DON JULIO
Two newly employed maid set the table, one of them talking to Sarian in her very off English as she placed a jug of coffee on the table. I stood by the window, my back against them as I watched the early morning sun.
Strong coffee and Sarian's sweet perfume blended together to create a scent that quickly became addictive and the air was cool and still. Just the perfect weather for two.
The maids left and I went to the dinning and took a seat opposite her. She poured my coffee and pushed the cup to my directio.
“Good morning,” she smiled m
This was the kind of life I wanted . Not one filled with guns and blood and hate and revenge.
Soft smiles, quiet breakfasts and peace was what every mafia lord needed once in a while.
For twenty years, the smell of guns, oil from the previous night of killings, the bitter taste of stale whiskey and the reports from my trusted men had dominated my mornings.
When governors heard my name, they shuddered and men crossed the street. Fear,
