The Mafia’s Wanted Desires

JAXON

“I am not cheap,” He scoffed, giving a dismissive wave of his hands in the air.

Duncan’s eyes met mine from where he stood by the door, his hands folded behind me. I gave him a look, signaling him to stay his hands and he threw me a curt bow. My eyes drifted from his tall frame, reverting to the blonde-haired man that sat across from me at the conference table. His eyes twinkled with a determination that made my lips twitch in a smirk, causing me to apply pressure on the pen between my fingers as I clicked it non-stop.

I was slouched on the swivel chair across from him, spinning around softly, my eyes trained on him, watching his every move like a Hawk, and then I saw it. The slight shift in his expression and the tiny sweat that broke out on his face, followed by a swift bob of his Adam’s apple.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

“I know what I am offering and I am not going to sell it for cheap. If you can’t afford my price, then I’ll find a buyer elsewhere.” He said without mincing words, his eyes steadily on mine, wanting me to know he meant every word he uttered.

I wasn’t mad. I was just amused.

Amused at how little he cared about his life and reputation. It was a little surprising that he was trying to pull off his egoistic side on me without caring how fatal the repercussions may be.

“One million dollars is a fair price, Henry,” I said with a sweet smile playing on my lips, clicking my pen, even more, much to his annoyance. I watched him grit his teeth in annoyance, seething silently at the intentional mistake I made about calling him the wrong name. I knew what his name was. I just wanted to get on his nerves.

“It’s Harold!” He snapped and the clicking of the pen stopped abruptly, a deafening, toxic silence brewed in the air, my muscles twitching lightly. I stilled in my seat, bringing my spinning to a halt. His sharp tone spiked my irritation but I didn’t make it glaring, instead, I tried to hold on to my calm composure, which I knew was bound to break any moment from now.

“Three million dollars or nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have paying clients to attend to.” He dismissed me, rising to his feet. Duncan’s eyes strayed to mine and I gave him a curt nod, sinking back into my seat to watch the show play out in my view. He intended to walk past Duncan with his briefcase but the stoic-faced male grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, leading him to the seat which he pulled back and sat him down on it, abruptly.

“What the hell?!” He asked, horrified.

I smirked, rising to my feet and approaching him. His eyes grew wide at the sinister smile that played lightly on my lips. He tried to get off his seat but Duncan roughly shoved him back on it. I stopped right beside him, tucking my hands in the pocket of my slacks and I talked.

Then, I leaned in, coming to his back. My hands dropped to his shoulders and I squeezed them lightly before they slid off him and rested on the desk, trapping him between my hands.

“Harold Jameson,” I chuckled, darkly, my voice overly low, coming out so deadly. I heard him release a shaky breath, shifting in his seat with his hands clasped on his thighs. His trembling body grew still when one of my hands left the desk and rested on his shoulder but before he could recover from the stillness my tough had caused him, I gripped him by the hair, yanking his head backwards and a scream rippled through his mouth, causing me to chuckle.

“Oh, come now, Harold. I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” I sneered, tightening my grip on his hair and he whimpered. I whipped out my Glock from my waistband, pressing the cold tip beneath his earlobe, eliciting a shaky sigh from him.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” He cried like a child and I chuckled in amusement.

“Yeah, you should have thought about that before refusing my offer. I thought you were tough. Aren’t you, Harold?” I demanded coldly, pressing the tip of the gun further into his skin.

“Aren’t you?!” I bellowed, applying more pressure on his hair and a sob tore through his lips, irritation seeping into me at how weak he sounded.

“No!” He cried.

“You know…” I trailed off, trailing the gun from his earlobe, down to the hollow of his neck, and then I cocked the gun, pressing it into his neck while toying with the trigger.

“All I have to do is just pull the fucking trigger and you go, poof!” I mumbled an oh and chuckled under my breath.

“I could empty all the bullets in this gun, into your neck, then dismember them into unrecognizable pieces, stuff them in a body bag and throw your fucking remains over the fucking bridge and I will sleep like a baby tonight. You know that, huh?” I queried in a whisper, my tone dead, holding a hint of darkness in it.

When I didn’t get an answer from him, I reminded him of the fact that I had a gun pressed to his neck and he belted in horror.

“Please! I’ll do anything you want___ please…please, don’t kill me! Please!” He shouted, frantically, pleading for his life and it had my lips stretching in a smile.

Threats never get old. Hearing people beg for their life will always remain amusing to me. I found their plea music to my ears, even though I always end up doing whatever I wanted at the end of the day but it gave me a sense of dominance over them and I would kill for that dominance.

