“Sorry to disturb you, Mr Hayes; the Bezumnyy Brothers are here—”
He throws a glance over his shoulder at us before continuing.
“And it seems urgent.”
I despise waiting; I feel like we are running out of time, and we are powerless because our fathers are aiming to take away all our resources. Yeah, I could simply stroll into any fucking building and start shooting cunts, but in reality, Maddox will have an army. If we are dead, who the fuck will save Charley?
Our fathers hold the reins of power within the Bratva here in NYC, but we're merely heirs, awaiting our turn and if they say no one can help us, no one will, unless you're Arlo fucking Hayes, who is his own boss and our father's boss as well, but my gut tells me he might not want to get involved. I have heard Arlo tends to not get mixed up in family matters, especially those involving Mafia families. In any case, we will not give up on Charley and will fight to the death for her. Help or no help.
When the security guy has finally hung up the phone, he steps back and motions with his head for us to enter. I waste no time to race through Arlo’s club, aiming toward his office at the back, with Chaos following closely.
I begin to slow down once I see a brunette woman exiting his office dressed in full black with tanned skin. She strides confidently this way, her tall black heels clicking over the floorboards as she heads for the exit, and as she passes us, she gives a slight nod, to which we both return. Chaos speaks behind me as soon as she is out of sight.
“That's his wife, I think.”
I raise an eyebrow as I continue forward and knock my knuckles loudly against the huge black door when I reach it.
“Yeah?”
As soon as he responds, I push down the handle and walk straight in, noticing him seated behind his desk in his usual black suit and tie, one ankle crossed over his knee, reclining comfortably. He keeps his dark eyes fix on us as he places a cigarette between his lips and sparks the end of it.
I admire Arlo because, despite appearing as an unhinged monster to many in this city, I know he operates on solid principles, which distinguishes him from most villains I know. I would like to believe we share mutual respect, but with him, you never know which side you are going to get. Is it Arlo or is it The Skinner? I suppose we are about to find out. Once I hear Chaos click the door closed behind us, I raise my chin to him, which he returns as he blows out smoke.
“What the fuck do you want?”
My jaw clenches as I struggle to find the right words to say it to him without sounding weak over a chick. I am not married, and realistically I hold no authority over Charley in the Elite world, she’s not mine. Well, she is, but I have never made that known tothe outside world. Some may think she is easily disposable, and all this war could be for nothing, but I am hoping Arlo will find some understanding. Staying silent, he calmly signals with his hand, his cigarette nestled between his tattooed fingers.
“Sit the fuck down; you look as if you're going to tear my fucking office apart.”
I grunt before pulling out a chair by force and taking a seat, even though I am not in the mood to unwind. I side-eye as Chaos sits beside me until I notice Arlo glancing between us before he sighs and breaks eye contact, looking aside.
“Fucking Maddox.”
He leans forward, placing his hands on the desk before rising.
“He's taken that girl?”
I observe him as he calmly strides toward a small whiskey cabinet, not too far from his desk.
“Not just any girl; she's the heir and Queen of the Russian Mafia here in New York.”
He casts a side long glance at Chaos as he untwists the cap off a bottle of whiskey.
“I do know that, Chaos.”
Me and Chaos look at one another while he pours the amber liquid into three glasses.
“When you bombarded my fucking meeting with your fathers, I delved into what the fuck you were all going on about.”
Nosey, motherfucker, but it does not surprise me; Arlo likes to know everything that is going on in his city and who can blame him.
“When you mentioned that cunt's name, it piqued my interest.”
My brows pinch as he places the bottle back inside the cabinet.
“You have beef with Maddox?”
He strides forward, two glasses in his hands, his eyes finding mine.
