Donna

2

VITYA, CALM DOWN, I say to myself. Hating that guy right now. The seductive vixen I met at the casino. Should've known.

"What are you? Mob wife, or w***e?" She regards me flirtatiously, as if, by some chance, she didn't hear what I just said.

"Nice to see you again. I didn't catch your name." Irritation courses through me.

"I didn't throw at you. But I could throw my blade if it makes you feel special."

Instead of acknowledging this very possible threat, she prances over to me and plops on my lap, like she belongs there.

I don't women, but that doesn't mean I won't kill one.

I have three sisters; I know better than assume a woman is weak, merely because she has a p***y.

"You won't tell me your name?" She purrs in my ear, running her hands up my chest on to my shoulders.

"Vitya. Now get off me."

Only she doesn't. No, that encourages her, giving her the go ahead to kiss my throat and neck. I roll my eyes, and scowl while giving into her touch.

I glower at the ceiling, sucking in a breath, and breathing out a soft moan, at the sensation of her grinding on me.

This has gone far enough, I think to myself. So I pull her away from me, putting my hand around her throat to restrict further movement.

"Do not touch me until I tell you to, understand, Моя маленькая шлюха?

(my little w***e)

She nods, biting her lip until it bleeds.

"Good," I let go of her, pushing her away with much force. "Now. Tell your boss, that if he doesn't come here, I will find him."

"I'm a lazy son of a b***h," I drawl with a smile.

"So if I have to put in the work, I'm going to make it worth it."

Neither of the women speak, but the annoying secretary who's amazing at deep throating, looks at the woman who is sprawled on the concrete floor, regarding me with a pensive look.

"Get him," She orders, purposefully using her accented English.

"W-Wh-?"

"Chi vuoi dire, signorina, non ce n'è-"

(Who do you mean, Miss. There is no-)

"Basta! Portate un esecutore, grandi e alti, andatelo adesso, e gli dica di non farti scopare."

(Bring an enforcer, big and tall get him now, and tell him not to f**k up.)

Her tone is sharp and curt, as if she were used to giving orders. I have a feeling that she's not a spoiled princess...

The secretary scurries off to get me what I want. I may reconsider murdering her on my way out of this compound.

"I am sorry, signore Vitya. My brother can be a bit... moody and he refused to come out today."

I regard her cautiously. "And what changed."

"I demanded he come and fulfill his duties," She huffed, like a kitten roaring.

And yet...I don't speak Italian, so I don't know what she really said.

Sure enough a brute of a man comes back, tall, large, and angry.

"What do you want?"

Disrespect... I cannot take disrespect.

"I would prefer we talk as civilized adults. But if you insist on disrespecting me, matters will be handled savagely."

"Is that a threat?"

"That, is a stupid question. Yes, if you couldn't tell that was a threat. A warning."

"Now," I grin amicably.

"Let's get down to business. You have wasted much of my time. Here is the issue: your unit in San Francisco is targeting my men, despite the peace treaty we have."

I sit back in the chair, the coolness of my favorite blade relaxing me somewhat.

"Now, if we speaking about the Bonanno, or the Colombo, I would understand. But we have a treaty. So what's happening?"

The large man's face is stone, regarding me impassively.

"See, I was being passive aggressive, but I see I am going to have to be aggressive aggressive," My blade is set for his knee cap, when--

"Wait! Please, don't hurt him."

The annoyance within me has reached its peak, as I glare down at her. "I'm going to kill you."

"Fine. But not my brother."

I pull my gun out. I've had enough, I'm killing everyone; no one is excluded, no discrimination.

Without a second thought, I pop a bullet in the so called Don, sending him to his knees, which I shoot. Yep, kneecaps shattered. He'll never walk again.

Next up is the annoying secretary. "Just so you know," I smirk, "I'm going to make sure you get blood on everything you're wearing."

True, unadulterated terror fills her face, unlike when I was pointing the gun at her earlier. Now her outfit is involved, it's personal.

"You evil--!" Too late, a bullet is lodged in her shoulder, causing blood to seep from the wound.

One kill shot and it's over for her. The mere thought is enough to make c*m in my pants.

"Wait!"

I am so sick of the word wait.

"On second thought, perhaps I should shoot you first. You're quite irritating."

"You want the Don? I'll take you to him. No games, no gimmicks. Leave her alone though."

Observing her, I nod. Might as well.

She nods back, pulling up her dress slightly to reveal a pistol strapped to her thigh.

With ease, she whips it out, puts a bullet in her brother's head. The gun is still smoking when she puts it back. For a moment she bows her head solemnly.

"Buonanimo."

"Let's go," She orders, walking briskly away from me.

I follow her, my finger riding the trigger. I don't have a safety on this gun. If it goes off, it just goes off. It's like Russian Roulette, only I'm playing alone.

She winds through the compound, twisting and turning, until she gets to a large room, with nothing in it but a chair. Not a glorious chair, not a comfortable chair. A whicker chair.

"There's no one here," I sneer, raising my weapon.

Calmly, she walks to the chair and sits. Her eyes lock on mine, as she sits saying nothing for a good five minutes. Then, her lips quirk up in the corner and she snaps her fingers, never taking her eyes off me.

All of a sudden the room is flooding with people, mostly men, probably enforcers. They are all huge, some even dwarfing me.

All the while her eyes never left mine. She snaps once more, and all of them, every one in the run bows to her. I mean really bows.

"All hail the Queen of the South."

A satisfied smirk takes over her features, making her look evil. She smirks at me, and whispers:

"Boo."