The waiters were dressed in impeccable, black-tie attire, as they scurried everywhere, with the purpose of serving today's delicacies to perfection. The air was charged with a different energy in the Millers' mansion today. Everybody's on guard, security had been doubled all round, and the not so quiet mansion was even buzzier than ever today.
Another Mafia family had arrived at the mansion, and they came, bearing nothing but sour news. Whilst the visitors were in a state of panic, the host wasn't bothered at all, but he was fuming. Someone had dared to cut off one of his networks! Putting his business in Italy on hold.
Who the fuck would be so stupid as to cross him, perhaps, they didn't know Francesco answered to him? He knows he needs to respond in kind, his men had been working nonstop trying to track the killer, it's only a matter of time, he would use the ignorant killer as an example to all who would dare to defy him in future.
The dining room of the Miller's mansion was a majestic space that exuded opulence and refinement. With a ceiling that soared to over 20 feet, the room felt airy and expensive. The walls were made with rich, hand-painted murals depicting scenes of Tuscan vineyards and rolling hills, adding a touch of old-world charm. Marcello Bianchi, his wife, Isabella and his son, Riccardo had arrived in the US last night, accompanied by several other mafia members, including Riccardo's best friend Lorenzo.
He just clicked with the guy the moment they met, at one of his dad's clubs, beating the shit out of the bouncer because he was kept in que, while several girls had been allowed to enter before him, since he'd got no boobs to flash to get his way, he had let his fists do the flying. Riccardo was immediately intrigued, and since then had become inseparable with the young Italian man.
The death of Francesco Luiz would have been shrugged off if it weren't for the manner in which he was killed. Riccardo couldn't get the image out of his mind, and anytime he remembered.
"E arrabbiato. Pens ache siamo incompitenti" (He's angry. He thinks we're incompetent)
Marcello said, sat in one of the throne-like chairs in the living room of the quarter assigned to him. He didn't like the Miller's Don, he thought him to be rude, but yet, he admired the young man and the way that he ruled. He ruled with an iron fist, and Marcello envied him, he envied the loyalty and devotion the young man commands. Although he was once the right-hand man, and best friend of the Don of the De Rossi mafia, Marcello killed Alessandro because he hated being restrained, but Jordan, Jordan gave him freedom, albeit, he answers to the young Don, he wasn't restrained in anyway.
"What? He must be out of his damn mind! If it were so easy, why hasn't his men tracked down the Hollow yet?" Riccardo raised his voice.
"Don't raise your fucking voice! They don't know the Hollow killed Francesco"
Riccardo was a little bit confused at first as to why his father had kept that information from the Millers' until it all clicked. They couldn't just disclose it over a zoom call, Jordan would not have let them come here, to his base, in his city. The main reason why everyone in the underworld feared the Hollow, was not because of the way she kills, no, it was because no matter how, far, dangerous or heavily guarded are targets were, she would always finish the mission, successfully. She has the highest success rate in the mafia world, she has never lost a target. That was what instilled fear in people. The Hollow only ever does highly classified missions, the De Rossi hired her a lot, seeing as they had too many enemies.
Marcello would have hired her to execute his betrayal, but he feared Alessandro may have developed some certain degree of relationship with the Assassin, and may discover his treachery. Although no one knows her face, and she only ever communicates anonymously with a dark web she developed herself called "Uccisione" the only account found there is only hers, every other person continued a guest.
"Comepensi che reagirebbe" (How do you think he would react).
Riccardo asked his father, his tone low, he feared Jordan, he was older than the Miller's Don with a year, but yet feared him. it would be imprudent not to. Marcello's reply was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.
"Sir, you've been summoned for breakfast". The voice of the young waitress rang from the other side of the door.
"We'll be down soon."
Riccardo opened the door slightly to reply the waitress, before closing it back and turned to face his father.
"Why are you staring at me? I don't know Ricc, go get your mother. I'm starving."
Reorted, the bald headed man, with dark green orbs, and neatly trimmed full beards that covered his chin, cheeks and jawline. Attired in his signature tuxedo, this time in color black.
They all settled around the room's centerpiece, a stunning, custom-made dining table crafted from a single slab of cultured mahogany. The table surface gleamed like dark glass, reflecting the soft glow of the crystal chandelier suspended above. The table seated 20 comfortably, with ample elbow room for formal dinners. Pleasantries were exchanged, casual small talks held the tone.
"I hope your quarters are to your likings, and the shift isn't too hard to navigate?"
Bryson Miller, former Don of the Miller Mafia, made an attempt at small talk.
"Ah yes! yes, everything is fine eh, everything is alright". Marcello responded in kind, his Italian accent thicker than fog.
"Right Ricc?" He asked in an exertion to include his son in the ongoing chit-chat, he was met with silence, Riccardo had other plans that only involved the staring of the one and only Miller's daughter. When she waltzed into the dining room, all eyes focused on her, briefly, before turning their attention back to their respective discussions, everyone except Riccardo, poor dear was entranced. He couldn't tear his eyes off of her delicate heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and a pointed chin. Her big, bright and expressive brown eyes that seems to sparkle with creativity that matched her medium to dark brown skin, like caramel, her small nose, slightly upturned, gave her a youthful appearance, crowned with a full and plump lips. She is a beautiful blend of her parent's features.
"You will do well to never stare at her again, if you so wish to keep your eyes."
His voice rose above the din, clear and commanding. A stunned silence swept the room. an unmistakable aura of power precedes him, the air seemed to thicken, and the atmosphere became heavy with tension.