Chapter 2 - I want you to get married

She ran off now full-blown sobbing. I didn’t get to see her features well because of her hasty exit but I had seen a smear of mascara running down the length of her face.

I should be on my way by now. Make a run for it. There was nothing to see but a heartless prick who believe he was God’s gift to women but his phone rang.

I decided to stay back for a second. It wouldn’t hurt to listen in more. I haven’t blown my cover yet and it wasn’t like I will ever see him again. Perhaps, I will see a side of him that is human and not the condescending twat that had just exhibited his lack of sympathy mere minutes ago.

“You know I have always hated men having too much power for so long.” He started. “Especially old men.”

Okay, there goes my theorem of him being more human than I thought and then rolling my eyes, I took a step forward about to walk away.

“And now I have two options. Kill the motherfucker or get myself a  trophy wife that will leave when I get what I want.”

DAMON’S POV

I was having a horrible day, there was no doubt. I had started my day thinking the world was beneath me just like it has always been and ended it by telling off Rebecca the spoilt daughter of the mayor. And, if the shadow looming at the threshold of the door was any indication, I just might have to deal with yet another intruder.

Fuckastic! Like I didn’t have enough to be angry about.

Just what I needed when I go to a club that is supposed to provide exclusivity and ask my shitty best friend who is thirty minutes late to meet up with me. Funny, how so much could change in just mere five hours.

Five hours ago

He had asked me to meet him in his office which was three hours away by road from New York city where I live. It was all power play and I couldn’t help but admire his tact and audacity to play a game with me that I could play even in my sleep. But that was why he was one of the most respected men in the Bravta during his days. Although, recently I have been more invested in my hobby of a conglomerate; buying companies from struggling business owners, splitting their hard work and legacies apart, and reselling at a higher price.

I liked the rush I felt from watching men like them finally bury their pride and ask me the sadist to buy off their drowning business that was dwindling in value by the day and when heirs had to learn being a corporate worker rather late and there was no business somewhere ready to entertain their mediocrity and give them a chair at the table.

But I have had my fun with the corporate world and I needed to get back to the underworld where I truly belonged. If I had emotions, I should be excited about the biggest shipment I have ever delivered into this country; a transaction that I had just concluded last night in the comfort of my sofa while the wipe-ass almost orgasmed to the thought that he was talking to the Damon.

It is almost too easy.

I am a legend around here hence I knew that the invite the man responsible for the borders had extended to me was more for formality. I didn’t need permission to trade here after all.

My shoes resounded against the marble floor as I walked into the office, pretending not to see the people that stood and gawked. Pretending that I didn’t know that the receptionist was transfixed and the personal assistant that showed me into Macauley’s office would have sent me in any way even though my name was not on the iPod she glanced at while she tugged at her hair and gave me very obvious flirtatious glances.

Sometimes, I don’t think I am pretending anymore because most times I don’t even notice their glances. I owned a mirror and have always known I am good-looking. It is funny how that had been one of the things I hated about myself since it reminded me of my sperm donor of a father but there was something dangerous about a man who looked like the devil and was just as sinful.

Let us not even talk about how willing people are to oblige you if you have dimples and good genes. The attention, awe, and the media’s fixation with me wasn’t a deal breaker too because due to their choice of words that depict me as Lucifer on earth, people think twice before crossing me.

“Damon,” an elderly man with grey hair at the edge of his Salt and Pepper hair which he wore with grace stood up as I entered his office and I grinned.

Although he retired from the real dirty works of the Bravta years ago, Macauley Jameson remained on the list of people I find tolerable and that was something because the list was remarkably short.

“Macauley,” I flashed my teeth at him. It wasn’t a grin. I was still upset that he made me come this far to see him.

He wanted to show me his big enough office with its amazing scenic view overlooking the skyline of the city, he wanted me to see that his assistant was bangable and only wore the best designer dresses and his staff weren’t lacking too.

He wanted me to see that he didn’t need my money and I appreciated the subtlety in telling me he will not be intimidated by me but enough of the games, I was a busy man hence I just took my seat wanting to get right into it and not waiting for the courteous bullshit of him offering.

He arched his brow at me but sat down.

“What will you like to drink?” he asked conversationally.

“I’m fine.”

