Serving Mr. Serrano

The Seven

Before the concept of The Seven was created thirty years ago, the crime underworld of Britu was run by the most cutthroat criminals the country has ever known. Not that it isn't now…

Back then, there were no territories, The Code didn't exist and crime was at an all-time, record-breaking high. Power belonged to the biggest, toughest guy on the block and anybody seen operating on his territory was likely to get killed before he could even make a run for it.

In fact, the first "civil war" to break out in 1981 was a result of territory disputes. Nobody's really sure who started it, since everyone tells the story so differently, but the result of that one mistake was one of the darkest times the country's ever known.

The war would go on for several, gruelling months in which citizens began to fear for their lives. Capos, soldiers, even the most powerful of lieutenants, were gunned down in the streets like dogs and their bodies dragged for show. Law enforcement had their hands full trying to contain the violence while doing their best to protect the people.

My father, a low-level boss with a hundred lieutenants working for him at the time, chose to stay out of the conflict. His goal was to capitalise on the chaos and began taking up abandoned territory around Nito. His power grew, until he had quadrupled his profits and had seized control of everything in the province of Nito.

Of course, this put a huge target on his back. He had nearly three people gunning for him per week, he'd once told me. Whether this was true, or just an exaggerated account of what had happened then, I will never know.

What I do know, though, is that my father's first wife was shot and killed on the steps of a church just after a Sunday service. Like I said, there were no rules back then and these were people who had no reservations about going after your family.

At this point, my father had no choice but to get involved. Backed by his mafioso father-in-law, the cunning Antonio Moretti and an up-and-coming Kendrick Menga, my father was able to eradicate both organisations within weeks. What had been a war at first turned into a ruthless m******e.

The conflict would finally end in early 1983 when Moretti, Menga and my father called the first ever sit-down. They invited the remaining syndicate, cartel and mafia bosses from around the country to negotiate a peace treaty.

Altan Jordan, Sebastian Van Kirk II, and Vincenzo Ricci would agree to peace while the others insisted on war.

So, the six of them had the rest killed.

Just like that.

They took over their territories, with each of them choosing their own portion of Britu to rule. My father and his in-law would take up the most territory, a reward for their high status.

In 1985, Moretti suffered a major heart attack and died just a few days later. Since he had no heirs left apart from his late daughter's child, Moretti gave his territory to his son-in-law to later pass on to my brother, Luca Serrano.

Of course, that never happened…

I startle from my thoughts when the car stops in front of the gates of the proving ground. We wait a few seconds while the gates open, looking out the window at the insane amount of security present. Ben and I share a glance as the car comes to a stop in front of the VIP lounge, which sat high above the track.

I wait for James to open my door, and scan the entrance from the dark lens of my aviator shades.

There were already several guards stationed at every entrance to the venue, around the track and the lounge, most of them my men. James muttered something into his mouthpiece and followed me through the glass doors with Ben at his side.

Almost immediately, I am greeted by a gorgeous young woman with a bright smile and an awestruck gaze.

She wasn't Karen.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Serrano. My name is Andrea and it is my pleasure to be of service to you today."

I glanced absently at her, noting the way her eyes were sweeping over me with interest, and then I sauntered over to the bar where an assortment of bottles were lining the shelves.

"I could mix something up for you-"

"Mr. Serrano pours his own drinks, Ms. Alonso," Ben said, appearing out of nowhere.

He keeps his eyes on her as he firmly states, "That will be all for today, thank you. You're dismissed."

"But I was told to-"

"Thank you, Ms. Alonso."

She swallowed, spared me one last look before scurrying towards the service door on the other side of the room. That done, Ben glanced down at his watch and frowned.

"Would you like anything?" I asked, holding up a bottle of Macallan 1979.

"No, thank you. I have to be on my A-game. You know how these assholes get."

He and James turn on their heels and creep towards the door, leaving me in the lounge with several armed guards standing quietly along the walls. I can feel their eyes on me, watching for any threats that may lurk in the brightly lit room.

I took a sip, the liquor burning a warm trail to my stomach. I poured more bourbon in my glass, then threw the contents down my throat.

But f**k, that annoying feeling churning inside me just wouldn't go away.

The initial plan for this weekend was to fly off to Cape Town with Eden for a few days of sun and rambunctious s*x. We'd been planning the whole thing since she returned from her girls trip a month ago, but had to postpone six times already due to my work commitments.

Unfortunately, I'd had to cancel again when Percy informed me that all members of The Seven were free to meet for a sit-down this weekend.

I guess now that Malice had expanded his operations into the rest of the territories, it was no longer just my problem to "handle" anymore. I had called a meeting weeks ago, and received responses from only two of them confirming their attendance. As if their presence at these sit-downs were optional now, instead of mandatory.

Anyway, I'd asked Percy to reach out once again when reports of missing girls began spreading all across the country. I knew from Varma that the ISA was already building a convincing case against us, so we had to nip this s**t in the bud as soon as possible.

While I was pleased that the sit-down had been confirmed, I couldn't help but be disappointed because I had to cancel with Eden yet again.

