable and warm bed, her nipples erecting slowly from the cool air, and trudging to Mario's office downstairs. The heave wood door was shut, as usual, and she knocked strongly three times before hearing a "Yes?" from inside. She put momentum into pushing the door open and entered the large office.

As a kid she used to enjoy spending time in this room. She used to look up at the endless documents, the hundreds of books and the secret meeting held in here. It was the professional life documented through young Vanessa's eyes. Now an adult, the perspective changed. She knew that this was less of her father's office and more of her mother's.

"Hi dad, just wanted to check in and wondered if you needed anything?"

Vanessa leaned against the doorframe, playing with her hair and the movement causing her firm tits to bounce a little. Her booty shorts did not leave anything to the imagination either.

The moment Mario laid eyes on his daughter, he firmly choked on the tea he was sipping and his eyes bulged, among another thing. He could feel his inner dog coming out at the mere presence of the erotic woman that was his daughter.

Mario recovered, taking another sip from the tea before answering with a hoarse voice. "All good here."

Vanessa frowned in irritation. Why was her father acting strange? She dismissed the thoughts, nodded at her father and pulled the door shut again, trailing back to her room.

Mario's face was flushed, his body temperature rising and his breathing heavy. Sweat pearls formed on his forehead and were quickly spreading, expanding their journey. He glanced down underneath the large desk and between his legs, there was the Serbian prostitute, licking his cock like a good girl, her breasts out and within reach for him to grab and play with.

Her name was Mila, last name unknown and she was bought for several hundreds of dollars, racking in profits over a grand a night. She was more than worth the money spent and the headache she came with. After the initial meeting with her, Mario knew she was going to get popular really quickly, and it was true. Within a month she was the most beloved whore around town. People even tried booking nights in advance. There just was something about Mila that made men go crazy, just like Mario was right now as she began licking the tip of his dick.

"Oh Jesus." Mario groaned, his head hanging back from pleasure.

Vanessa heard her father curse but didn't think anything of it as she bounced back up the stairs and disappeared into her room. She felt empty inside and reached for the pack of cigarettes again, pulling one out and opened the sliding door open to the balcony of her room. She loved that she had a little private balcony with a nice view. She began smoking and thought how lonely she truly was when her mother was not around. She wasn't just her mother, she was her best friend, and right now she missed her.

Glancing at the black screen of her phone, an idea struck her and she swiftly unlocked it. The wheels in her head were getting ready to jump gears, her face a confident smirk. She found the soonest flight to London, booked it without even noticing the price, and felt the excitement rushing through her body and overshadowing the emptiness she felt earlier. Vanessa finished the cigarette quicker this time, and went back inside in order to begin packing her getaway.

**

New York City, USA

**

Vincent Amani sat in his Cadillac, sipping on vodka straight from the bottle. He was already drunk, now it was just an issue of maintaining this level of fucked. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes were bloodshot and he had eye bags. He looked way older than his actual 25 years. In the passenger seat was a brunette. That's all he knew about her and what he called her by. He didn't care for names, as long as she knew who he was and what he could do to her if she slipped and her teeth came in contact with his dick, then no further words needed to get exchanged. After all, he was paying this overpriced bitch a grand an hour, so she better be worth it, he thought and glanced down as she was bobbing on his angry prick. Her warmness felt amazing and the way she sucked in her cheeks to give him ultimate pleasure was great and he could feel the climax coming.

His eyes looked up at the movement of a body. Squinting, he saw the woman he was stalking, dressed in denim shorts, a snug t-shirt that complimented her curves and slim body, with a suitcase rolling behind her. She looked like the perfect American girl. But when he observed the suitcase being taken from her by the driver and was loaded into the trunk, while she slipped into the backseat, he became angry. Grabbing the brunette by her hair and forcefully pulling her head up, the poor girl screaming from pain, he smacked her hard against the face and dashed her across the other side to the passenger seat.

"Where the fuck does this bitch think she's going?" Vincent's words were filled with passionate anger, his face boiling.

He gripped the steering wheel, his palms covered in ink. On his left hand, he had the word 'Devil' tattooed on his fingers, on his right the word 'Death'.

Jocelyn, the brunette who until up a few seconds ago thought she was pleasing Vincent, was sniffling silently, holding the side of her sensitive face that was hit. Everything happened so fast that the pain caught up with her after the adrenaline disappeared. Once the pain lessened, the anger took its peak place and she glared at the man who had hit her. The woman beater. Scum. She knew better than to act rash, if she waited, her opening will come and the revenge she was already plotting would be sweet and slow, because he might be the one with the vile tattoos, but she was the really fucked up one.

As soon as the S-Class sped off, Vincent made a phone call to someone he referred to as 'The Tracker'. The one person in his family who was given the responsibility of taking care of any relevant information due to his incredible hacking skills. Rumours have it he was a whiz kid, a child genius that refused Harvard because he thought education was a scam.

