The silence in the air was palpable.
Sergei Golgacev was late for our agreed rendezvous, although from experience that was nothing to be concerned or surprised by.
The Russian kept his own time, in spite of any predetermined plans. Such traits would normally cause problems for me, such tardiness was a sign of ill manners, a lack of discipline. The thought process that your time was more important than the time of the person waiting on you was disrespectful and showed to my mind the greatest level of ignorance.
I gave concession to Sergei Golgacev only by virtue of the ultimate gain our third meeting in so many weeks offered. Already I had conceded that despite my disdain for the Muscovite tolerating his perceived power battle was tolerable, the reward tonight would finally see me take possession of five thousand of the innocuous looking yet extremely potent little blue pills of which I had been provided an effective trial of far too many months previously.
Not that any of the pills had ultimately been wasted I consider as my mind lingers on the memory of the conquests achieved under their influence, the most satisfying of which being Hannah Walker the long-term partner of the despicable and now deceased Logan Hughes.
"Why the scowl?" the stunning brunette offered as she stepped before me, a long wide stretch of black marble bar separated the two of us as she set a fresh tumbler of whisky before me.
Laura Mancini looked stunning as ever, dressed tonight practically all in black. She had worn black now for months since the passing of her beloved father. The attire she wore tonight though bore little resemblance to the respectful solemn outfits of a daughter in mourning. A fitted blazer sat over a scarlet red satin bra, the jacket buttoned at the waist accentuating her ample olive-skinned cleavage. I could not see her lower torso from my position but had noted the short tight black skirt sat over black fishnets accompanied by black leather knee boots when she had met me at the rear door of the Dark Star night club a little under an hour earlier.
"Thinking of dog shit I once had the misfortune to step in," I offered quickly and honestly the contempt etched across my face must have been abundantly obvious for Laura to enquire, my ire was only further raised by the memory and knowledge that Laura herself had become embroiled with Hughes.
"That a metaphor?" Laura offered, and I could not work out if she was being astute or naive.
"Logan Hughes," I heard the snarl in my voice. "I believe you were aware of his...existence."
I watch the sheepish almost embarrassed look cross her features, her cheeks blush a little.
"You could say that..." Laura sets her hands firmly upon the bar to hold herself up, "...I'm guessing he wasn't too fond of me after I wrestled this a place from his grasp... somewhat brutally so if I do say so myself."
Laura's composure returned as she assertively referenced the change of ownership, which I knew was as much the responsibility of her now deceased father, Gio. Laura had always been the apple of his eye and as much as I respected Gio I always recognised Laura was therefore a weakness in his personal defence. A weakness I had no need to exploit but one to which I was sure his rivals might test.
"Retribution." I offer quickly followed by a slug of whiskey, to settle my unease at broaching the subject that I was somewhat ill at ease referencing.
"Retribution?" Laura offers a little uncertainly.
"I'm aware... that you and he..." I stammer, "...the arrogant prick... well he once gloated..."
Laura laughs, cutting through my discomfort, a throaty little laugh that belies my perception of her innocent persona.
"Oh Godfather..." she offers with a smirk that borders flirtatious following her throaty laugh, "...I'll spare you all the details of my less than memorable liaison with Logan Hughes... but let's just suggest that I was never not in control of that brief... unspectacular dalliance."
I find myself simply nodding as my eyes meet her dark eyes which narrow instantly.
"So, no need to think less off me..." Laura continues, "He wasn't even shit on the sole of my Louboutin's... even when I stepped all over him."
I grace her with a grin of genuine satisfaction, her blunt repost easing a concern that has gnawed at my conscience for months. Under the circumstance Laura has no need to lie to me and I respect her decision to not impart even the slightest of detail concerning whatever took place between the two of them.
Logan Hughes, lack of grace and decorum had manifest itself deep into my conscience on far too many matters. His memory still festered even following us death. I could not decide why. I could only now bask in the misery he must have faced in his fall from grace prior to his brutal demise. For the second time in as many minutes I consider my conquest of his long-term partner and feel the satisfaction of the memory bring a smirk to my lips, her taught body locked into the pillory at the Warehouse as I claimed her body with ease, penetrating her harshly and deeply before ejaculating into her unprotected womb. I can only but hope he knew the truth before he passed. His Hannah had been my conquest, although there was still one other connection of his whom I truly desired, the lithe little platinum blonde.
"What's with the grin?" Laura offers, snapping me from my thought process.
"Just revelling in that cunts demise," I genuinely offer in response. Earning a further devilish smirk from Laura.
"I should be grateful..." Laura offers looking beyond me into the empty venue, "...without him I wouldn't have this place."
"It's a little quiet tonight in here," I bluntly offer.
"I've only opened because a close family associate needed a meeting place for their surreptitious business dealings... I mean it's not like you haven't your own venue for such illegality."
"Sometimes neutral ground is for the best," I offer with a slightly sardonic grin. "A little over dressed aren't you... if you've nothing better to do?"
"I'm trying... unsuccessfully to keep my acerbic older brother out of this place for the same reason as I let you in," Laura offers, "...And perhaps I've my own rendezvous to attend after you've finished your business."
I decide not to press Laura on her personal affairs, I overlook her savvy, her worldliness, failing often to see the woman she has become. Cast in the shadow of a proud strong Italian family. Her previous comments on Logan Hughes enough proof on such matters. I decide therefore to change the subject matter.
"How is your Brother?... I haven't seen him since..." I stop myself not wishing to reference their Fathers funeral, sensing the underlying hurt the subject still causes. Wounds that have not fully healed.
"Marco?" Laura questions as if she has more than one male sibling, "I believe he's good... so far as I'm aware he shares nothing with me...I suspect he's running more and more drugs through the family business... which would not be approved of by our..."
I hold my tongue conscious two-fold of the Mancini family beliefs and also that I have not informed Laura of the nature of my business tonight with Sergei Golgacev.
"Oh, and he's in love... smitten some little skinny blonde with as an acerbic personality as his own... she's already moved into the home with him... little style and very little substance...goes by Ari or something equally as trashy... I'll give it three weeks."
