The Mafia Don’s little Con Artist

3 - Taken

Hailing a cab was starting to seem like an impossible task. They were all either taken or off duty, so I started to walk home on high alert and trying to call Liz. It was only minutes before my cell chimed a slight warning, then it died.

Great.

I was on the nicer side of the city, for now, but unless I got access to a bus or the subway, it was open season on me. I grew up on the streets, and whether it’s Nevada, Ohio or New York City, creeps are always on the prowl for vulnerable women.

And here I was in a skin tight dress with shoes fit for a stripper.

I nearly turned tail and walked back inside the restaurant, knowing they’d be able to get me a car, but before I could, a large, shiny black Tahoe pulled up beside me. Two large men exited the vehicle and were on either side of me before I could even blink.

Both wore fitted black shirts, and slacks, with giant rings on their fingers. Various scars decorated their faces and hands. These men weren’t to be trifled with.

One look at these guys and I could easily tell that they were mafia. They had visible tattoos, but none that I recognized as family insignias.

The one to my left looked more familiar, but I’ve seen countless families, bosses, and body guards in the club. Too many to keep track.

“Sadit’sya.” He commanded, while the other man opened the car door.

Russian then. Great.

This was obviously not an invitation or a question, let alone an option, and my only chance of surviving was to obey. So I plastered on my best poker face, and slid into the back seat. I sat in the middle seat, sandwiched between two seasoned killers and held my breath during the ten minute drive. They spoke back and forth occasionally, but only in Russian, so I was completely lost. My only comfort was that they seemed rather relaxed and nonchalant about me.

By the time the car came to a halt, I was sure I was as red a tomato, but tried to hide my nerves.

I didn’t ask any questions, or beg for my life. Not even as they guided me from the car and escorted me inside a large building. We entered an elevator and one of the men hit the button labeled “35”. I’m not exactly afraid of heights, but damn.

Whoever I was to be meeting must be important, or they wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble, or been able to afford to. So I opened my handbag and fished around the contents. My sudden movements startled my new friends, and they both faced me warily.

‘Kill me if you want’, I thought to myself, ‘I’m dead if I show up to your boss looking a mess.’

I slowly retrieved my compact mirror and lipgloss, showing my ‘weapons’ to the two guards.

“Svyatoy ad.” One of them muttered in relief. I loosed a breathy chuckle, and reapplied my gloss, checking my hair for any crazy wisps out of place. To my surprise, I didn’t look like a freshly kidnapped victim at all. I put away my things just as the elevator chimed and came to a bumpy stop. I followed both men down a long hallway where one of them knocked loudly on the solid doors at the end.

Someone inside had given the order for us to come in, and I straightened my back, preparing for the worst.

A massive black rolling chair sat on the opposite side of a working desk, facing away from us. When the chair spun around, my heart stopped almost immediately.

“Ah, Privyet babochka!” Aleksadr greeted me. ‘Babochka’? I’d definitely be speaking that into Google translate later.

“Don Morozov, so it was you who..sent for me.” I chose my words carefully. “How can I help you?”

Morozov raised an amused brow at my question, before standing from his seat and walking to a mobile mini bar across the room. He flicked his hand twice, without even looking our way, and the two men ushered me inside before shutting the door, leaving me alone with their boss. s**t. s**t. s**t.

Morozov poured himself a shallow amount of amber liquid, and held out the crystal glass towards me in an offering. I know it’s considered rude to refuse a gift from a Don, but I felt I was better off with all my senses unhindered.

So I approached him cautiously and took the crystal into my own hands.

“Thank you.” I said emptily, for I had no intention of taking even a single sip.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to a brown leather sofa near the bar, and I sat down as instructed.

Morozov sat on the couch across from me, thank god, and lazily slid into a lounge, with his legs spread open and his arms around the back of the couch.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked again, when the silence grew too loud.

He sipped from his glass, and then said, “My men tell me you came without fight.”

“Yes.” I confirmed.

“And you never asked them where they were taking you, or who they were.” He added.

“Yes.” I repeated. Swallowing a small lump in my throat.

“And now you ask if YOU can help ME?” He smirks. “What makes you think I need anything from you?”

“Can I answer honestly?” I inquired.

Morozov sat up and rested both elbows upon his knees and sighed.

“Please.”

I took a steady breath in, and remembered how we were taught to handle situations with these men at the bar. Maintain appropriate eye contact, be firm but respectful, and receive permission before speaking openly.

But most importantly..never tell a lie to a Don, unless you are willing to bet your life on that lie.

“It’s because I’ve been around.. businesses like yours, and men like you for several years now. I know the difference between fetching someone who’s being punished for a crime, wether legal or personal, and someone who’s being acquired for a service..or favor. You sent a brand new vehicle to retrieve me. You assigned to me, the two men whom you believed looked the least threatening. They never touched me, not even to guide me into the car. I could be wrong, but I believe you did that in an attempt to make me feel comfortable. Men in your world, and positions are not in the habit of making dead men..or women..feel comfortable. There is nothing, to my knowledge, that I need from you or your family. And only someone stupid would be so bold as to presume that they have nothing to offer someone like you.” I took a deep breath before finalizing my thoughts.

“I am not stupid, Mr. Morozov. So, how can I help you?”

My heart thundered in my chest, and I crossed my legs in order to prevent them from shaking.

Morozov downed his drink and placed the empty glass on the low set coffee table.

“Impressive observation skills, Sophia.”

I didn’t have to try not to appear shocked that this man knew my name, rather, I had to conceal the shiver of warmth that trailed down my legs at the sound of it rolling off his tongue. His thick Russian accent made my name sound so sensual.

I wasn’t a fool. I knew that any compliments he gave were, at best, for show. Creatures like him like to play with their food. Still..I enjoyed it.

“I have a business opportunity for you. A job. One that I need you for.” Morozov stated simply.