Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“I only do dangerous things.” I hit the button for the elevator.
She came up behind me. “Just…be careful.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder before I stepped into the elevator. “You’re the one who should be careful.”
When I arrived at the estate, they patted me down for guns then allowed me inside.
I came alone because I was fearless.
They were the ones that wanted something from me—after all.
I moved through the impressive grand entryway, past the butler, and into the parlor where I’d meet the infamous Napoleon. Rich from blood diamonds in Africa, he wanted to be a distributor to that continent, which meant he needed a big cut of product from us on a regular basis.
He had men and butlers throughout the house, perhaps to show his status, but the parlor was empty except for him. He didn’t rise from his chair to greet me. “Magnus.” He nodded to the couch in front of me.
I took a seat directly across from him.
His hand rested on the top of his cane, which had a diamond in the pommel. He wasn’t my age, but he was too young a man to be helpless without a cane, though a life in the fast lane resulted in injuries that never really healed. “What’s your poison?”
“The same as yours.”
He snapped his fingers, bringing a butler into the room. “Open a red. Barsetti Vineyards.”
The butler retrieved the bottle, opened it in front of us, and poured two glasses.
We were silent during the process, nothing but eye contact.
The butler left the bottle behind and disappeared.
I took a drink then set it down.
He didn’t touch his.
“How much product do you want?”
“Africa is a big place…”
“We’re loyal distributors, so we can’t back out of commitments with other clients. I can give you what we have, but it won’t be enough for a continent that size.”
“Can’t you get more?”
I relaxed into the leather couch, crossing one ankle and resting it on the opposite knee. I took my time answering the question, always keeping my cards to my chest, regardless of how innocent the question seemed. “Like I said, Africa is a big place. We’ll never get enough product to satisfy such a large area. We can negotiate a specific amount—and nothing more.”
“Is that why you haven’t moved your enterprise into Italy? Because you don’t have enough?”
This was starting to feel like an interrogation—and I didn’t like that. “Italy is already claimed by the Skull Kings. Pointless to break into that market. France is our territory, and we respect the territory of others.” Italy had an extensive underground criminal underworld, and for us to cross the border and infiltrate such a place would be an undertaking unworthy of our time. If Napoleon wanted to compete with other kingpins in Africa, we had nothing to do with that. Our hands were clean.
Napoleon stared with his steely gaze, watching me with a poker face nearly as good as mine. His wine was untouched, and he gripped his cane like he might need it to fight me off if this conversation didn’t go the way he wanted.
“If you want to be a dealer, we have rules. Abide by those rules, and we don’t have a problem.”
Silence.
“Are you still interested?”
“Very.”
I didn’t ask how he intended to smuggle the drugs into Africa because it was none of our concern. Once he paid for the product, the transaction was finished. “I will take your interest into consideration. You can expect a phone call with our answer.” I rose to my feet. “Thank you for the wine.”
“Your answer?” he asked, slightly amused. “Didn’t realize there was an application process.”
I stared down at him, seeing his crossed legs, his navy-blue suit rising up and revealing his maroon socks underneath. “We don’t accept just anyone. It’s the reason we’ve been in business so long…”
I sat on the couch and watched Fender walk into the sitting room, his black sweatpants low on his hips and his bare chest in view. A scotch was in his hand, and he took a drink as he sat across from me. “How’d it go?”
“I don’t like him.”
He held the glass in his hand. “You don’t like anyone, Magnus.”
I was more than cautious; I was paranoid. Trust was impossible to earn from me. They could say all the words I wanted to hear, but the content of the conversation meant nothing. It was the energy in the room. Betrayal had a scent, had a spirit, and I certainly felt it in Napoleon’s company. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why?”
I shook my head. “He asked questions I didn’t appreciate.”
“Such as?”
“Why we haven’t crossed the border into Italy.”
“Maybe it’s because he intends to.” He took a drink. “Wish him luck.”
“I don’t think—”
Melanie’s voice interrupted us. “Fender?”
I looked at my watch and saw the hour. It was almost midnight.
He looked up at her. “Yes?”