The Diary of a Mafia King:- The Woman Of My Dreams.

CHAPTER 1. I stood in the elevator with James, my driver and PA, waiting for the doors of the elevator to close, when suddenly, a hand hung in the air between the two moving doors keeping them from closing. I was startled, but my eyes remained unflinched and fixed to the door, curious to see the hand-owner. When the doors extended apart, revealing my intruder, she kicked in a box with her feet which was covered in an All-stars sneaker, though looking disheveled, she was smiling as she blew off the overgrown fringe that laid scattered on her face with her mouth. She walked in, taking a stance in front of me, and began to punch in numbers on the elevator buttons. James moved to stop her as this was a special elevator for the penthouse, but I stopped him in time with the back of my hand on his chest. There was something intriguing about this red haired woman standing before me. I watched her closely, noting the slight curve the light green scrub she was wearing made from her waist to her hips. Doctor or nurse, I couldn’t tell. Her hair was long and sat careless on her back. She was tapping her laps with short well-trimmed nails and her eyes remained fixed on the neon numbers that displayed what floor we were on as the elevator went up. Finally, the elevator came to a halt on the tenth floor, she grabbed the box she had kicked in earlier and rushed out. She must be in a haste, I thought, and scoffed at the idea of being interested in her. Her sight had been a worthy distraction, but that was it. The elevator door closed back and we continued on our trip. Lucy was lying on the couch in my living room when I walked in, an almost finished bottle of brandy and a wine glass sat on the table and a white stiletto I assumed were hers, laid on the floor. Lucy is a girl I’m going out with, and for the third time this week I had stood her up, with hopes she’d get the memo and be out of my life, but a beekeeper doesn’t stop gathering honey because he’s been stung. So long as she’d keep getting the financial support from me, she was bound to keep leaching. I stood over her, wondering who had let her into the house without informing me first, but I was having a bad headache, and couldn’t bring myself to ask the housekeeper any questions or worse wake her up to be subjected to her nagging. I walked away to the bedroom, leaving her on the couch. My headache seemed to have increased, but I had one last thing to attend to before I call it a night. In the bathroom shelf, there were bottles of medicines, vitamins and supplements, I took two pills of aspirin and gulped it down with a glass of water. I was exhausted and wanted to lay down, but I knew there was no point to it, I wouldn’t sleep even if I begged the Greek god Morpheus himself. Before minutes I had had a shower and changed from my earlier outfit, a black suit, to a simple brown pant with a vintage shirt I let the top three buttons fly. My shoe was shiny black and was soft on the marble tiles, just as I like them, when I strolled out of the bedroom to the entrance door in the living room, not taking a glance at where Lucy laid, and out of the house again. James was outside waiting to drive me, but I took the keys from his hand. “Take her home” I said, gesturing with a finger pointing at the door so he understood before I continued into the elevator. At the parking lot, I pushed the ‘on’ button of my Tesla and the soft humming of the engines came to life, then I pushed another button to change gear to drive, but just as I swerved right into the driveway, the headlights of a red Camry came into view, alarming all my senses. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. My brain was fast and my body corporated as I stepped on my brake pedal, making my body jerk forward and back again, hitting my back hardly on my seat. The screeching of engines along with a mild crash sound echoed in the still driveway. I had crashed into the Camry. With one hand squeezing tightly to the steering wheel and the other reaching beneath my seat for a pistol I’ve had strapped there for a day like this, I clenched my teeth together and fixed my eyes on the Camry, waiting to make out the driver’s face. I watched as the door opened and took a long drag of air. My finger was carefully placed on the trigger of the pistol, I was ready. It was first the driver’s head, and from the ponytail red hair, I could tell she was a woman. They sent a woman, I thought. But when she turned toward me, though the bangs were now neatly pinned to the sides, I still recognized her as the lady in the elevator earlier. I squinted my eyes to be sure I was seeing right. Her strides were heavy and screaming rage as she advanced toward me, still wearing the light green scrub from before, her hands were empty and danced loosely at her sides. She wasn’t who I suspected she was. I exhaled and let go of the pistol. I wound down my window when she came closer, expecting to conclude every negotiation in time so I could get back to more important things. “You need to get down” she said. My nerves spiked up at the sound of her voice. Who did she think she was talking to in that manner? I thought and glared at her. Again she disappointed my expectations and instead of shivering out of fear and asking for mercy, she glared right back. “You need to get down” she repeated, warningly, which made me laugh silently. What could she possibly do? I closed my eyes and breathed out from my mouth. There are two types of women in the world; those who have no will and those that act like they had any, meanwhile in truth, they had none, it’s only an act not to look easy. She was obviously the later and she was getting on my nerves. “I need to be somewhere right now, lady. I won’t press any charges. I’ll pay for whatever damages your car has suffered. So you can leave me your cashapp or whatever means you wish to get your money with” I said. She scoffed and bit her lower lip, it was then I saw a fresh bruise by the side of her lip and blood was beginning to pile up. She must have gotten it from the crash if she hit her head on the steering wheel. I couldn’t tell for sure. “You won’t press charges? Ah! My God” she exclaimed, releasing a shaky breath from her lungs and covering her face with the palm of her hands. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” “What I’ve done?” I repeated, shocked that she was blaming me for her reckless driving. “Yes, what you’ve done Mr…. whatever. And you have the guts to talk about pressing charges? If anyone should be pressing charges it’ll be me, not you”. Women will do anything but take responsibility, even in a glaring situation as this, I thought. I looked at the custom made gold chain Rolex wrist watch I was wearing, I was running late already, and as much as I hate to encourage such repulsive act, I knew the only way out was to give her what she wanted. I pulled down the glove box at the passenger’s seat and tore off a bundle of hundred dollar bills, which I handed to her from the window. I saw her eyes widen and her mouth open as if to say something but not finding her voice. “What the hell!” she screamed, taking me aback. “I don’t f*****g want your money. You need to take responsibility of the damage you’ve caused” she was pointing at her car now. Again, I exhaled, tired of all the whining that was awakening my headache. “Look lady, I don’t know what you want, but you’re in my way and I need to be somewhere right now” I said, and wound my window back up before I let her complete whatever it was she was saying. I calculated the distance between her car and mine, there was a space behind that if I do a good turn backward, it will let me pass freely without further contact with her car. I did just that and before long, I was driving freely out of the driveway.