Mafia Feud: Trapped with the Witty Mafia Don

In a dimly lit room was Rico, clad in a sharp black suit, lounged in his chair. His boots were on the desk, and a cigarette dangled between his fingers. Smoke curled through the corners as his eyes stood wide-cold and calculating.

The door pushed open; Peter, his lead thug, shoved Chloe Martins towards him. She stumbled but quickly regained her footing, her fist clenched at her side.

 “What the hell is this? You have no right-” She seethed, her veins throbbing on her forehead.

   “You may go; shut the door behind you,” He said, turning to Chloe, a smirk playing on his lips.

Chloe exhaled sharply, scanning the room for exits.     “If this is some sort of twisted game, you had better -” he interrupted. His chin high as he stood tall, legs spread wide.    

“Oh, it's not a game, sweetheart. "You are mine now.” He leaned forward, whispering a threat that made her scoff.  A brief laugh escaped her lips.  

 “Belong to you, her eyes narrowed, squinting as her face tightened. "That's funny. "You might have goons, but I have the law on my side.” Her head tilted back as she spoke boisterously.

   “Law? That's cute."Your father thought the same thing before he ended up in prison.”

Chloe's expression falters-just for a second. Rico stared mischievously, swirling his glass of whiskey. She's quiet but firm.  

 “My father is in prison because of a corrupt system.” She finally choked out — defiantly like as though she's been trying not to say it.  

 “Oh, is that what he told you? His eyes widened in mockery, but she waved it off; her body collapsing into herself.   

 "That he was an innocent business owner? "?That he didn't betray my family?" A gleam in his eyes and a booming laugh erupted from his mouth. Chloe swallowed hard, pressing her lips firmly.

   “I don't know what you think he did, but I've got nothing to do with it.” She gestured with a hand, skin bunched around her, a pained stare. Her other hand drove through her silk blonde hair. Her knuckles cracking. Rico smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. He walked to his dad's photograph, which was hanging on the wall. His fingers brushed against the dust that surrounded it, his grip on the frame firm, lingering as though his touch would bring him back.  

He turned slowly to Chloe. “I lost a father because of your dad.” His eyes grew feverish, an overly bright darting gaze. His fingers twitched, his neck stiff with a strained forearm. Chloe stood mute, head tilted back as she pursed her lips. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she squeezed her eyes tight. She let out a frustrating sigh.

 “Your dad betrayed my father, and until we sort this out, you go nowhere!” Rico snapped, his nostrils flared, holding the elbows wide from his body-shoulders thrust out.  

 She exhales softly, this time her voice calm.    “My dad is in prison," she said in a choked voice, her eyes wet and her neck bent slightly. "His legacy and empire is on my shoulders… But I don't want any of it. I would rather not be caught up in this whole mess.” She pinched her lips together, her neck corded as her breath came out in loud gasps.

Rico stood scowling, his arms crossed. A jutting chin and a narrowed eye with intense focus on Chloe.   “My flight is tomorrow, and I'm leaving to pursue my career as a lawyer. Away from the noise, away from the money and at least get a chance to love and live comfortably.” Her eyes widened, yet brows furrowed. She swallowed hard, lowering her head, but her neck appeared to shrink. With a trembling chin, hunching over as if choking down a sob.    

Rico's gaze shifted from Chloe to his wooden drawer. He pulled in before slowly releasing a deep breath. He tossed a white envelope to Chloe. His eyes probing directly at her.   “You have the chance to rewrite your father's wrongs. His jaw tightened, "That's the pen, sign the document and walk through that door peacefully.”

   Chloe stepped back a little; his eyes widened. A soft breeze blew beneath her feet, sending a creepy sensation to the hairs at her nape. Her gaze shifted to Rico, who flashed a smile; something dark lingering from behind. Holding the document, she swallowed hard. The grip of the pen in her hand stood firm, but her fingers betrayed her like a putrid odor carrying a stench of gunpowder and old blood.  

 “And if I refuse?” She finally choked. Her eyes running in circles -deliberate, calculating. Rico reached into his jacket, pulled out his gun, and cocked it. “Then I will make sure you never get the chance to refuse again.” Her breath hitched as the document slipped out of her hand.

   “Dro..p the gun.” Her voice was calm, her pulse unsteady, sending shivers down her spine.  

