Ian Cros

My arm ached as I tightened the blue tie around my neck. The gray suit hung tight in the right spots while I stepped back from the mirror, straightening the jacket. I brushed my hand through my hair, away from my eyes.

"You look like one of those business executives that cheat on their wives when they have to stay later at work," Isabella said from the floor while she ate the red licorice candy she found in the cabinets.

I glanced at her in the mirror, smirking. "That's the point."

She rolled her eyes, smacking her lips. "Bet you wish you had a wife to cheat on."

I froze, thinking about how my dad brought home a stripper the last time I visited New York. His penthouse had expensive decorations missing because of her, but he couldn't do anything about it because that meant admitting to my mom he brought home Mango.

Her yellow wig left behind in the bathroom had caused an argument, but they blamed me. I gave no hard feelings toward my mom, though, given my reputation stacked up evidence against me.

I unfroze from my thoughts, chuckling at Isabella. "I have to want a wife first," I said.

"I agree," she replied, standing from the floor.

She strolled to the dresser, grabbing the perfumes my mom had stacked on the vanity. Isabella sniffed a pink bottle and set it back down. She expressed her disgust before picking a yellow jar and spraying it on her wrists.

"Getting married only ends in two ways," she said, rubbing her wrist to her neck. "Death and divorce."

I spun from the mirror and walked to the bed. My red beanie sat on the sheets with my black winter dress jacket.

"When are you going to go home?" I asked, slipping my jacket over my suit. "Don't you like hanging with kids your age?" I placed the beanie in my back pocket.

Isabella shrugged her shoulders. "Kids at my school are dumber than rocks." She pointed at me. "This girl in my class—"

I waved my hand at her. "I don't care," I said, walking out of my bedroom toward the kitchen.

"You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." Isabella shoved by me, racing into the living room.

"If you don't like it—"

Isabella clicked on the television, interrupting me. She faced me with a smile as she turned up the volume. The news about the storm blared while she plopped on the couch.

"New storm warning in effect tonight." A red ribbon about the snow floated at the bottom of the screen. The weather reporter pointed at the city on his map. "Coming from the north, we—"

The elevator door opening had my focus away from the news. Robert strolled into the apartment with his hands in his pockets. He glared at me, stomping.

"Why the fuck do you have the volume this high?" he asked in a deep voice.

Robert froze when he saw Isabella on the couch. She shyly waved at him before clicking off the television.

"Sorry, Mr. Cros," she said in an innocent voice. "I may have had it too high."

Robert didn't reply to her, but glanced at me. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, upset about not having enough time for coffee. "Yes," I replied, aware that Robert would get angry if I didn't speak.

"I'll have Paul take the young girl home before the new storm hits New York." Robert shook his head in disapproval.

Isabella jumped up from the couch. "No need, sir," she said. "I have a ride already."

Robert didn't glance at her, but kept his eyes on me. "She will help herself out," he said, stomping to the elevator and clicking the door open.

I looked at Isabella. "Please go home," I said, hoping she would listen.

Robert cleared his throat while I joined him in the elevator. He clicked the main floor button, crossing his arms over his chest. His angry eyes scanned me.

"Last name?" Robert asked, punching the elevator stop button.

The elevator shook to a stop while the red light blinked on. I grabbed the bar, leaning against the mirror. The high-pitched beeping echoed around us.

"Last name?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

Robert stepped near, causing me to straighten up. His finger poked my chest.

"The little girl." He glared with a scuff. "Is her family important?"

I shook my head. "No, she's just a child that attached herself to me." Rolling my eyes, I shuffled around him and clicked the button to get the elevator moving. "She's bored with her life and harmless."

My dad pulled out his phone as the doors opened. "Shake her, or I'll do it for you."

He walked off the elevator toward Paul at the front desk. Paul eyed me longer than I expected. His eyes narrowed as he scanned my body. He knew about the abuse from my dad, making sure it didn't show.

"I parked the car out front, but there are closed roads," Paul said, looking at Robert.

"Return the car." Robert buttoned his jacket. "The meeting is just a couple of blocks away." He glanced at me. "We will walk."

"Okay, sir." Paul pulled his hat on, turning away from us.

Robert paused. "Oh, and Paul, make sure the little girl in Ian's room leaves."

Paul side-eyed me with a nod while I rolled my eyes. I followed Robert to the side entrance, hearing the paparazzi at the front. Robert pulled a hat on before flipping the hood on his jacket. I stayed a few steps back from him while he smoked a cigarette.

My dress shoes sloshed into the wet snow while thick flakes fell from the surrounding buildings. The empty street full of snow had kids throwing snowballs at each other.

Robert glanced over his shoulder at me, pausing for me to catch up. "Ian, when we get there," he said with a cough. "Sit and zip it."

I glared at my feet while the steam from a vent in a building puffed around us. "This isn't my first meeting," I replied.

Robert grabbed my upper arm, bringing his face near mine. "Those were child's play," he said through his teeth. "Top floor." His eyes twitched. "Sit and zip it." He threw me slightly and stepped into the tall building, leaving me behind.

