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“It is rumored the Reznikovs are building a settlement close by, on the border of our territory,” Ronaldo replied.
“I’ve heard those rumors too. They were few at first, but they’ve been building up over the past few weeks,” Jon said thoughtfully.
“They haven’t made any moves against us yet,” Ronaldo offered.
“Except for Mila,” Jon scoffed. The entire table looked at me and I stared at the floor, feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap. I kept quiet because it felt like the smartest thing to do. Jon used his knife to cut off a piece of steak, I hazarded a look in his direction, and he lifted it to his lips. He chewed slowly, clearly mulling over something in his head, not looking at me even once.
“Three weeks ago, I placed one of our soldiers in a bakery in the Bronx, right on the outskirts of the Bratva’s activities. They seem to be centered in a few abandoned factories on the north side of the Bronx. He’s been unable to identify what they’re moving. It could be weapons, drugs, or something else,” he continued.
“I haven’t heard anything as to what kind of cargo they’re storing in each building, but I could send someone into find out,” Ronaldo said curtly. I looked from one to the other, sensing that perhaps there was the slightest bit of a power struggle between the two of them.
The more I watched them, the more I was convinced that I was right. Jon was younger than Ronaldo by a good ten or fifteen years. The older man seemed to look at him with disapproval from time to time, but he was quick to cover it up by stuffing a forkful of food in his face. He chewed noisily and I turned away, afraid I would show my unease.
“Not yet. I want to know everything that Mila knows about Sergei first. We’ll decide on a move after I have all of the information at my disposal,” Jon replied.
“We should strike hard and fast, catch them unprepared,” Ronaldo pushed.
“I won’t risk our men on a whim,” Jon responded, his tone hardening.
“Understood, boss,” Ronaldo said, but there was something between the lines of his response that came off as undermining. Jon took a long draw of water, leveling his glare on the underboss for a long moment. Ronaldo squirmed, but Jon said nothing. The rest of the table watched Jon’s silent appraisal with interest. Eventually, Ronaldo bowed his head and the tension in the room melted away.
Jon cut off another piece of steak, carefully holding the meat to my lips. I opened my mouth and he gently guided it onto my tongue. I used my teeth to pull off the juicy hunk of meat and chewed slowly. He fed me several more pieces, pulling another plate aside so that I could eat my fill. By the time he placed the fork down, I felt more than satisfied.
He tipped a glass of water against my lips, and I kept my hands in my lap as I slowly drank. When he’d deemed I’d had enough, he placed it back on the table.
“Proceed with collections as normal. I don’t want the Russians to get any hint that we are aware of their activities. Understood, men?” Jon asked pointedly. A chorus of “Yes, boss” echoed around the room. I noticed that Ronaldo was last to say anything at all.
The chef rolled in an overloaded cart full of various desserts as the waitstaff slowly cleared the table. I shivered, growing cold. Jon’s gaze flicked to me for a brief moment with something that looked like longing and then back to his men.
“Does anyone else have anything that needs to be brought to my attention?” he asked.
Ronaldo shook his head. Jon looked over him to the rest of his men.
“Our weapons stocks could use bolstering, boss. I’d like to put in some orders so that if they’re needed, we’re ready,” one man spoke up.
“Make sure to do it through secure channels. Work with the Luccheses or the Giovannis instead of our overseas contacts. Make sure that whoever you use isn’t working with the Reznikovs,” Jon nodded.
“Got it, boss,” the man nodded, bowing his head respectfully.
“I’m going to take Mila to my penthouse. See to it that I’m not disturbed. Post two guards by the elevator just in case my little captive decides to run after I put her to bed tonight,” Jon commanded.
I looked at the smorgasbord of pies on the table. There was apple, pecan, strawberry rhubarb, mixed berry, cherry, and all sorts of other delicious-looking desserts. My eyes grew big. I was disappointed that he wasn’t going to feed me any of it. Jon paused for a moment, noticing the direction of my gaze.
“Send up dessert for us. Make sure to include a piece of everything,” Jon added, and the chef nodded quickly.
“Of course,” the bald man replied.
“Arms around my neck,” Jon said softly when he knelt beside me. I searched his face for only a moment before I did what he asked. One of his arms wound around my back, and another slipped underneath my legs. He lifted me with ease and carried me out of the room. We entered a ritzy gold-lined elevator that went up another several floors before the doors opened, revealing an extravagant open concept apartment with the most ridiculously beautiful view I’d ever seen.
We were surrounded with floor-to-ceiling windows. It was just past dusk, the sunset still leaving a very slight glow on the edge of the horizon. Only some of the brightest stars were visible in the night sky, the lights from the city drowning out most of them. The rest of the apartment was intricately designed, contemporary and polished in shades of blue, gray, and white. The couches were covered in plush pillows and a few soft throw blankets, looking so luxuriously comfortable that I wanted to dive right into them. There was no doubt in my mind that if I sat down, I would fall asleep in seconds.
The dining table was made of steel beams and polished concrete, complete with a swirling design that made it look like the Caribbean Sea. He didn’t stop though and carried me into the hallway to the far right. He walked down into a massive bedroom, which also had floor-to-ceiling windows, then into a luxurious master bath.
The marble tile floors seemed to go on for ages. There was a large rain shower with more than one showerhead enclosed in sheer glass and a big clawfoot tub that could more than easily fit two people. He placed me down on the counter and indicated for me to stay there. I flinched a little when he reached for me.
“Shh. It’s alright, little girl. No more punishment. I’m going to take care of you for a little while before we talk for a short while. After that, I’ll put you to bed,” he said, studying me closely.
His expression was softer somehow, kinder and the tone of his voice was sweeter. I searched his beautiful brown eyes, finding in them flecks of yellow and green that I hadn’t noticed before. Warily, I gazed back at him and as if he could sense my disquiet, he smiled knowingly. He reached aside, picking up a soft fluffy washcloth. He turned the faucet on and slipped the towel beneath it.
