Chapter Four
1268 Words
Rafael
"You are boring me, Ivan."
My voice was soft, barely audible over the clink of silverware, but it had the effect of a gunshot. The table fell silent. Even my brother, Mateo, who usually had the survival instincts of a rabid dog, stopped chewing his steak and looked at me.
This was the "lively" part of the business Mateo hated so much. He loved the grime, the blood, the breaking of spirits. Usually, I found it tedious and a necessary evil to ensure the shipping routes from the harbor remained exclusively ours.
But watching a man die after threatening him is becoming extremely boring. So we eat steak instead.
We were seated in the private dining room of Per Se, overlooking Columbus Circle. Opposite me sat Ivan Vitale, a port authority official who thought his title gave him leverage. He was sweating, his napkin crumpled in a fist that trembled slightly.
"Mr. Cruz, I'm just saying... the tariffs have increased," Ivan stammered, his eyes darting between me and Mateo. "I can't clear your shipments without a... a readjustment of our fee.”
I leaned back against the chair, checking my watch. I was bored.
My body was here, sitting in an expensive restaurant, smelling of meat and fear, but my mind was miles away. It was wrapped in silk sheets and the scent of vanilla.
I didn't look at him. My eyes were fixed on the wine in my glass, the deep crimson liquid swirling as I tilted it.
It reminded me of her lips.
Alexia.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, shutting out Ivan’s pathetic excuse.
I was back in the penthouse. I could see her on the mahogany table, her black dress hiked up to her waist, her skin glowing under the chandelier. I remembered the shock that had coursed through me when I pushed into her—the tight, unyielding barrier of her innocence.
“Please,” she had whispered, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. “Don't stop.”
I shifted my stance, the memory hitting me hard. I had expected a professional, I had expected a transaction, instead, I had found a virgin who took me with a desperation that bordered on worship. She was clumsy, yes. Unpolished. But the way she had clamped around me had nearly unraveled me.
I hardened instantly, the fabric of my trousers straining. It was ridiculous. I was a Kingpin, a man who had women lined up for a single glance, yet here I was, getting hard in a public restaurant because I couldn't forget the way a waitress from Queens shuddered when I claimed her.
I shifted in my chair, annoyed by my own reaction. She had taken me so well, her body clamping around me with a tightness that felt like possession. She had moaned beautifully, a raw, uninhibited sound that I wanted to bottle and keep.
I wanted to ruin that innocence again. I wanted to peel back the layers of desperation and see the woman underneath. That was why I had sent the contract, I didn't want a night; I wanted to own her completely.
I took a sip of the wine, ignoring the business deal that was worth millions.
"Rafael?" Mateo’s voice broke through my thoughts. "Ivan is waiting for an answer."
I blinked, the red haze of lust clearing just enough to see the sweating man in front of me. I needed to release this tension.
"An answer?" I repeated, setting the glass down.
I looked at Ivan.
"You want more money to do the job I already pay you for," I stated flatly.
"I... it's inflation, Rafael. The risks..."
"The risk," I interrupted, leaning forward, "is that you think you are essential. And another thing you know I hate, is liars, Ivan," I said softly, rolling up the sleeves of my white dress shirt. "Lying implies you think you are smarter than me. That is an insult."
"I swear, Mr. Cruz! I swear on my mother’s—"
I didn't let him finish before cutting him off. "Approve the shipment, or I will replace you with someone who doesn't ask questions. And you know how I handle redundancies.”
Ivan paled, nodding rapidly. "Of course. Of course, Mr Cruz, consider it done."
He scrambled to stand up, leaving his meal untouched, and practically ran out of the room.
"You didn't have to scare him that bad," Mateo chuckled, grabbing a bread roll. "Though it was funny. You've been distracted all night, Raf. What is it? The shipment? The Russians?”
"None of your business," I murmured.
“Grumpy motherfucker.”
The door opened, and Luca walked in. He didn't look at Mateo, instead he walked straight to my side, his face a mask of professional neutrality, but I saw the tension in his jaw.
"Boss," Luca said, his voice tight.
"Hmm," I said, picking up my knife.
"I have a response from the agency," Luca said quietly.
I sliced into the steak. "And? When is she moving in?”
“She?” Of course, he always gets interested when a ‘she’ is in the picture.
I ignored him, so did Luca.
I expected capitulation. They always capitulated. The apartment I had prepared was worth more than her entire bloodline.
"She refused," Luca said.
My knife scraped against the porcelain plate—a harsh, screeching sound that made Mateo wince.
I stopped cutting.
"She refused?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
“Wait! Are you saying the ‘she’ Rafael sent a contract to refuse him? Bravo! Who the f**k is the p***y?” Mateo beamed, shocked and surprised.
"Yes, sir," Luca said, stepping closer, looking like he expected to be shot for delivering the message. "She refused the contract, Sir, she told Nadia she had the money she needed. She said she isn't... a slut to be bought, so she returned the contract and left.”
A laugh bubbled up in my chest—dark, incredulous, and dangerous.
She refused.
For the first time in a decade, I offered a woman everything—protection, wealth, proximity to power—and she spat in my face. She thought she could take twenty thousand dollars, taste the darkness, drive me to the brink of madness with her body, and then just walk away to wait tables?
Man that girl has absolutely no idea how many lives she'd be endangering for just staring at what I considered mine.
Giving her a contract was mercy!
"She went back to work?" I asked,picking up the knife. "To the diner?"
"Yes, sir."
My smile widened. A chuckle escaped me, dark and devoid of humor.
"My perfect little flower," I mused, smiling broadly before stopping abruptly.
"Burn it down," I said, my voice void of emotion.
"Sir?"
"Her life," I clarified, turning to face him. "She wants to be independent? Let’s see how independent she is when she has nothing. Call the diner, buy it if you have to, but have her fired. Call her landlord.”
"Yes sir."
"I want her on the street with nothing but the clothes on her back. I want her desperate, I want her crawling back.”
"And the brother?" Luca asked.
"Move him," I said coldly. "Private facility, my name on the paperwork and no visitors without my approval."
"You're going to use a dying boy as leverage?" Mateo asked, impressed.
“Hmm.”
Get the car," I ordered,standing up. "I have a phone call to make, I want to hear her voice when her world crumbles.”
- Writer
