~CHAPTER 7~
ROMEO
Sitting in my home study on the top floor, surrounded by the trappings of my success. I leaned back into my leather chair, slowly taking a long drag on my cigarette as I scanned the contract proposal in front of me.
The smoke curled lazily upwards, carrying the tension in my shoulders away with it.
Running a multimillion-dollar company was no joke, and every decision I made had far-reaching consequences that could make or break empires. It was a burden I'd grown accustomed to carrying.
"Mr. Salvatore," The man before me said with caution and respect, his voice trembling slightly.
Since the moment he sat down, he'd been shaking uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.
I didn't look threatening, dressed in my tailored suit; my half-covered face was a mask of calm interest.
Yet, it seemed my popular reputation had preceded me. The man seemed to forget we were discussing a business proposal, not exchanging gunfire.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his nervousness "Si?" I dropped the paper I'd been studying and looked over to him.
My voice was low and even, a reminder that I was in control here. The man swallowed hard, his eyes moving onto mine before darting away, he didn't dare look me straight in the eyes.
"What seems to be the problem, Mr. James?" I asked, steepling my fingers together on the table. It seemed he didn't want to articulate whatever was on his mind after bringing my attention to him.
"I...I was saying that if this isn't up to your taste, we could make a new one," Mr. James stuttered out in a rush.
"We really need this contract, sir and I promise to make it right. We'll do whatever it takes to ensure your satisfaction, Mr. Salvatore." His voice trailed off, and he looked down at his feet, awaiting my response.
I studied him, intrigued by his fear. "Why do you shake, too much?" I asked with amusement.
I took another slow drag from my cigarette, savoring the moment. I had all the time in the world to play with Mr. James's mind, to toy with his fears and anxieties. "Are you that afraid of me, Mr. James?" A cruel smile spread across my face as I watched as a sweat broke out on his forehead.
"I'm not so cruel, si?" I taunted, but Mr. James didn't respond; his body was shaking like a leaf in an autumn storm.
I stood up from my chair and dropped a gun onto the table. Mr. James's eyes widened further in horror as his gaze fixed on the weapon.
"I won't say your 'proposal' wasn't surprising," I said as I walked over to the window. My footsteps echoed through the room, the only sound apart from Mr. James's ragged breathing.
"Now, Mr. James," I continued, my voice cold and detached, "I don't want to get my hands dirty, nor do I have time to waste. Do the needful." I turned away from him, my gaze drifting towards the floor-to-ceiling window that faced the garden.
The garden beyond the glass was a tranquil oasis, a place of serenity and beauty that had been carefully cultivated long before I was even born.
In fact, this entire house, with its imposing stone façade and ornate fountains, had been built by my ancestors, its walls bearing witness to generations of Salvatore family history.
But despite its ancient roots, the house had been consistently updated to incorporate the modern amenities.
It was a seamless blend of traditional elegance and contemporary sophistication and I had always found the contrast between old and new fascinating, a reflection of my own dual nature – a man with a rich heritage, yet forward-thinking and ruthless in my business dealings.
My reverie was shattered by a sudden gunshot, ringing out through the room. I smiled a coldly myself, before turning around to face the aftermath.
Mr. James's lifeless body slumped over the table, the gun now clutched in his hand. He had taken the easy way out, choosing to end his own life rather than face my wrath.
It was a good choice, one that would save him a great deal of pain and -me- my precious time.
I walked over to Mr. James's lifeless body and took a last drag before quenching my cigarette on his pale face.
I patted his head with a mock gesture of approval. "Good choice," I said before I strode out of my study, leaving the maids to clean up the mess.
Some maids were already passing by, their eyes cast downward in respect. "Boss," they chimed in unison, their voices soft and hushed as they slipped into my study.
They went about their task of cleaning up the lifeless body with an emotionless face. I didn't bother to watch as I needed to clear my head and for me, that meant descending into the depths of my torture room.
It was a place where I could let my true nature shine. A place where the mask of civility could slip and the beast beneath could roam free.
The torture room was my sanctuary, my confessional, and my playground.
I stepped into the elevator and lit a new cigarette as I waited for the elevator to reach the basement.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit corridor that led to my inner sanctum. I stepped out, ready to unleash my demons and let the darkness consume me whole.
I walked further into the hallway before turning a corner, my eyes adjusting to the dimness, and that's when I saw her - a skinny frame, barely visible in the faint light.
The pale little girl collided with me with a soft thud, but I stood tall and unmoved as I watched her crumpled to the ground.
Her skin was deathly pale, and her pure but dirty white hair seemed to swallow the faint light around her.
She reminded me of a fragile, broken doll, that was discarded and forgotten.
I had seen her before, just yesterday. She was the daughter of that insolent bastard I had killed. I recalled giving Dante instructions to take her, but I had totally forgotten about her existence until now.
My gaze roamed over her fragile form, and my eyes narrowed. What the hell was she wearing? A dirty bra and underwear were all that covered her emaciated body.
A wave of disgust washed over me before a voice interrupted my thoughts. "Boss?" Dante's voice and I turned to see him running towards me. He bowed his head slightly before turning towards the girl.
He picked her up harshly, "Stupid bitch," He threw a slap to her face, and I watched as she winced, her eyes welling up with tears while she struggled.
Her teary golden eyes locked onto mine, filled with -what-I chuckled; it was filled with a desperate plea for help.
I tilted my head to the side, a cold grin spreading across my face, who the fuck did she think I was -her savior-.
But then, her eyes hardened before she spoke, barely above a whisper. "I'd rather die than be raped."
Something within me snapped and I didn't know when my gun got out of my holster, but suddenly it was in my hand.
My finger tightened around the trigger, and I shot three times.