"Boss."

Vincent liked that. No unnecessary greetings, just straight to the point. Danny the Tracker just graduated a credit level in Vincent's books.

"I have a job for you."

"Shoot."

Vincent glanced in the distance, the car now barely visible. "I need you to find out where Vanessa Vicenti is going."

He expected an answer straight away, but when he was met with silence, irritation mixed with his pre-existing anger.

"Are you still fucking there?"

He heard Danny clear his throat. "Yeah. No problem, but do you really want that?"

"What the fuck does that mean?" Vincent spat, his face scrunched up in annoyance.

"I mean, she's a Vicenti. We open that door and we get busted, it means a whole load of anger not only from them, but also from our Don."

Vincent palmed his forehead. "Listen dickhead, she is my wife. I have the fucking right to know where the fuck she is going at all motherfucking times. Do you hear me?"

Silence again. This just annoyed Vincent even more and not bothered to deal with this shit any longer, he simply hung up, cursing Danny for few more minutes as he started the engine of the Cadillac and put it into drive.

Without looking, he reached for the head of the brunette and pulled it to his lap, his instructions clear despite the lack of words. Jocelyn quickly accommodated and began licking his limp dick, her mind however was on the conversation she just witnessed. It contained information that could deem powerful and very lucrative in the future, so she made sure to keep the exchange in her head in case the opportunity arose to do something with it.

"Oh yeah, keep sucking slut." Vincent moaned and reached for one of her tits.

**

London, UK

**

Tony Marinetti sat at the comfortable chair on the table that breakfast was being served on. His legs crossed, sipping on black coffee and glancing at some data on his laptop. Emily Van Woven was preparing some freshly baked croissants in the oven and was chopping up some fruit for a platter, choosing them carefully as she knew the ones Tony liked and the ones he despised, although she was of the much opposed opinion that all fruit are nice. In the background of the white kitchen was Mozart, playing his finest melodies and allowing the two people to appreciate his genius.

Tony heard the tapping of footsteps and glanced at the person entering the kitchen. Eleanor Vicenti looked gorgeous as she swayed to the table and taking a seat, smiled at her son. Her hair was tussled and long and only wearing a white shirt that complimented her angelic features and was way too large on her as it belonged to Tony. The top three buttons were undone and Tony stole at the impressive cleavage presented to him. His eyes followed the trail of love bites he left on his mother, which were dark and obvious. She would have to cover them with thick make-up, and Tony smirked, at which Eleanor raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. But the intense stare from her son caused her to flush and her nipples began hardening against the fine material of the shirt, much to Tony's happiness.

"Good morning."

Tony's teasing and confident manner was obvious in the tone, and after what he did to Eleanor last night, literally fucking her into a black-out, she let him enjoy the morning after.

"Morning." Eleanor replied playfully, putting her arms together and teasing Tony with the power of her tits.

Emily observed the interesting encounter and was quite simply shocked. Tony had never before allowed one of his nightly playthings to join breakfast, never mind even seeing another room except for his, yet here was a very beautiful woman teasing and joking around with him like she couldn't believe was possible, as if the two knew each other for years. That was not possible, as Emily noted the woman, who was now sitting cross legged on the chair and was tying her hair up in a seducing bun, was clearly older than him by a few years at least. Emily guessed her to be the same age as her, or possibly slightly older too.

"Have whatever is on the table, and if you're not in the mood for what's on offer, you can always ask Emily over there to scramble you whatever you like, she's an incredible chef, if not the best in the world." Tony smiled at the cook behind the counter who returned it affectionately.

Eleanor glanced at the woman too, analysing every detail about her. She noticed that she looked different in real life, slightly older but still beautiful for her age. She had glowing skin and a trim body, although the evidently coloured hair seemed to cause the poor lady some stress at night. She had a pretty face too, but ruled that Emily was no match to her.

Eleanor Vicenti stood up and walked over to Emily, extending her hand and affectionately smiling at the chef. "It is an incredible honour to meet you Ms. Van Woven, you are an inspiration."

Emily, caught slightly off-guard by the greeting and the fact that she was known by this woman, accepted the handshake. "Well thank you so much, unfortunately I am not sure whether we met before?"

"I don't think we have, I'm Eleanor Vicenti."

At the mention of the name, Emily's eyes widened from shock and she couldn't help but gawk at Tony, who smiled at the interaction.

"You're kidding." Emily tried to keep it together, but those few seconds of her losing it were crucial and her inner fan was obviously now out in the open. "My apologies for not recognising you at first madam."

Eleanor giggled, flattered. "Emily is fine, I hope Tony is treating you accordingly I hope."

Emily glanced again at the handsome man who observed the two woman as if they were the most exciting movie ever made. "Yeah, he's a good man."

"Well I'm glad to know that he is appreciated by such an incredible woman like you." Eleanor said softly, her smile meeting her eyes.

