A Mafia Family Ch. 03

"Keep the change, my friend."

"Grazie signor." The owner stated and smiled, happy to have made a profit of 80 dollars.

Tony Marinetti opened the door to the Tagore and welcomed the air conditioning of the expensive car, leaning back in the seat and feeling the cool air drying the sweat off the skin. He cooled down for a minute. New York heat was something else, that was for sure. It was thick in the air, extremely humid and no fun at all. It was scorching torture. He decided to take his 100% Italian suit jacket off, neatly placed it on the seat next to him and opened the top button of his crisp white shirt, allowing the tie to drip a little lower. Feeling more comfortable, he took one of the brown boxes and knocked on the glass divider between the front and back seats.

The tainted glass slowly sank and the face of his driver appeared in the back mirror. He nodded at the Keiser and spoke in Italian. "How can I help sir."

"At the moment, just take me back to the Four Seasons Enzo, and in the meantime you can munch on this pizza slice considered the best New Yorker since 1966 apparently."

Enzo the driver chuckled. He thanked his boss for the box and couldn't help himself from sharing the amusing fact. "You know this place has been open for just under 6 months, right boss?"

Tony scowled and glanced out the window back into the Italian walk in restaurant and precisely at the owner behind the till, looking out for the next customer.

"Fucking scammers."

Enzo chuckled again and the two bit into their slices simultaneously, enjoying the greasy food New York had to offer.

The traffic was worse than London's, Tony decided. It was havoc. Cars did not follow motoring laws. Drivers just passed wherever they could, no regards to lanes or zebra crossings. Traffic lights were their bibles. It was crazy. Tony didn't know why he was so in shock. He killed people in his profession, trafficked drugs in return for a salary and paid politicians for unfair favours. Yet this astonished him.

Tony had finished the slice, tossing the crust back into the box and closing it, dropping it next to his legs. He reached for the tin box in his suit jacket on the other seat and fondled a cigarette out, lighting it instantly. He smoked. Enjoying every breath dirtied with smoke, the touch of the bud between his fingers and the soft burn at the back of his throat. Then there was the exhale, the smoke surrounding him. It was art. An act of class that survived time, forever part of history and certainly in Tony's future.

It took them a solid 90 minutes until the beautiful Tahoe halted in front of the Four Seasons hotel, a valet firmly opening the jet black door of the SUV and allowing Tony to step out. Tony nodded to the man and slipped him a few notes of cash.

The Four Seasons was exquisite, Tony must admit; shiny marble covered the entire entrance leading up to the reception area, behind which two beautiful women offered their help to the customers. What Marinetti liked about this place of stay was that not many had access to it; prices inflated and interior not intended for family visits. It was for bachelors and bachelorettes, young entrepreneurs or rich couples. A cluster of elites. Tony enjoyed the sense and atmosphere of professionalism that accompanied such an audience.

He nodded to the receptionist, who briefly glanced at him then back to the elderly gentleman she was serving, and called the lift. Waiting for it, he thoughtlessly checked his phone. No message. His upper lip twitched with frustration and he pocketed the device again. It took far too long, he thought. The information should have been with him a few hours ago already. What was Ray doing.

The interior of the elevator encompassed a four-walled mirror, a box of buttons - up to 45 floors - lit up in sapphire and the floor was colour in a sparkly gold, as was the ceiling. He pressed the button for the TY Warner Penthouse on the top floor and the black display flashed red. Tony swiped his key card and the flashing turned into green and the doors closed shut imminently.

Vivaldi was playing vividly in the background, at a quiet and sensible volume, through the speakers and Tony appreciated it. Unaware, he absentmindedly toyed with a cigarette bud, rolling it between his fingers and squeezing it between the index and thumb. He wasn't nervous, just anticipating the arrival of crucial information. He had come to New York with one move in mind. One play that he was certain will bring the Vicentis to their knees. If the message he was so anxiously waiting for wouldn't consist of what he required, than he must think up a complete new strategy. That wouldn't be a problem for a strategist and chess player like Tony, but he nevertheless did not want to give up on the best move possible.

