Secret Daughter Of Mafia Don

Mafia's Daughter Works In A Coffee Shop

"Where do I start? The head and give you a quick death? Or a limb? Give you a slow, painful death, like your dad would have."

"W-what are you doing?" Peter gasped as my hand tightened on the trigger.

However, I didn't even look at him, continuing to talk to the dog, who seemed to have taken a liking to him: "You're a good dog..." I stroked his fur: "But my gun is more important!"

"No, wait!" Peter barked a few seconds before I pulled the trigger.

"I'll tell you the truth," Peter quickly added, "But first you have to promise me not to hurt him; he's the only family member I have left."

I lowered the gun. "I don't make promises."

"Then where is the guarantee that you won't hurt him?" Peter shouted. He was so tired of his games.

"That's the problem, you don't want to. So you can either blindly trust me or tell me where my gun is, or you can keep quiet, and I will slowly and painfully finish off the dog right before your eyes. The choice is yours," I told him with a smile.

Psychopath.

"Okay," Peter agreed.

I simply signaled, and the lady from earlier came over and took the dog from me, disappearing from view.

"Well, talk nonsense," I crossed my legs, assuming I was getting down to business.

Peter licked his bloody lips. "I don't have your guns, Romans," he admitted.

"Don't play with me!" I growled at him.

Who was he kidding? An entire arsenal was gone! Although the financial loss was trivial to me, it had negative consequences in the long run.

If my guns became common on the streets, not only would I lose market value, but the crime rate would also go up. , and the authorities would start spying, which I was not prepared for now. In short, I either needed to get the gun before it was sold or control it after it was sold; both options were now difficult task.

"I only gave him the address of the armory."

I jumped to my feet. "Yes, you gave him the address to steal my gun. Who is this?"

"Elijah," Peter admitted. "He is a known mercenary; all I had to do was give him the address, and I would get my money."

"But then we caught you," I added smugly. Then I pointed the gun at him. "Thanks for the information."

Peter's eyes widened. "No, you can't kill me."

"But you asked for it less..." I looked at my watch. "Three minutes ago." Yes, I was so observant and smart.

"I can still be useful to you. "I gave them the address of your armory. I can still contact them or something and get your gun back, Roman," he begged.

"Oh, don't worry, Peter. You're no longer needed."

"No, you don't know..." Peter swallowed, and it hit him. "You knew I didn't have a gun."

I rubbed my chin, saying, "Yeah, I suspected you didn't have a gun, but I needed to confirm my theory and continue my investigation. Thanks for helping me."

"You don't know Elijah like I do. He's a ghost, and if he doesn't want to be caught, you can't track him down."

"There's no one, Roman De Luca, can't catch. Besides, if you betrayed me once, you can betray me again." I pulled the trigger.

"No, please don't."

Bang!

The bullet hit him between the eyes. Clean shot.

Roman tossed the gun to Tony, who quickly caught it. "You know what to do with the body."

Peter's body will be hung in Times Square for all my enemies to see and know. Oh, don't worry, I'm kidding. He'll be buried where no one will ever find him.

See? I'm so merciful that I gave him a proper burial. Other gangs would have just thrown such a betrayal into the ocean for the sharks to eat.

"Sir, what should I do with this?" My assistant asked. Macy caught up with me on the street, referring to the dog she was holding.

I looked at the dog indifferently. "Take him to me and feed him to Samson..." I froze, as if considering my options, when the dog whined, looking at me sadly, as if knowing its fate was sealed.

Damn, how I hated that look.

“Take care of it.”

“Also, sir,” my assistant stopped me, “You have an appointment.”

I froze in place, my brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t remember having an appointment until now.”

“It was an emergency.”

“An appointment with who?”

“Your fiancé.”

“Oh, great.” My lips curled in bitterness. What a nightmare.

“She’s having a party tonight and she wants you to come.”

“Tell her I’m busy.”

“She said you should forget about the engagement if you don’t come,” Macy told him.

I ran a hand through my already tousled hair. “Okay. I’ll be there,” I said, and drove away, climbing into my car, which was already waiting for me in the driveway.

"Where are we going, sir?" my driver asked.

"A place that sells strong coffee."

***

Elena

"Elena, are you just coming to work now?" my boss, a tetchy forty-five-year-old with a receding hairline, shouted.

"Of course not, sir," I replied, fiddling behind the counter. My boss was an odd man and a typical traditionalist. If you looked him in the eye while he was giving orders, he would say you were challenging his authority.

In any case, if you avoided his gaze, he would say you were looking down on him.

But then, there are many ways to fool a cat, so each of his employees had come up with their way of dealing with his tantrums, and that was how they had survived so far.

However, if I could outlive my father and my witcher brother, then nothing would be impossible for me.

"What do you mean, of course not?" He sneered, "Never seen you before."

"Sir," I replied calmly, "I was inside, putting away boxes of orders, boxes of produce, and ingredients." I lied through my teeth.

As a professional liar, I added, "If you don't believe me, ask Mimi." I nodded toward my friend, who had returned with a tray she had been serving customers on.

"Yes, sir, Elena was here; she was just busy," Mimi supported her best friend. The boss was about to grumble incredulously, knowing that Mimi was my best friend and would naturally support me, when another employee walked past them, said, "It's true. I saw her," and walked away. But not without a wink when the boss looked away.

I smiled at Julian, the guy who helped me. Here we were like a family and always supported each other, knowing that our boss was a difficult person.

To tell the truth, I was only five minutes late for work, and I was not a hardened offender; the boss did not want to hear about it. He only cared about his profit, not even the well-being of his employees. This man loved money so much that it was almost an obsession.

Not finding me guilty as charged, our boss snorted and walked away. Mimi and I let out a choked laugh, but quickly pulled ourselves together, knowing that the boss would be watching us; he was like a fly that wouldn’t go crazy and was annoying.

Their elegant cafe is located in the city’s bustling business district. Sculptural walls and a chandelier in the shape of a coffee bean hanging above the bar.

The ceiling extends beyond the facade, creating a covered outdoor seating area, and is equipped with a round bar counter clad in black marble. So for those who don’t have time to drink their morning cup of coffee on the way to work, the place has both cozy and outdoor seating areas.

I chose this job not because I liked making coffee, but because I wanted to earn money, and perhaps this is where we were similar to the boss. A lover of money.

As my father and Tony used to tell me, "Survive on your own, don't hide behind us anymore." I got this job with Mimi's help. Now I was here in a different persona, and no one was organizing me like I belonged to a mafia family.

"Hey, hey!" Mimi rushed towards me, returning from serving another table. "You know what?"

"You found your lover," I replied, not looking up, busy with the beans.

Mimi gasped theatrically. "How do you know?"

"Because we've talked about it a hundred times."

"Really?"

I sighed, shaking my head sympathetically. Mimi might be my friend, but she was a hopeless romantic. But my daughter Wendy likes her so much.