Emily blushed firmly. She still couldn't comprehend the fact that she was in the same room as the incredible Eleanor Vicenti, her role model. She didn't know where to look, and so settled back on watching the croissants baking in the oven.

Tony sensed a certain amount of pride flushing through his body as he observed his mother switch smoothly from playful to professional. She was incredible and he knew already, he was falling for her with every second he spent with her. She wasn't his mother, but slowly becoming his woman, and despite the lack of discussion the two required to commence, both felt and knew that this was imminent and inevitable.

He continued sipping on the black coffee and averted his attention to the news, waiting for an important decision in the parliament to take place. Depending on their vote, he may need to take precautions for certain movements of products. So he patiently awaited the decision. Tony Marinetti had plans for both outcomes and his prediction skills one in a million, as he sharply anticipated every possible scenario, mitigated and adapted, cutting his losses and expanding the profits. That is how he become the only important player in this game, and why he became so infamously feared. Tony Marinetti did not adapt the nickname "Keiser" for nothing, he owned up to the reputation and delivered more than anyone expected. He was the unpredictable with the power, influence and ruthlessness to do whatever he desired. A true king.

"We need to talk." Eleanor said as she sat back on the chair at the opposing end of the table from Tony.

She reached for a cigarette, placed it between her luscious lips and began looking for a lighter but in avail. Tony was swift in the movement as he pulled a jet-lighter from his pocket and lit the smoke for her, their eye contact intense.

"We do, but after breakfast and in my office." He simply replied, grabbing a Marlboro for himself and smoking it.

"But what I currently crave isn't on the table." Eleanor smiled teasingly.

Tony understood the message, but instead of obliging, he resisted his mother's charm and averted his vision from her explicit cleavage back to the news, controlling his mind like he controlled every other aspect in his life.

"Maybe I can serve what you want after our talk." He spoke coldly.

At that exact moment, Eleanor realised something about her son. An important issue or situation would always come before his own needs. That is what made him so successful, his skill to prioritise efficiently and putting the interest of the organisation above his personal was an attribute not many could claim. She had to admit that not even she would be able to execute such a decision. And that was fine, as she was human. This of course meant that the man sitting opposite her, sipping on the coffee so casually, had little humanity in him and was capable of things she couldn't even imagine. A true monster, and that very thought scared her partially, but turned her on more and attracted her to him. She felt her pussy juices begin to flow and she bit her lip, her heart aching for him despite being so near to him. 'What did I get myself into', she thought.

**

Heathrow Airport, London, UK

**

Vanessa was exhausted from the long flight and couldn't wait to see the comfortable bed in the Westminster Suite of the Marriott Hotel in County Hall. It oversaw the London Eye and River Thames with a balcony for a more dynamic experience. She knew that was the hotel her mother stayed in and planned to give her a ring after catching up on sleep and freshening up.

In order to stay comfortable, she wore leggings, an oversized sweater and Nike airs. It wasn't the most shiny outfit ever, but her curvaceous body was obvious no matter the type of clothes she put on, which gotten her unwanted views from men who looked like dogs, and females who appeared ready to cut her throat. But Vanessa was not bothered in the slightest, as she knew that with only one phone call she could make her parents buy out the airport and expel every single one of the travellers here. However, Vanessa had more heart than that, or so she liked to believe.

After passing Passport control, where she answered more questions than necessary, she went straight to the exit and looked for the sign that had the name "Maria Armano" written on it. Her surname was known, and so her parents had taught her from the very first flight she caught alone to always use a pseudonym, as she never knew from which corners enemies would crawl from and devise an attack. It was these precautions that kept them safe for so long in their line of profession.

Her chauffeur was nothing like she expected, way younger and bulkier. Her alertness was raised briefly, before she saw him smile in her direction. She guardedly approached the man.

"Ms. Armano?" The man spoke with a deep voice.

"That's me." She smiled awkwardly at him.

"I'm Eliot, your driver during your stay here in London. This way madam, your luggage is already in the car." He said and began exiting the airport to the car park, leading the way.

Vanessa's instincts were acting up, she didn't know why as no one knew she would be landing tonight under a fake name too. Yet she couldn't rest.

**

London, UK

**

Tony Marinetti plummeted heavily down on the leather chair behind the traditional wooden desk he had hand-made in Italy, the letters TM engraved in gold on the side. Eleanor Vicenti sat a leather sofa that matched the interior of the room, while glancing around the office of 'Der Keiser'. It was neat. There were no unnecessary items anywhere, no spare pens lying around the desk or an ashtray with dead buds. He kept everything minimal. She stared at the large TV behind him and wondered what he used that for, before settling on the reasonable assumption that he must observe the cameras from here.

"Tony," Eleanor began sharply, her manners becoming professional and business-like. "When I came to London to meet with you, I didn't expect things to go so-" She glanced at him, bit her lip and chose the next words carefully. "So south."