The heavy doors glided against the metal wheels and opened, the reception of the penthouse emerging behind the gold doors. Tony palmed his forehead and entered the expensive stay sighing. He threw the jacket over the arm of a leather chair, ridden the black tie and unbuttoned two more of his slim-fit shirt's buttons. It hugged his muscular frame and the size of his arms, the width of the shoulders and the tough chest combined with the narrow waist truly made him appear superior. His hand went through the thickness of his hair, pulling it back, and he fixed himself a cold whiskey on the rocks. Still squeezing a brown cigarette bud, he sipped on the alcohol, feeling it flush his system, and gazed out the high windows permitting an incredible and luxurious view of the skyscrapers that landmarked New York City.

Impressive, Tony thought. There was beauty among the chaos. That was New York. Not for the many, but the few for the view.

A vibration interrupted his thoughts. He reached for the phone and quickly read the message. It took his eyes mere seconds to skim read it and when he reached the final full stop, he chuckled out loudly. He held the whiskey glass up in the air and smiled devilish.

"Cheers to you New York, the big apple of opportunities." He clanked the glass against the multi-glazed window and downed the liquid. "My very own Queen."

**

The clock struck 9pm. It was a Saturday night, people were out and the streets were experiencing a flooding of mass alcoholics ready to club all night long, until the crack of dawn and beyond. From underpaid teachers to underage students, from loners to jocks, rich to poor. Saturday night didn't discriminate. It welcomed everyone of all backgrounds, as long as the cash for the drinks were advanced. Surely a few brawls will explode too.

Tony had changed suits. This time he wore an all black suit, shiny Italian shoes with a clean leather belt and a very dark blue shirt, which he had tucked in and unbuttoned enough to allow a sneak peek at his inked muscular chest. A scripture. A verse from the bible.

His thick black hair was slicked back in a messy way and he looked his age of twenty-something year old. He looked and smelled expensive. He slipped a gold ring with a black stone on his pinkie finger, an Omega around his wrist and the tin box of expensive cigarettes on the inner pocket of his jacket right across his heart. Not forgetting the most important part tool - perhaps the one with the most value in his life - the clean Beretta.

From the time he entered the penthouse until now, he had taken apart the sleek gun, which had caused the deaths of countless men, cleaned it, brushed it, wiped it with a specific material and put it back together. He treasured it.

Tony Marinetti called for the lift by pressing the button and pinged a message to Enzo, his driver. The ride down was far quicker than the ride up earlier, certainly felt so. He stepped across the spacious and luxurious reception area, two new females now behind the desk, clearly working the night shifts, their eyes trailing on Tony Marinetti and his large frame.

It was a quick transaction. From the spinning doors straight into the open door of the Tahoe held open by Enzo in leather gloves.

"Where to boss?"

"Club Brass." Tony stated nonchalantly, glancing out the window and placing his chin on the palm of the hand.

No reply from the driver, the tinted glass acting as a divider rose up and quietness enveloped the large backroom of the SUV that was covered in bulletproof windows and metal, as well as equipped with tires that could resist the shot of a bullet or two. It was completely illegal and not registered with the authorities. But not like a man whose profession was like Tony's would care. That was the least of his worries.

The journey was quick, considering the high-end club was located in Manhattan and only a few blocks away from the Four Seasons that Tony was staying at. The city looked different at night. The skyscrapers appeared taller and more impressive, the lights adding a unique charm to the streets and a new atmosphere rolled out onto the roads. It was a different experience and Tony liked it. If he didn't love London as much, he may consider to relocate. He certainly understood why this is considered one of the greatest cities in the world. The city that never sleeps.

For a few minutes, and only for a few, Tony imagined a life where he would relocate to New York, continue heading his organisation from North America and with Eleanor Vicenti by his side, perhaps attain more key locations on the map and maximise influence. Eleanor. He thought what it would be like to stay in the same city as his mother - the endless opportunities that came with such an idea. Perhaps they could arrange for weekend getaways. Somewhere away from the noise and closer to the nature and wild animals - become animals themselves. He imagined his mother's naked body, slightly covered by a duvet but most of her petite backside visible to him. The sun sneaking through the blinds and birds twitching. He would cuddle up to her, turn her over and wake her up with the wetness of his tongue, pleasurable pain of bites and the luscious love of kisses. He would kiss her pussy a million times until he felt her orgasm, gripping his hair and head tightly, moving her lower body to accommodate the length of his tongue, moaning his name out loud. And then he would slowly pull himself up, facing the gorgeous emerald eyes of his mother, squeezing her nipples and feeling her tiny hand guiding his enraged dick into the deepest part of her - welcoming him into her tightness. He would-

"Boss, we've arrived."

