Vincent Castellanos's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information.
He stood up from his chair. He walked over to the window, the tension in his shoulders evident.
"How did we not see this coming?" he asked, his voice a low thunder.
Chris's expression was unreadable. "They've been playing it smart, sir," he said, his tone respectful yet firm. "They've been using intermediaries, keeping their hands clean. It's been a slow, calculated move."
Vincent Castellanos's jaw clenched. The Russians had always been a thorn in his side, but this was a declaration of war. He knew he had to act swiftly and decisively.
"Chris," he said, his voice cold and deliberate.
Chris stepped closer, his posture one of unwavering loyalty. "Yes, sir?"
Vincente turned to face him, his eyes burning with a cold fury. "We need to send a message," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "A message they will never forget."
Chris nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'll assemble the team," he said, already moving towards the door. "We'll need intel on their operations."
Vincente nodded curtly. "I want to know everything," he said, his eyes never leaving the horizon outside the window. "Their weaknesses, their alliances, their... proclivities."
Chris nodded, his expression grim. "Understood," he said, turning to leave the room. "I'll get the team on it immediately."
Vincent Castellanos watched him go.
"Chris," he called, his voice echoing in the large room.
Chris stopped at the door, turning back. "Yes, sir?"
Vincent Castellanos steepled his fingers, his eyes narrowed in thought. "I want this handled with precision," he said, his voice like a whip. "We can't afford to tip them off."
Chris nodded. "I'll start with surveillance," he said. "We need to know their every move before we make our own."
Vincent nodded, his mind racing with the details of the plan. "Use the best," he instructed. "I don't want any missteps."
Chris nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I'll deploy our top operatives," he said. "They'll be in and out before the Russians even know they're there."
Vincent's mind raced as he thought through every possible angle. "We need someone on the inside," he murmured, tapping a finger against his desk. "Someone they trust."
Chris nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. "I'll find the right person," he said, his voice steady. "Someone who can infiltrate their ranks and feed us information without arousing suspicion."
With that, Vincente gestured for him to leave the meeting room.
As the door clicked shut,
He picked up the phone and dialed a number
"Alejandro," he said, his voice tight. "Call a meeting of the capos. We have a situation."
The sun had reached its zenith by the time the meeting with the capos concluded, casting a harsh light into the room and illuminating the grim faces around the table.
The air was thick with tension and the scent of danger as the men discussed the impending conflict with the Russians. Vincente stood, gestured to his men.
"Thank you for your counsel," he said, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his most trusted advisors as well as capos "We'll reconvene tonight. Until then, be vigilant."
They finished lunch in his mafia headquarters then he left for his mansion.
It was almost evening when the sleek black Ferrari, approached the guarded gate of his mansion.
The gate swung open, and the car slipped through, the other two vehicles—his bodyguards—following by the driveway was lined with well-maintained shrubbery that led up to the sprawling mansion.
The car doors swung open and the men stepped out, hurried to open the car door for their Master.
He strode up the steps to the mansion. The massive wooden doors swung open, revealing maids in line to greet him.
They curtsied in unison, their eyes downcast, as he passed them by.
And there she was, Evangeline, standing in the middle of the vast, living room, her heart racing like a trapped bird's.
She had tried to make herself presentable, her clothes neatly pressed and her hair combed, but the fear was etched into every line of her face.
Her eyes were wide and her skin was pale. She wore a simple white dress that hung loosely from her frail frame.
Vincente Castellanos stepped into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to her.
He took in her trembling form, his gaze lingering on the bruises on her neck that still marred her neck.
His expression was unreadable as he approached her, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space.
"Evangeline," he said, his voice a low rumble.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, filled with fear.
"Sir," she managed, her voice a whisper.
He nodded curtly, gesturing for her to follow him.
He was dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretching taut over his broad shoulders.
His tie was loosened, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing his toned chest.
Her eyes trailed over him, noting the weariness etched into his features.His hair, usually meticulously styled, was slightly disheveled, a few strands falling over his forehead.
"Come" he said, his voice firm but lacking its usual edge.
Evangeline followed him upstairs to the master suite, her legs shaking with every step.
Her fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of her dress as they climbed the grand staircase.
The door to the master suite swung open. Vincente stood before her, his eyes boring into hers.
"Take off my clothes," he ordered, his voice low and authoritative.
She was shocked and scared not sure what he wanted. She was hesitating but she got closer to him.
Vincent Castellanos stood before her, his both hands in his pants pockets, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
His eyes bore into hers, a silent demand for compliance.
The scent of leather and wood filled the air,
Evangeline's heart hammered in her chest as she reached for his coat, her trembling hands slipping slightly on the fabric.
She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, watching her every move.
As she worked her way down to his coat, she noticed the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, and the way his hands flexed at his sides.