Punishment
1314 Words
Chapter 4
The casino’s underground chamber was dim, the kind of room built for secrets. The air was heavy with cigar smoke, the low hum of jazz music bleeding faintly through the walls above. Millano sat at the head of the table, a glass of whiskey untouched before him, his gaze sharp as a blade.
On his right sat Carlos, his trusted friend, younger but steady, though tonight his nervousness was evident in the way his fingers tapped against the wood. Across the table sat Don Salvatore, older, seasoned, flanked by two guards who stood near the door like shadows.
Millano didn’t fidget. He didn’t need to. The silence he allowed to stretch was its own form of power, pressing on the lungs of those in the room.
Finally, Salvatore cleared his throat.
Salvatore: “You run your business like a king, Millano. But kings don’t last without allies. We’ve come for our share.”
Millano tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a humorless smile.
Millano: “Share? Since when did my casino become a charity?”
Salvatore: “Don’t play dumb. You know the routes are shared property. What goes through this city… touches us all.”
Millano: (calmly) “No. What goes through my city, touches only me. You want routes, you build your own. You come sniffing around mine, you get burned.”
Carlos shifted, glancing between them.
Carlos: “Millano—”
Millano raised a hand, silencing him without breaking eye contact with Salvatore.
Salvatore: (smirking, though his voice had an edge) “You’re bold. Maybe too bold. The cartel doesn’t forgive arrogance.”
Millano leaned forward, his gaze like steel.
Millano: “The cartel fears me. Don’t twist it. They fear me because I don’t play nice, Salvatore. I don’t split. I don’t bow. And I don’t bleed easy.”
The words cut through the air, heavy and final.
Salvatore’s jaw clenched. He reached for his glass, trying to mask the tension with a swallow of whiskey.
Salvatore: “You’re making enemies you don’t need.”
Millano: “I don’t need anyone. Enemies come, enemies go. But me? I remain.”
The older man’s nostrils flared. His guards stiffened.
Salvatore: “You think one man can stand against all?”
Millano’s hand slid to his holster with deliberate calm. He drew his gun, laying it flat on the table with a thud. The sound echoed, and the guards’ hands immediately went to their own weapons.
Carlos swore under his breath.
Carlos: “Christ, not tonight—”
Millano’s voice cut through like a whip.
Millano: “Look around you, Salvatore. Every man you brought tonight… I already have eyes on them. If I give the order, their throats will open before they touch their triggers. Do you want to test me?”
The silence was suffocating. Even the jazz from above seemed to fade.
Salvatore’s lips curved in a slow, forced smile.
Salvatore: “You’ve made your point.”
Millano leaned back, still calm, still deadly.
Millano: “Good. Then hear mine: stay the f**k out of my casino. Stay out of my city. You cross me again, I won’t waste words next time.”
Salvatore rose slowly, smoothing his coat. His pride wouldn’t let him leave quietly.
Salvatore: “You’ll regret this defiance, Millano. A man can’t build an empire without cracks forming in the foundation.”
Millano’s gaze hardened.
Millano: “Worry about your own foundation before mine buries you.”
Salvatore turned, smirking at the door.
Salvatore: “And I hear you’ve got Mikeal’s little daughter under your roof. Dangerous, keeping someone so… delicate. Watch your back, Millano. She might be your downfall.”
Millano’s jaw tightened, though he didn’t move. He let the Don’s words hang, cold and venomous.
The guards trailed after Salvatore, the heavy door slamming shut.
For a moment, silence. Then Carlos exhaled loudly.
Carlos: “f**k me, Millano. You nearly sparked a war.”
Millano slipped his gun back into his holster, unbothered.
Millano: “Wars aren’t sparked, Carlos. They’re chosen. And if Salvatore chooses one… he’ll choke on the fire.”
---
Hours later, Millano sat in his study, the glow of his laptop casting sharp lines across his face. Paperwork spread before him, but his mind was elsewhere.
The call from his private investigator broke the silence.
Investigator: “Boss, still no trace of the killer. Whoever did this—he’s deep under.”
Millano: (flatly) “Keep digging.”
Investigator: “I will. But there’s something else. At Mikeal’s house… I found a chain box.”
Millano frowned.
Millano: “Chain box?”
Investigator: “Locked. Face identicator. High security. Not the type Mikeal would use for casual things.”
Millano smirked faintly.
Millano: “So the bastard did keep secrets.”
Investigator: “Do you want me to—”
Millano: “Find a way to open it. Whatever he hid, it matters. Report back.”
He ended the call, leaning back in his chair. His eyes flicked to the replay of an old conversation with Mikeal, his voice faint through the speakers.
“I won’t want my daughter to be in danger.”
“Yes, and yourself, Mik.”
Millano chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. Mikeal had known his end was near. He’d hidden things—kept them from even Millano.
What killed him? Who?
The sound of a soft voice broke his thoughts.
Aurora: “Mr. Plank…”
His head snapped toward the door. Aurora stood there, hesitant, holding two glasses. Her nightgown clung softly to her frame, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
Millano closed his laptop in one swift motion.
Millano: “What are you doing here?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Aurora: “I saw your door open… on my way to get water. I… I brought you one too.”
She set a glass on the desk.
Millano: “I’m not thirsty.”
Aurora: (softly) “You don’t have to be. It’s what the body needs.”
He stared at her, eyes unreadable.
Millano: “What do you want?”
The question hit her like a slap. She faltered, unsure. Her gaze lingered on his lips as he spoke, and she caught herself drifting.
Millano: (snapping) “Aurora.”
She blinked, startled, her cheeks burning.
Millano: “Go back to your room.”
Instead, she blurted, “How… how old are you?”
His brow arched.
Millano: “Thirty-seven.”
Aurora: (eyes widening) “Thirty-seven?! Wait—what?”
He ignored her, shutting down the system and standing. She followed, almost without thought.
Aurora: “How are you friends with my dad when you’re that young? He wasn’t even old. He could… he could probably birth you!”
Millano stopped abruptly, and she bumped into his back. He turned slowly, towering over her.
Millano: “Birth me? Really?”
Her eyes flicked down, landing on the hard lines of his bare torso where his shirt hung open. Her throat went dry.
Aurora: “I… I guess?”
He bent low, lips brushing her ear, his voice a dangerous whisper.
Millano: “You’ve grown wings in the two days I left. You’ll be punished for it.”
He straightened, walking toward the door.
Aurora: (nervous, stammering) “Wh-what punishment?”
He glanced over his shoulder, voice low and dark.
Millano: “I promised to spank your ass. I will. Not as a promise… but as punishment. Not now.”
Her breath hitched, but something bold rose inside her.
Aurora: (blurting) “I want it.”
Millano paused. His brow arched, eyes narrowing.
Aurora: (voice firmer) “I want you to spank me. Hard.”
The silence after her words was deafening.
Millano turned fully, his stare drilling into her, a mix of fury, disbelief, and something darker.
Millano: “Careful, kitten. You’re playing with fire.”
- Writer