Tony's eyes studied the queue of people waiting impatiently outside the club, dressed in all sorts of crazy clothing. The Tahoe stopped right in front of the VIP section and a security guard opened the door for Tony.

"How many sir?"

"Just myself." Tony replied.

The security guard nodded and shut the door, leading Tony past the people and straight past the VIP gates. He didn't get checked and was ushered into the club straight away.

Club Brass was an expensive entertainment hub. It certainly was pricey, but it offered a unique experience in return. Spanning across two floors, the club was divided into two sections. The bottom floor was the dance area, where the actual clubbing took place. The floor upstairs was an area that was slightly more of elite nature, and cosy, a lounge with a calmer vibe yet a hint of a wild side. Suits gathered up here. More importantly girls who sought attention from powerful figures played up there, looking to become submitted.

It wasn't access to everyone, and Tony made sure he wasn't questioned by anybody when entering the upstairs lounge. It was fairly busy considering it had just passed 10pm. Several suits were sitting on sofas in the corner, some danced casually and calmly in the opposite corners along to the sounds of the vinyl records. Waitresses were walking up and down, between tables and people, remembering drinks and faces, no room for a single mistake.

Tony leaned against the bar and caught the attention of the bartender who instantly came over to serve Tony - no wonder, considering he looked like a million dollars. "What can I get you?"

"A place." Tony replied swiftly.

"A place? Never heard of such a beverage. How do you mix it, I can try make it for ya."

"The place where I can find Lucia Amani." Tony stared at the eyes of the bartender. He was big, huge arms, and Tony guessed him to have been an American footballer in the past. From the crookedness of the nose, he also had a history of fights.

"Don't know nobody called that."

Tony smiled. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie." He shook his head. "Let me tell you how this will unfold between us." Tony lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before speaking. "I will tell you about yourself, that you are Charlie Hernandez, an ex-college football quarterback who dropped out after suffering from a classic knee injury that never really healed. You couldn't handle the burst of your dream and so you dropped out, disappeared, and not even your poor mother and grandmother know what shithole you vanished into." Tony paused again, exhaling a cloud of crystal smoke. He casually continued smoking, ignoring the clearly irritated and red-faced bartender. He prepared for the blow. "Must've been hard though," Tony's eyes levelled a cold stare at Charlie. "being the reason your grandmother died in that filthy house of theirs."

Tony knew it was coming. The fist swung powerfully across the bar but Tony had avoided it with ease. The next fist made contact, a loud screech hauled the room. He had punched the fucking concrete and it seemed fine, although bruised. Tony pulled the Beretta out and sliding it just over the tip of the bar, pointed at the bartender. He gazed coldly.

"Now let's start again and you better be smart about this. Tell me what I need to know otherwise it'll be your mother next."

Charlie's eyes widened, the horrific images clearly flicking through his mind. He turned his head away from the stare Tony was still subjecting him under. He faced away in defeat.

"She comes around midnight, her and this girl clique, usually pick a man of their choosing and go home with them for a few hours, only for the gentlemen to wake up missing their expensive watches and wads of cash."

Tony smiled widely. He let go of Charlie, unobtrusively slipped his gun into the shoulder holster and stepped away from the bar. "Whiskey, on the rocks." He said before taking the cigarette from between his lips, tapping the ash away and smoking it again.

"Motherfucker." Charlie muttered and turned around to get Tony the drink he much deserved.

Tony Marinetti waited patiently by the large window sills. He swirled the contents of the glass casually and studied the streets outside Club Brass. He was deep in thoughts when loud female voices travelled across the lounge. He turned his head briefly and saw three girls in slutty dresses almost showing the curves of their asses, giggling and gossiping loudly, clearly making a scene and creating attention for themselves. They were making sure that everyone noticed them and whomever liked one of them would come up and offer them a drink. The poor men in the lounge, they were trapped from the very beginning. Tony turned his head again and continued gazing out the window.