She'd spent the night at the penthouse so we could take the private jet first thing in the morning. She barely slept from her excitement, humming with glee as we got ready to leave. And then, literally five minutes before we were scheduled to leave, Percy walked in and announced that "something had come up".

I'd watched the happiness fade with each passing second, giving way to disappointment and hurt.

Eden scoffed and hurried back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Percy slid his hands into his pockets and turned to me with a curious expression, brow arched in question.

"Oh, the arguments. One of the many reasons why I've never been married," Percy announced, turning on his heel.

"Shut up."

He chuckled, ignoring my question, then muttered a sadistic, "Have fun explaining yourself to your 'girlfriend'. Your plans are in place. Proving ground at 11:00."

Once he was gone, I poured myself a generous measure of bourbon and gulped it down, then joined Eden in the bedroom. I found her unpacking all of her clothes, placing each item carefully on the closet shelves with a precision that was unlike her. From my time with her, I'd noticed that Eden wasn't a huge fan of neat spaces. In fact, her personal mission was to make as much of a mess in my suite as possible by leaving her clothes on the floor and her hair products all over the bathroom counter. Her undergarment drawer was so disorganised, she could rarely find a bra.

That she was actually tidying up meant something was very, very wrong.

I approached her quietly, wary that she would start throwing s**t in her rage, but she didn't. So I circled her small waist with my arms and pulled her closer, kissing her cheek. She pushed me away gently, then continued to unpack.

"Eden."

She froze, curling her hands into small fists at her sides. I watched her take a deep, calming breath before she turned, a frustrated frown knitting her brows together.

"'No interruptions', you said. 'Nothing will get in the way', you said."

"It's an emergency."

"It always is. I packed my things like you said, cancelled my engagements on time, and finished all my work so I could be free all weekend…"

"It's not the end of the world. I promise I'll make this up to you."

There's a lengthy silence, one where she looks up at me with evident displeasure and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Finally, she sighs, and looks away with a gentle shake of her head.

Very softly - so quietly that I almost don't hear her - Eden says, "You always say that."

I reached for her, placing my hands on her warm, delicate shoulders.

"You know I don't do this on purpose. My business-"

"Is important. Yeah, I get that," she said, stepping away, her gaze on the floor. "Trust me, I do. I know the s**t you're dealing with is like, major vital to the stability of the country… But this is getting old, Dominic. I'm starting to think you make s**t up so you don't have to go."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've literally ever heard you say. If I didn't want to go, then I would never have suggested the trip in the first place. This is all last minute s**t, Eden. All of it is beyond my control."

"I cancel my s**t for you all the time," she argued. "Without fail, without complaints. I avail myself to you whenever you want or need me and you can't even…"

She trailed off, then raised her hands in exasperated defeat.

"You know what? It's fine. I don't even care anymore, because nothing I say is going to change anything. Travel safely, Dominic. I'll see you when you get back. In the meantime, I think we may need to rethink our terms."

Before I could respond, she pushed past me and marched back into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop and overnight bag.

"What the f**k do you mean, "rethink our terms"? You're not seriously considering ending our arrangement because of a few meetings, are you?" I snapped.

"A few meetings?" she yelled, whirling around. "Are you f*****g kidding me!"

"Do not raise your voice at me."

"Another one of your f*****g orders that I'm supposed to obey like a dickmatized, subservient little b***h, right?" she taunted.

"Jesus f*****g Christ. You and your goddamn mouth. For f**k's sake, Eden, you're overreacting."

She paused, narrowing her eyes at my tone and then opened her mouth to respond. But the sudden, sharp knock cuts her off.

Ben opened the door and stepped inside, his gaze taking in the scene quietly. I inhaled deeply, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Ben?"

"We need to leave."

Eden pursed her lips together, threw her bag over her shoulder and swept out of the room. Ben reached for my luggage, pausing only a second when the front door slammed against its hinges.

Fuck…

I had tried calling on my way to the ground, but she didn't pick up. I pulled my phone out and dialled her again, but the phone rang until it went to voicemail. Pissed that I was so bothered about her feelings, I put my phone away and poured another measure of liquor into my glass.

I took the bottle with me, settling in one of the leather armchairs that faced both the exits, the bar and the television. I grabbed the remote and turned on the news, muting the volume.

There's subtle movement from the guards just as I hear a convoy of vehicles pulling up in front of the entrance. I watched Kendrick step out of his armoured vehicle, surrounded by his security detail. Like a man entirely too aware of his own power, approached the glass doors and walked in like he owned the place.

He's dressed in an expensive, dark, pinstripe suit, his tie a bright gold. He smiles when he sees me, and approaches slowly. As the oldest of The Seven, he held seniority over me, so I rose from my seat to greet him. We both reach out with our right hands, clasping the other's to shake up and down once, our left hands cupping our own elbows. We interlock thumbs, raising the right arm to an angle before releasing into a normal hand shake.

"Drink?" I offered, letting go of his hand.

"Definitely. What do you have?"

I gestured towards the bar, and he chuckled, walking over to the shelves to closely examine what I have available. He picks a bottle of Louis XIII Cognac and looks it over with a critical eye, whistling in appreciation.