 “Shut up! You don't get to tell me what to do, I make the d*mn rules and you follow. Is that understood?” 

   “Yes, yes.” Fidgeting, her skin closing in. The night was starting to get creepy. Gesturing towards a nearby chair, he instructed her to sit; lowering the gun with a smirk on his lips. Chloe hesitated, then moved to the chair, her heart racing. He lowered his neck to her size.

“Sweetheart, you better cooperate."  She pressed a tight smile, but her fingers trailed at the back of the chair. Slowly. Softly. Searching for something. Anything, just anything to defend, to escape his grip. But the tension grew, his eyes not leaving hers. Silence fills the room. Both parties remained calm before Rico finally spoke.  

 “Now sign the document.” He winced at Chloe, arms loosed at the sides, taking up space to make her feel small. To intimidate.

 “An ownership form bearing my father's company.” She read the subject line, shuffling back a step.  

 “Yes.” That's the only way you can set things right. "You get it?” He tapped his foot. His patience was wearing thin.    She swallowed hard, a soft grin playing on her lips. Her eyebrows raised as her head tilted to the wall.  

 “Over there, I see something.” She pointed.    “What?” He turned to look.     Swiftly, she knocked off the gun which lay on the wooden surface, sending a kick forcefully to the table. She stood firm, her heart beating-two hands kept in position, ready to fight.  

 “Wow!” You're really tough, you know. "Never knew you'd got some fighting skills.

"I bet you took martial arts really seriously this time." He gave an incredulous stare, jerking his head back as he shuffled back a step.  

 "You never know.” She smacked, flicking her hand in front of her nose as if trying to get rid of a bad smell before positioning herself, an ugly twist on her mouth. Waiting. Ready to fight. He nodded, clapping his hands in applause. His feet took cautious steps closer. A smirk on his lips. His eyes darted to the spot on which the gun laid and back to Chloe.  

 “Come on. Face me. You coward! She scoffed. You think you can make me lick your butt like a fool!…. There, you got it wrong.” Her chin high and a leg that planted wide; baring her teeth.    And with a dominant force, he lunged towards her, but she attacked, maneuvering him to the other side. Her other leg kicked the gun farther from reach. Rico let out a punch, but she jabbed it, twisting his hand to the other side. He groaned, then pulled out of her grip, moving towards the gun.    

Chloe's gaze flickered round the place, her heart racing; he was getting closer to the gun. His smirk sent shivers down her spine.    Finally, her gaze landed on the door. And without thinking, she dashed into the room, twisting the doorknob lock. Her breath pounding beneath her chest. She rested on the door. His loud echoes from outside made her gasp louder.    

“Sh*t!.” He let out, running his hand through his hair. His jaw tightened into his fist as he paced restlessly. Stamping and yelling; signaling the attention of his thugs.    

“Open the gat d*mn door!” He banged, his fist tight; fingers retracted, turning claw-like.     

“Get away! "I'm not doing this with you,” she fired back.    

“I see you've got yourself cooked for this.

"Alright then, I'm ready.” His veins throbbed as his neck corded with his spittle flying while he yelled. A tightness in his face, skin stretched into a snarl. And with that, he bolted the door from outside. A wicked grin playing across his lips. A mouth that curled with rage. Sneering. Cursing. Swearing.    

“Enjoy your new room. His body tensed, almost on the verge of springing. I hope you love your new bed. It's pink and is your favorite. Until morning, sweetheart.”    With that, he turned to go. Pressing a brief smile before rearranging his rough suit that got squeezed because of earlier combat.

   “Get me out of here, Rico!” She yelled, banging on the door.    

“Cry a river, baby. "They're like the sweet melodies I will need for my album.” He teased mockingly, walking towards Peter, who stood folding his hands; scanning the room for the lingering scent of her footprints or lurking shadows.  

 "Watch her."Make sure she doesn't escape, he instructed, his lungs expanding to the fullest. "We will need her tomorrow." Peter nodded, crossing his arms backwards.

"This sh*t needs to be done! Before her father comes out of prison. He snapped. Eyes glaring at Peter.

"We can't afford to lose her to any other Mafia lords. So be alert!”     He pressed his feet slightly, emphasizing his words. A satisfied smile left his face but the tension and intention stood behind-tall and foreboding, ready to fight.