He continued thinking. His surrounding swallowed into a big hole of blackness. He focused on himself, standing firmly and calmly on a chess board, he was the King and next to him was Eleanor, the fury in her posture mimicking his very own. Across from them were Vincent and his father, looking less optimistic and their pawns were all over the place whereas Tony had set up an attacking force ready for an immediate defence. He imagined the moves Vincent would carry out - the ones he had the balls to - he evaluated the man, what was he willing to do and what was the price?

"Why are you here if the only thing you are going to do is stare out the window."

Tony came back to reality. The voice was soft and smooth, spoken with authority. He signed and saw Lucia Amani in the reflection of the window. He studied her for a second, his eyes rolling over her distinct features, including her big brown eyes, pale upper-chest and busty cleavage she was teasing to every male in the room. She had toned legs and her posture was one of strength. She knew how to carry herself, probably the result of a sport she was an avid participant in since a very young age. Ballet? No, her thighs were too thick. Tennis, Tony concluded, eyeing her meaty legs and clearly curvy back.

"You can be in a room full of people but sometimes your own company trumps everyone's in the room."

Lucia rolled her eyes. "Philosophy is lame." She said and took an empty arm-chair, crossing her legs sensually.

Tony turned around and met the eyes of his prey. Her platinum blonde indicated a rebellious nature and the 6-inch sex-heels she had on her feet confirmed a slutty behavioural trait. As soon as he met her stare, he saw her cheeks and neck blushing. She had no chance from the very beginning.

Tony Marinetti continued playing Lucia Vicenti, full Prince of Darkness mode, playing the mysterious and obviously rich gentleman. He was dominating her throughout and it wasn't long until the pair were making out furiously in the backseat of the Tahoe, Enzo navigating the car around the busy streets of the city.

Tony held Lucia by her throat, gathered her long hair into a fistful and brought her head down onto his already exposed dick.

"Fuck, I've never had one this big." Lucia muttered before opening her mouth and licking the tip.

Tony forced the pretty mouth of Lucia's down his enraged dick, feeling the back of her mouth and entering her throat. He heard her gag and he twitched inside her. "Damn," Tony whispered.

Lucia's eyes twinkled as they met Tony's very own lustful pair. She smiled, popped his dick out of her mouth and slapped it across her cheek. "You haven't seen anything yet." She teased and deep throated him once again, tony holding her hair in a ponytail.

He pulled on it and Lucia resurfaced. He kissed her fiercely, their tongues at war, and firmly ripped her dress down to expose her tits and hard nipples. Tony guessed them to be c-cup - a good handful - and he squeezed them, biting Lucia's neck and his other hand travelling down to the heat between her legs. She happily obliged and opened her legs for him. Before the two could go any further, they felt the car stop and knew it was time to get out.

Tony slipped his cock back behind concrete walls and took his jacket off, putting it on Lucia's shoulders so her firm tits wouldn't be exposed to the world. The hopped out, hands entangled. Tony snapped his head and noticed a sleek black wagon parked on the opposite curb his eyes narrowed. They swiftly entered the lobby and crossing to the lifts. The wait seemed to take an eternity. He squeezed her hand sternly, pushing Lucia in front of him and she knew exactly what to do, pressing her hands against the metal doors of the elevator and arching her back, pushing her curvy ass against his front. A bloody tease she was.

The lift came and they hurriedly entered. Tony swiped the key card once again and pressed the button for the 45th floor. Before the doors screeched closed, Tony glanced at the receptionist, who behind her spectacles was looking at the pair with a shocking expression, her mouth agape and somehow Tony could sense she was turned on by the act.

He smiled and winked at her until the doors completely shut, and then Lucia was all over him again. Despite the 6-inch hooker heels, she wasn't even close to his huge frame and he bent down a little to meet her lips. Irritated at the fact, he grabbed Lucia by her toned thighs and easily picked her up. She obliged by wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck and embracing his tongue. He bit down on the lower lip and he felt a moan escape her throat.