"I see you have your father's excellent taste," he acknowledged, placing a glass on the bar.

"He'd probably roll over in his grave if I ever touched anything else," I joked, grateful for the alcohol.

"I imagine there's a lot more he'd be upset about than your choice of liquor, Serrano," Menga said, leaning on the polished wood, his perceptive gaze searching.

Menga had been in the game longer than all of us. He'd seen and done it all more than once, and probably had the scars to prove it. That was the reason Menga was in charge of both South and North Delon.

He was the only member of The Seven who offered his assistance after my father had died, so I personally owed him a huge debt.

Even though he had been among those to write The Code, and ensure peace in the underworld, I couldn't completely rule out his involvement just yet.

"No, he wouldn't be. I'm hoping we'll get to the bottom of this soon."

He gives me a look that expresses his doubt, but holds his tongue as another bevy of cars stops at the entrance, announcing a new arrival.

Sebastian Van Kirk walks in seconds later, looking as polished as ever in his navy suit, grinning widely at us both. He approached, spreading his arms wide in greeting.

"Gentlemen. It's been too long," he declared.

"Van Kirk. Thank you for coming."

"I wouldn't dare miss it," he said, shaking my proffered hand. "I see the party has already started."

He walks around the bar, his gaze skimming over the bottles of expensive wine available. He picks a rare 2004 Penfolds Block 42 Kalimna Cabernet Sauvignon Ampoule and holds it up in appreciation, arching a brow at me in question.

"You're more than welcome," I said, sitting back down. I place my ankle over my knee, and wait until both men are seated to speak.

"How was your trip?"

"Bumpy. I had to fly here because the ISA has been watching the roads and the seas a little too close for my liking."

Van Kirk's territory was Karo, north of my own. We work closely together on a few operations and projects, mostly trading in narcotics, politicians and hookers for information, gems and arms.

While he and I shared some interests, I knew Van Kirk well enough not to trust him entirely. He cared little for others and revelled in the suffering of his enemies too much. But at least he was honest about the piece of s**t he was.

I valued honesty.

"I'll make arrangements so your return trip is easier," I said, to which he nods subtly in gratitude.

Gabriel Mammen arrives next, nodding his greeting to everyone quietly. He sits down without getting a drink, and stares at each of us in turn before he finally speaks.

"Thank you, Serrano, for having us."

Menga said nothing, just sipped quietly from his glass. Van Kirk watched us quietly, and I tilted my head at Gabriel. It wasn't easy to recognise when he meant any offence and when he was just being his usual, abrupt self.

I've worked with him a few times, both for Serrano Enterprises and SERPENT. I've never spent much time with him outside of work, so I didn't really understand how his mind worked. But he was an unpredictable fucker for sure.

Unlike the rest of us, Mammen stayed away from the media. Outside of our circle and his trusted men, nobody even knew what he looked like.

He was that reserved.

Amari Rolle arrives then, dressed to the nines with a pair of sunglasses on his face. He slides them off when he walks into the room, approaching me to shake my hand before extending the same courtesy to everyone else.

Rolle had only recently taken over Mardenna, but he'd already changed things significantly in his territory. Profits had doubled, employment had gone up and he'd recently received an award for humanitarian of the year.

Personally, I didn't like him.

I thought the good deeds were all for show so he could curry favour with the public. And while I understood the reasons for his strategy, I also knew that public opinion could change in the blink of an eye.

"Help yourself to something at the bar," I offered, gesturing to the variety of liquor on display at the bar.

"Thank you," he said, picking up a bottle of cognac.

After he poured himself a modest measure, Rolle walked back around the bar and sat down. He took a small sip from his glass and sighed in contentment.

"You have a very impressive collection, Serrano."

I'm about to respond when Michael Khan strides into the room.

"Good morning, everyone. My sincerest apologies for being so late."

He nods in my direction, sliding his hands into his pockets while his gaze skims over the others carefully.

"So why exactly are we meeting at a racing ground?"

A grin tugs at the corners of my lips.

Our sit-downs were always held in and around Britu, depending on who called the meeting. We knew the ISA was most likely watching and listening in on our conversation, so discussing business here was not the best idea.

"We have the place to ourselves and there's a garage full of cars downstairs just waiting for us to test."

Khan raised both eyebrows in surprise, and Mammen's gaze snapped upwards with genuine surprise. Rolle frowned, he and Van Kirk sharing a look I couldn't quite decipher. It's Menga who finally asks, "Cars? You brought us all here just for cars?"

I smiled, glancing towards the doors as the last member of The Seven arrived. I watch Khalid Jordan step out of his SUV, buttoning his suit jacket. He turns towards the entrance, pausing briefly as the doors open with a gentle whoosh.

"Gentlemen, good morning. Apologies for my tardiness. My meeting ran later than expected. What did I miss?"

"Serrano wants us to drive cars."

Jordan arched a condescending brow, his displeasure evident.

"What a waste of our f*****g time."

"Why don't you help yourself to something at the bar," I said, rising from my seat.

Just as Jordan reaches for a Morus LXIV Gin, Ben walks into the lounge with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Mr. Serrano, everything is in place. We're ready to start."