Chapter 3

1166 Words
When the waitress awoke the next morning, she stared at the empty bed beside her. Wrapping the sheets around her, she made to get out of bed when Ricci entered then, buttoning his white shirt as he reached for a black suit jacket that had previously been hanging on the arm of a chair. "Good morning," the waitress told him. "Good morning," Ricci replied, briefly looking at her."Did you have a nice rest?" He did not particularly care, but he asked out of courtesy. She did deserve a good night's rest after all she did yesterday he thought wryly. After all, she had to appear at work today. "You're leaving?" She asked him, seeing he was all dressed-up. "Yes," Ricci replied."And you should too." "I would like to see you again." Ricci stopped in his tracks, stiffening.Then he spoke. "I will be leaving the country soon," he said. "Very soon." "What-what will happen to us?" The waitress asked. Ricci suppressed a long sigh. "Are you familiar with one-night stands?" he asked her in turn, mercilessly realistic. "I know what one-night stands are-" "Good. When you're all dressed up, you can leave." His voice was straight-out smooth, coldly so. Ricci made to leave, but he remembered something and then said: "One more thing." He reached into the drawer in the table that had his laptop sitting idly on it. He brought out a wad of hundred dollar bills and headed for the waitress who sat covered with the sheets on the bed. Then he gave it to her. The waitress stared at him, something of shock and annoyance in her demeanor. "I did not do it for- I'm not a-" "I know," Ricci replied calmly." This is merely appreciation. Thank you for last night." The woman took the cash hesitantly. "I'll be leaving now. I'll get room service to get you food," Ricci added. "But please leave the room before I am back." He strolled out of the room and headed for the living room. He finished the drink he had opened that morning and exited the suite. He headed for the elevator in his white shirt and suit. It did not take him long to reach the lobby. He walked to the reception office and ordered for food to be delivered upstairs to his room. Then he left the lobby to a waiting car. Inside, his right hand man-Carlo- and one of his men were at the front. "Drive," Ricci said. His underboss had informed him that they had caught the person that stole his money. They had been able to trace the hacker's IP address. Now, the bastard was in their custody. Ricci's underboss had been able to put the thief in ropes. They were headed there now. Ricci could not wait to see the bastard who had had the nerve to cross him. He was going to enjoy dealing squarely with the unfortunate i***t. Ricci's father had been Ricci's major mentor. There was so much his father did wrong, but he could admit that there were a few invaluable lessons his father had taught him. And one of that was to tie up loose ends adequately. He was not going to let this thief go so easily. Although there was so much Ricci had disagreed with with his father's training, Ricci who now had a level of maturity only a person who is seasoned in the art of conquering territories did, could take some of the lessons despite having hated the man for half his life. Well, Alessio was gone now and he was Don. His father was not here to boss him around; to tell him what was expected of the son of one of the most powerful men in Italy. His father was not here to tell him he was doing it wrong. He was Don now. His way was the right way- the only way. Ricci grinned sardonically. His father might have been harsh to his wife and his children; might have rated his wife second to his business, his life; might have had mistresses; might have let his anger make him take certain decisions with adverse consequences. But the man had been thorough. So thorough that it was a shock when Ricci had heard that his father had been killed- shot by the son of his biggest rival, Romero De Luca. Ricci might have hated his father for the most part when he was alive but Ricci was bidding his time. He was coming for Romero. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that family was everything. You could die for family, kill for family. He was going to pay Romero in his kind. The car cruised to a stop and Ricci had to look up to ascertain whether they were at their destination. They were just at a red light. Ricci turned to the men in front. "How long till we reach there?" He asked. "A couple of minutes," was the reply. Ricci looked out the window. "Is Donato at the location?" He asked. "Yes, signore,"the guard-turned driver replied. In another six minutes, the car cruised to a stop at a small but decent apartment that seemed to have been rented for just the purpose; for their brief stay. After all, none of them stayed in New York. As soon as the car stopped, Ricci got out and walked to the front of the porch, his men flanking both his sides. By the porch, they met Donato, the underboss. "Is he in there?" Ricci asked him. "Yes signore, but-"Donato replied, holding Ricci back as the latter made to enter. "But freaking what? The bastard in there stole my money-" "The matter is a bit complicated-" Screw complicated, Ricci thought as he went inside, not even listening to his underboss anymore. He entered the house and walked straight past the men that spread around the room. In the center of the sparsely furnished room, was a figure tied to a chair, a hoodie covering the face. Ricci stood a few feet from the figure in jeans. Something about the captive rang differently to him. His underboss did talk about complications or something like that, Ricci acquiesced now. He strode to the figure in wide strides. Then he reached for the hood and pulled it off. Long hair dropped behind the figure and Ricci's fears were confirmed. The smooth face and soulful brown eyes came into view. There was something about those eyes...brown, yet they seemed to radiate a fire of their own. Ricci's gaze lingered on the lips, full as they were as he realized with shock that it was a woman that had had the nerve to steal from him. Ricci stared. The woman was very beautiful... a sort of mix of Italian and American... but she had stolen from him. Ricci turned to his underboss who now stood behind him, his gaze asking for confirmation from his subordinate. The underboss nodded. She was the one.
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