The Mafia King's Virgin Healer

Dock negotiation

The atmosphere in the dimly lit back room of Vincenzo's Restaurant was thick with tension. Six men sat around a huge mahogany table, their faces partially obscured by cigar smoke that hung heavy in the air. Amongst them was Pedro, who was sitting at the head of the table, his expression impassive as he watched the man across from him turn progressively redder with rage.

"You can't be serious, Delgado," spat Nikolai Volkov, his Russian accent thickening with anger. "The docks have been Bratva territory for fifteen years. You have no claim there."

Pedro took a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey before responding. "Times change, Nikolai. Your operation has become... inefficient." He set down his glass. "You lost two shipments last month alone. The authorities are circling."

Nikolai's meaty fist slammed onto the table, causing tumblers to jump. "You have spies in my organization?"

Rico and another man standing beside Pedro shifted subtly, their hands moving toward concealed weapons. The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

"It's not a secret anymore, Nikolai," Pedro replied coolly. "The fact remains, your sloppiness is drawing unwanted attention to all our operations. The docks need new management."

"This is an act of war," Nikolai growled, his ice-blue eyes boring into Pedro's. "You understand what you're starting?"

Pedro leaned forward, his demeanor relaxed. "I'm not starting anything. I'm preventing a catastrophe. Your men are undisciplined, your security is compromised, and your leadership..." he paused meaningfully, "is questionable at best."

The two Russians standing beside Nikolai made a visible move, their hands disappearing beneath their jackets, indicating just how this meeting could turn into a bloodbath if something went awry.

"Gentlemen," Don Carlisle, an elderly Italian with silver hair and weathered features, interrupted. "We are here to negotiate, not to shed blood."

"There is nothing to negotiate," Nikolai insisted. "He demands territory that is rightfully ours."

"Rights?" Pedro arched an eyebrow. "We deal in practical realities, not rights. The practical reality is that your operation is becoming a liability to everyone at this table."

"I agree with Delgado," interjected the man to Don Carlisle's right—Marco Esposito, head of the Italian syndicate's eastern faction. "The heat from the Coast Guard has affected my shipments too. Something needs to change."

Nikolai's face contorted with fury. "So you all conspire against me? After decades of peaceful coexistence?"

Pedro's phone began to vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the volatile Russian across from him. "I'm offering you a solution that allows you to save face. Thirty percent of dock operations remain under your control. The rest transfers to me. Your men keep their jobs, just under new management."

"Thirty percent?" Nikolai laughed bitterly. "You insult me."

"Thirty percent of something is better than one hundred percent of nothing," Pedro countered. "Which is what you'll have when the feds shut you down completely."

The phone began to vibrate again, more insistently this time. With a slight frown, Pedro glanced at the screen. Alex's name flashed repeatedly.

"You're not even paying attention!" Nikolai accused, his voice rising dangerously. "This is how much respect you have for this council?"

Pedro raised a placating hand as he rose smoothly from his chair. "A moment, gentlemen. I need to take this call." Something in his tone, perhaps the slight edge of urgency, made even Nikolai fall silent.

He stepped a few paces away, turning his back to the table as he answered. "How's lollipop?"

"Lollipop?" Alex's confused voice came through the line.

"Nevermind, what is it?" Pedro asked impatiently.

"Maya has disappeared, Pedro."

"What?" Pedro exclaimed, standing on his toes in shock, not caring about the curious looks from the men behind him.

For some unknown, weird reason, he felt his heart pounding erratically for the first time in years. He slowly pressed his hand to his chest, wondering what was wrong with him. Was his anger issue becoming worse?

Pedro turned back to the table, his mind suddenly made up. "Gentlemen, we'll have to continue this discussion another time. An urgent matter requires my immediate attention."

"You walk out now, there will be no discussion!" Nikolai threatened, half-rising from his chair.

Pedro's eyes hardened, all pretense of diplomacy evaporating. "Then there will be no discussion. My offer stands until midnight. After that, I take the docks, and you get nothing." He nodded to his men, who immediately moved toward the door.

"This isn't over, Delgado," Nikolai called after him.

Pedro paused at the threshold, looking back over his shoulder. "For your sake, I hope it is." The threat hung in the air as he strode out, his men falling in behind him.

As Pedro headed to the car with his men, Rico suddenly asked, "Boss, are you really going to take the dock like you mentioned? That might be a dangerous move."

Pedro's face hardened as he unlocked his car. "I know. I suspect Nikolai is playing a dirty game, which I plan to find out. Perhaps he knows I'm the only one who would really try to take control of the docks, and that's why he's throwing me the bait. We've hated each other for years and only agreed to work together for business's sake."

"What now, boss?" Rico asked, his hand resting on the car door.

"Patience, Rico," Pedro replied with a calculating smile. "We'll get to see what next step he takes."

****************

"What do you mean she disappeared?" Pedro's voice thundered through the mansion, echoing off marble floors and high ceilings. "You were supposed to be with her, return her to me after making her beautiful, and not lose her!"

Alex flinched, taking an involuntary step back from the fury radiating off him. "S-she suddenly wanted to use the bathroom, and I couldn't stop her," she explained, her usual confidence faltering under his intense glare.

"Aren't you just useless?" Pedro hissed, the words dripping with venom as he advanced toward her.

Alex bit her lip and remained silent, knowing from experience that defending herself would only intensify his rage.

"A simple task I entrusted to you and you couldn't handle it," he continued, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumped along his temple. "What can you handle exactly?"

"I'm sorry," Alex said quietly, her eyes fixed on the floor. Pedro fell silent, pacing the length of the room in a calculating back and forth. His footsteps were rhythmic on the floor; four steps one way, turn, four steps back, while Alex remained frozen, the tension from Pedro's movement making her feel more guilty and uncertain of her punishment.

Finally, she mustered the courage to break the silence. "What now?"

Pedro stopped abruptly, a calculating smile spreading slowly across his face. "There's only one place I'm sure she would visit if she doesn't go home."

"Are you going to track her down?" Alex asked, startled by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"None of your business, witch. Get back to your hospital," Pedro barked, already striding toward the door with his car keys in hand.

As the door slammed behind him, Alex released a shaky breath. "Of course I'm a witch," she laughed awkwardly, pressing a hand to her chest. That was close. She had clearly gone overboard with everything that had transpired between her and Maya. Thank God Pedro didn't suspect it was her fault at all.