“I have an aged fine scotch that I have been saving for __”

I stared him in the eyes while I crossed my legs, “I want to believe that you didn’t let me come all the way to Binghamton for a drinking buddy.”

“Why is that hard to believe?” I know he was messing around with me for a reaction so I gave him nothing. “You more than anyone know how hard it is to trust anybody when you have been in our line of business.”

“You have a wife to pout and complain to,”

He stared at me for seconds then threw his head back and laugh. The same jolly sound made 10-year-old me find it hard to believe that he had shot a man while discussing scones with me.

“Okay, you lasted longer than I had betted with Grant. Remember Mr. Grant?” I glared at him but that only seemed to encourage whatever games he was playing. “He is my driver and I am 500 bucks poor because I lost a bet to him about you. Want to know what the bet was about?”

“I have work.” I brusquely informed him.

“Of course,” he sighed. “It has been so long since I have spoken to somebody that doesn’t bore me to death and to be fair, you are asking me to let you bring in such a horrendous number of arms to my city so it is only fair that you are down for a little chit-chat right?”

I wanted to remind him that I owned New York now but remembering that nothing comes into this soil if it isn’t approved by him, I decided to keep that to myself.

“You know a lot has changed about the Bravta since we left. Most times I wish that I could step in there and call the shots like old times.” He said wryly with a wistfulness that others will see as an old man merely reminiscing about past days.

But I knew better than to think that this was just a mere comment. The thought that Macauley had invited me to his office more than to prove a point for the first time that day occurred to me.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked and he sure took his sweet time before meeting my gaze, those cunny green eyes of his flickering to the laptop in front of him.

“Heard that most of the men in the Bravta had taken to the trafficking of little children as sex slaves in other countries?”

He was the second in command in the Bravta for more than a decade and hence knew more than anyone that if he was asking for information, he sure as hell won’t be getting any from me.

“I thought you should know more about this than me.” Because I couldn’t resist, I met his gaze. “I thought you own the city.”

He shook his head at me in amusement. “I just wanted to ask you what you think about it.”

I took my time. Of course, even though many people think differently, I was a monster with principles and I drew a hard line with children and women but that was me. I was not big on empathy and it will be hypocritical for me to judge men that have no qualms with doing that kind of business since I am not exactly a saint.

“I am not a trafficker__” I shrugged. “And for those involved in that line of business, I think it is crappy but every man to what they believe in.”

“You are the leader of the Bravta. You rule this city.”

If not for his original comment, I would have given him shit for his latter statement.

“How do you know that? You should know nothing about the Bravta as you are no longer a member.”

He gave me a wry grin and somehow I knew the tables had flipped. What is worst is that I had walked right into this one without knowing and with my head full of shit.

“I want you to get married.”

I stared at him for minutes wanting to believe this was one of his very many bad ideas of a joke but his face remained passive.

Had he just instructed me to get married after mere seconds of informing me that he knew he could end up dead in seconds because of those mere 6 words? I was the Bravta overlord, I hold the key to life and death. If he knows this why was he so keen on digging his own grave?

“I am in charge of the border till I die, Damon, and that was a privilege given to me by the last Bravta,” we all knew that story and that was why I had obliged his request in the first place even though usually it is other people that oblige mine. “And I am sorry but I can’t let you bring in such an amount of ammunition to this country.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Are you scared of losing anything?”

I was as taken aback by his question as I was by his refusal of me.

“No.”

“I thought as much.” He eyed me sadly. “I have two beautiful daughters and Anne my wife. I am scared of losing them, consider them my strength or weakness but until you have something to lose, I can’t trust you enough to think that one day you won’t destroy this very city with those arms.”

“You are refusing a business deal because I am not loved up in a picket fence with a naïve woman on my arm?” I asked in disbelief. “Shouldn’t that be my strength?”

“Yes, it could be. But your indifference and coldness to this extent are frightening. You owe nobody anything, you are scared of nothing.”

“And you think having a wife will fix that, how?”

“It might not but it is a start and I have lots of faith.”

“I don’t know about faith,” I glare at him. “But you have lots of guts saying No to me aware that might cost you your life.”

“Even if you are that kind of man that will take the easy way out, I will die with no regret but you are not. You like a good challenge and I am hoping you won’t disappoint me now.”