Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

"I will also bring a new thing to your attention, miss VanBurren." Marco brushed his hair back unnecessarily because every single strand on his head was sitting perfectly in place, no doubt from all the sustainably packaged organic vegan gluten free cruelty free silicone free hair gel he would use every day. The company he bought it from would plant a tree with every purchase.

Unbelievably the man would move thousands of bodies across continents per day but he was worried about his hair's carbon footprint.

"Which is what?"

"You would be my leading manager in the UK. Everything that's done here would be monitored by you." He said this as if I was supposed to be impressed. I mean, I would have been, if I was actually Isabella VanBurren and not his blood borne rival.

"You plan to expand your operations here?"

"In time, that is the goal."

He was stupid. So incredibly stupid.

"The UK is Montenegro territory. If you trespass, they will see it as a declaration of war."

"I doubt Salvador has found someone as skilled as Katarina to handle the shipping business." He stroked his chin like he was pondering something super interesting. I would have been flattered if he wasn't actively baiting me. "With the gap she has left, we can move into the territory undetected."

"What makes you assume they haven't already found a replacement for her?"

Marco shrugged with a wry smile hidden in the depths of his eyes. His overall expression remained impassive even if he was anything but. He was constantly scheming. "Intuition."

"Why are you telling me this?" I half raised an eyebrow at him, as far as my botoxed forehead would allow. "Even if I was to accept your offer, I still work for the Montenegro family. You are taking a big risk."

"I believe that you are a woman of reason, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now." He smirked at me and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in the process. My heart began to thump wildly in my c.h.e.s.t and a strange heat began to creep up my torso. I was nervous. Because he knew more than he let on. "Am I wrong?'

"What if I want to sabotage your plan?" His smirk widened, almost like he was daring me. "You do not know me, Monsieur DiBiancci, I could be your worst enemy."

"I'm doing this for love, Miss VanBurren. Katarina always inspired me to do my best and achieve my full potential. She was my biggest fan."

His stupid smirk was infuriating me. I wanted to reach across the table and f.u.c.k.i.n.g throttle him. Scalp him, even.

If there was one thing Marco had succeeded at during the time I was with him, it was manipulating me by pissing me off. Considering Isabella's personality, I expected that he counted on me to blab about what he had said. I didn't exactly know what his tactic was, but I did know that his main goal was luring me out of hiding.

I had to tread lightly.

"Monsieur DiBiancci, what will you do once Monsieur Montenegro inevitably catches wind of this?"

"He won't."

"How can you be sure?" My challenging gaze seemed to convey my message loud and clear because he stopped to assess me slowly. From top to bottom.

He didn't say anything to me, either because he was still thinking on how to respond or because he didn't want to let anything slip in front of the waiter who had now returned with our plates.

Looking down at the food served to us, I was a bit weary to even try the meal sitting before me. The dish looked appetizing, but the scent coming off of it was lacking. I was by no means a culinary genius with a special nose type deal, but even a novice could acknowledge that there wasn't an attractive scent to the food. In fact, there was no scent at all. It just smelled like steamed cabbage.

"If I may please recommend our in house craft beer made with only premium organic barley and other grains." The waiter shifted nervously on his feet, like he was used to getting rejected on the beer pitch. This situation would be no different. "A lady as refined as yourself would surely be fond of an Irish red ale?"

I looked at my sparkling water, a newfound Isabella VanBurren signature drink for business proposals. Katarina Montenegro hated drinking sparkling water, but Isabella VanBurren liked to keep a clear mind and the odd tasting drink helped her do just that.

"I already have a drink, thank you." Just like that, I dismissed the waiter and his ridiculous craft beer. "And just in case you see my face in the future, I don't like beer."

"Right." The waiter apologised clumsily and turned to Marco, trying to gauge his willingness for beer. "What about you, sir? You look like an Amber ale gentleman."

I already knew Marco wouldn't go for the beer. After all, he was a professional in a business meeting. He had his family name on his shoulders. If he failed, so did all the DiBiancci's, and they would be tainted forever.

"Sure, why not. It'll wash down this food nicely."

And I stood corrected.

Once again, Marco DiBiancci proved to be a careless twat capable of nothing except excelling in his own selfishness. The man had a degree in screwing people over. Still, I wouldn't say anything worthy of contention.

"Well? What are you waiting for, go get me that beer!"

I jumped lightly in my seat as he snapped at the nervous waiter with an angry tone. The young man himself looked like he was about to piss himself, but I held little to no sympathy for someone trying to push craft beer down my throat. If he'd said artisanal, I would've been nicer.

Pompous asses.

"You really didn't have to yell at the garçon." I reprimanded while cutting into my food. Already the beef on the plate proved to be a tough bite. Was this tendon or what? "The poor lad is simply trying to do his job, non?"

"He was a nuisance." Marco also began to cut into his food. "Anyway, as we were saying, miss VanBurren."

"Right, when Salvador catches you and hunts you down to kill you." That begged another question in my mind. "Why haven't you killed each other yet?"

"Killed each other how?"

"Monsieur Montenegro has not attacked anyone in your family, yes?"

"He hasn't."

"Why not? You say you are mortal enemies but you seem to leave each other alone."

Marco sighed dramatically, like he was dreading explaining our family's rival dynamic to me. I didn't want to press him for answers either, seeing as I already knew them.

"Our rivalry dates back generations. At first our predecessors did have it out literally, trying to kill each other and such, but as each successor came along the fight became more about control."

"Over territory?"

"Partly."

I knew all this already, but he wasn't telling me what I needed to know.

"So then tell me, Monsieur DiBiancci." I cut into the tough meat with all my strength. "What is your plan? Why even come to the UK?"

"I need to know that you're on board first."

Oh my goooooooddddd

"Yeah yeah, I'm on board. Do I need to sign a contract or something?" With the complete willingness to do so, I looked around the room for a contract to possibly sign. Nothing so far.

"No need, this entire meeting has been recorded." He popped a bite of food into his mouth like he hadn't just dropped a huge bomb on me. What the f.u.c.k was I meant to do now? I'd just sold my soul to the devil and I couldn't make up an excuse.

Not that I was planning to anyway. Excuses don't work in the mob world.

"Like audio recorded or video recorded?" My question came tentatively. The big man smiled at me casually in response.

"Both. Now, to answer your question, I don't really have a plan, more like an idea." He put down his utensils and looked me square in the eyes. "We're going to intercept all his drug shipments and take over his hemisphere one step at a time."

Son of a bitch.