“We are friends, aren’t we?” I gripped his hair, chuckling.

“Aren’t we?!” I yelled.

“Yes, we are,” He sobbed.

“Which is why I am going to grant you mercy. Taylor!” I bellowed, beckoning at one of my boys that stood in the room. He scurried forward, dropping the large brown envelope on the desk. Harold flinched at the way it sounded with a loud thud.

“Open it,” I urged him and he picked it up with shaky hands. His hands almost gave the envelope away, during his quest of prying it open. He pulled out the pictures and papers in the envelope, skimming through its contents and a gasp eluded him.

I chuckled, grabbing him by the throat and tightening my grip around his neck, eliciting a series of violent coughs from him. I didn’t allow that to deter me from making my point clear.

“Now imagine what Heather, your wife would think of these pictures, and let’s not mention what it’s going to do to your reputation if it leaks to the media that you have a family outside of your fifteen-years-old marriage,” I paused, allowing my words to sink in properly before I proceeded, delving the tip of the gun into his neck with a sick grin on my face.

“Oops, did I forget to add the part where you embezzled funds from the company you started up with your best friend a few years ago before you left him out in the dust and went ahead to start your fucking company! After stabbing him in the back!” My deep, dark voice resounded terrifically in the room.

“I hate greedy old men but I despise betrayers even more,” I applied pressure on his neck, growling out my words.

“I…am__surrrw_y” He pleaded, choking on his words but I didn’t give a fuck if he was sorry or not. I just wanted to get my point across.

“Now,” I began, my voice dangerously low.

“You are going to take whatever it is I offer you. You pissed me off, so you’ll only be getting half of the money but you are going to be a good boy and you are going to sign those papers, renouncing every claim on this company because it belongs to me now.” My voice was thick with assertiveness as I enunciated every word I spoke to him. I wanted him to know I meant every word.

“Got it?” I demanded, pressing my fingers into the sides of his neck and he winced out in pain, choking out a sob.

“Yes! Yes! I’ll do anything you want!” He answered, his tone reeking of desperation.

“Now, sign the fucking papers!” I ordered, taking the papers from Duncan and handing them over to him, alongside a pen. He obeyed like a scared little rat and my lips twitched in a smirk. Duncan took the papers from him once he was done, tucking them neatly into the blue file.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I asked and spun him around in his seat, so he could face me. He had his head bowed, occasional sniffs leaving his lips and it made me so irritated. I crouched to his level, grabbing him by the jaw, so he could look me in the eye.

“Was it?” I asked, again.

“No, sir.” He answered, trembling.

“Good,” I noted and smirked, getting to my feet. I heard him release a sigh of relief but all his hopes of walking out of here, unscathed, were washed down the drain when I cocked my gun and shot him twice in the arm.

He let out an ear-piercing cry, tumbling off his seat and latching onto his arm in pain. His pain-filled voice resonated across the room, echoing loudly and it brought a smile to my face.

“I’ll get your money across to you, dearest friend.” I grinned and with that, I spun on my heels, heading out of the conference room with Duncan and my men trailing behind me.

“Our shipments have arrived at the warehouse, boss,” Duncan announced, struggling to catch up with my long strides, so he could punch in the digits on the Elevator buttons. I didn’t comment on what he had said but we both know I heard him and there was no reason to repeat himself.

The ride downstairs was quite short.

He pulled the car door open and I stepped him, then he shut the door behind him and got into the car, occupying the passenger’s seat. The chauffeur ignited the engine and drove us out of the parking lot.

I sunk into the leather seat, whipping out my phone to dial her number. She picked up at the first ring and that brought a smile to my face.

“Hey, baby!” She chirped and my smile grew even wider.

“Hey, Peach,” I responded softly.

“How’s your day going?” She asked me, her soft voice overridden by the rustling of papers that had me deducing that she was still at work.

“Taking care of business. As usual.” I answered, brushing my hair backwards and she responded with a hum.

“I know I should have told you beforehand but I just got the invite to a charity dinner tonight and I was wondering if you will go with me as my date?” I inquired, my voice thick with hope. I didn’t want her to feel like I was inconveniencing her. I wanted her to do things of her free will.

“A dinner?” She queried, unable to conceal her surprise.

“Hell yeah! There’s no way in hell I would miss seeing you all dolled up in a suit and me in a dress.” She spoke, her tone suggestive, sounding a little lower than it did earlier. My lips curved in a smirk as though she could see me.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She answered in a whisper.

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs Gray,” I noted.

“I’ll be expecting you, Mr Gray.” She affirmed, seductively and I cussed under my breath, chuckling as she hung up.