Don André's House was always buzzing with activity. Usually nefarious activity, but occasionally there was loud parties with exotic dancers and expensive champagne.
At least one person ends up dead at these things. For the culture, you know?
Today is slightly busier, as the kingpin awaits his godfather's arrival.
"Extra security everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, José."
Sitting in his luxurious office, he wonders why the godfather has decided to take him by surprise.
Maybe he's thought over my proposition?
Suddenly, he hears a high pitched scream that could only have come from his daughter.
The heavy double doors were designed in a way that he could hear whatever was going on outside, but nobody could hear what happened inside.
"Get out of my way! I demand to see my father!"
Don André sighs, almost slouching in his seat.
Teenagers
"The Don refuses to have any visitors until after the godfather's visit," Lionel, one of his trusted men says, almost robotically, to the 17 year old. Perez remains silent.
"Bullshit!" Andrea yells, frustrated. "Father, I know you can hear me! Let me in or I'll hurt myself!"
As the daughter of a Don, Andrea knew not to make empty threats. If she said she was going to do something, she would. Nevermind the physical pain she may have to go through.
She got the stubbornness from her mother, that wench
Don André leans over, albeit sluggishly, and speaks into the intercom, "Let her in."
"Yes, boss."
The doors slam open less than a minute later and a Latin teen storms in like a bat from Hell.
"Where the Hell is Chris?" She grits out.
"Good morning to you too, darling," is his response.
"Cut the crap, father! He's been missing four days and I know you never liked him!"
"So you think I made him disappear?"
"I _know_ you did," she narrows her eyes at him.
"I had nothing to do with your boyfriend's death. You can go now," Don André sighs, willing her to disappear. It's seconds later he realizes exactly where he'd gone wrong.
_Oh, fuck_
Andrea stares, shell shocked as tears roll down her cheeks. " You really did it... You monster!"
He blinks owlishly, as if asking why she's so surprised.
Whatever she's about to say is lost to him, as he hears the fleet of cars roll into his house.
_He's here_
"Take her to her room. Or take her shopping. Whatever she wants," he instructs Perez.
Carefully, he doesn't meet her eyes as she throws one last filthy glare before stalking off the way she had come.
_There are more important matters to attend to._
André walks slowly and with purpose to the top of the stairwell, scanning the position of his guards. Satisfied, he makes his way downstairs and into the foyer, just as the godfather steps in.
The man, in his late 60's, was rumoured to have a Lazarus pool underneath his home. He had a spring in his step, didn't even look a day over 40.
He was always _happy_, and that irked André. One did not get to be happy in their line of work. How dare he?
Nevertheless, he snaps his fingers and six of his guards moved to flank the godfather. Had to keep up appearances after all.
"Don Antonio!" He says, with a sharp smile, bending to kiss the ring of the godfather.
"Rise, André," the old man says nonchalantly. "Tell me, how is business here in the US?"
"Splendid, godfather. We've managed to monopolize the market on drugs and weapons, and supressed all rival families," André rattles off, pleased at himself. "And back home, father?"
"Oh, Italy is most wonderful, André. We wiped out most of the Martells not so long ago," Don Antonio says with an easy smile.
"Fantastic!" André says, and he means it.
"How is your beautiful daughter?" The old crone asks as they enter the office.
Ah yes, the other reason he loathes the man. He has an unhealthy interest in his daughter. He'll die before he lets him have his way with her.
"She's alright," André says offhandedly. "A bit miffed though. I had the Fed she was dating killed, you see."
"Ah, that is rather unfortunate," Don Antonio frowns, "but you did what had to be done."
André simply smiles. Cold hearted he may be, it's nice to hear that he's not a complete failure as a father.
"Now, to the reason I'm here..."
"Oh, yes, why are you here, father?" André queries, eager.
"I've considered your proposition," Antonio says with a somewhat sly smile.
_There's a catch_
"...and?"
"You want to extend into Africa? No problem. But first, I'll need you to exterminate the last of the Martells there."
"Consider it done!" André says, rather thrilled. "How many countries are we talking?"
Don Antonio strides over to the world map on the wall. "Just one." He places a pin on Nigeria.
"Excellent," André smirks, "the exact country I intended to start with."
Don Antonio laughs, clapping his subordinate on the back. "I knew I could count on you, André!"
"Of course, father, I won't let you down," he assures, beginning to escort the godfather back out.
_I can't believe you came all the way here for that. That's why we have cell phones, old man_
"Remember Andre! There are no brothers in Mafia so Do not fuck this up." The older man says, strangely stern as he gets into his rolls Royce.
André merely offers a stiff nod.
As soon as the gates close, he seems to perk up.
"José?"
"Yes, boss?"
"Pack up. Nigeria. 24 hours."
A beat.
"And pack for Andrea too. A little heat and sunshine will be good for her."
_They won't know what hit them_