A private car honked at the kids and pulled up to the curb beside me. The driver stepped out, racing around the car to the door. A woman in a tight black dress stepped onto the snowy sidewalk with her tall heels. Her dark hair fell curly to her ass while she peeked at me with her brown eyes.

She smiled without showing her teeth. Her driver raced to the door of the building my dad had just entered and opened it for her. The heels on her feet clicked with every step while I followed behind her.

Her dress stopped at the right spot, showing off her muscular legs. The woman's hips swayed as she walked toward the elevator. Her ass bounced perfectly with a firm shake.

"Are you going to introduce yourself or just keep staring at my ass?" Her Italian accent was smooth, like an expensive porno.

I smirked, pressing the elevator button. "Depends on how well the elevator ride goes."

Her giggles filled the air around us while the doors opened. I waved for her to go first. She bit her lip, stepping by me into the tiny area. Checking over my shoulder, I joined her. She clicked the top floor while I leaned against the back wall.

"Floor?" she asked.

"Same," I replied.

"So only about ten seconds," she said while the doors closed.

I stepped closer to her while she turned around quickly. Her lips connected with mine as her hands roamed my suit. A moan escaped her mouth when I entangled my hand in her hair.

I pulled her face back, kissing her neck. Trailing my lips down, I let my breath tickle her skin to the tops of her breasts. Her warm hands traced my abdominals.

I glanced up, quickly grabbing the back of her neck, bringing our mouths together. Her nails scratched my skin while my tongue touched hers. She slightly giggled when the elevator shook to a stop.

She shoved me off of her, inspecting herself in the mirror. The woman brushed her hair while I fixed my manhood. Tucking my shirt back into my pants, I watched the doors open to a room with a lady at a metal desk.

The random woman peeked at me before she left the elevator and walked past the receptionist.

I smiled at the girl behind the desk, strolling to her counter. "Ian Cros," I said. "A meeting with Robert Cros."

She grinned, pointing the same way the Italian woman walked. "Last door on the right."

"Thank you."

I strolled down the hallway, noticing the new wood floor with plastic covering it. I glanced around, seeing they had everything new on the walls. The glass door ahead slightly opened while someone paused between the frames. I stopped before them, causing the short man to look at me.

"Ian!" he yelled with a deep Italian accent. "Come sta?"

I shifted my gaze to my dad through the door, not knowing who this man was. With an awkward smile, I nodded my head. A long glass table sat in the center of the room with eight empty chairs. The windows along the wall stretched to the floor, giving a view of New York.

The man patted my back, bringing me into the room. "How are you, Ian?" he asked. "I know you don't recognize me, but—"

I eyed him. "Mr. Pesci," I said, recognizing him finally.

"Salute!" he yelled. "You were not older than ten the last time I saw you."

He nodded his head, scanning his eyes down my body. His rough hands grabbed my shoulders, squeezing them tight.

"Come sit," Robert said, pointing at a chair while he pulled out the one beside it.

I stepped from Mr. Pesci, seeing the woman from the elevator sitting at the table. Her smile dropped when she noticed me.

"This is my wife," Mr. Pesci said.

I coughed, widening my eyes at her.

"I know." Pesci straightened his tie. "Young and beautiful."

She held her hand out across the table toward me. "You can call me Bianca," she said.

I leaned over the table, placing my hand on hers. Bianca's thumb brushed my palm while her eyes lingered on my body.

"Ian," I replied, removing my hand and glancing at Pesci. "When did you remarry?" I asked, picturing his ex-wife's face in my head.

Robert and Pesci looked at one another with a chuckle. Pesci shook his head, rubbing his forehead.

"The devil is in hell," Pesci said, causing my dad to chuckle.

My jaw dropped. "I'm sorry for your loss. I didn't know," I replied, sitting in the chair and bringing myself closer to the table.

Pesci waved off my comment, sitting across the table beside Bianca. "No, she's in Florida, spending all my money."

A woman in a red dress strolled into the room with a tray of drinks. She had her hair pinned into a ponytail. The heels on her feet clicked, but not as loud as Bianca's. She circled the table, setting alcoholic drinks in front of every chair, even the ones without someone sitting.

The lady stopped at the door, turning to look at us. "Mr. Costa and Ferrari will be here in five," she said, looking at Robert.

"Thank you, Racheal. Bring them in ten minutes," he replied, grabbing the papers in the middle of the table.

"Yes, sir," she replied, leaving the room.

Pesci slid a piece of paper toward my dad. "Sign this one first."

A nudge on my leg had me glancing over at Bianca. Her brows raised while her foot slid up my pants between my legs. With a cough, I gripped her foot, removing it from my chair.

Robert signed a few papers while Pesci organized them. Pesci laughed, glancing at me while he grabbed Bianca's chin, forcing her to kiss him.

"Last one, and we continue to our fun," Pesci slid the last paper across while my dad exhaled, signing it.

Pesci handed all the papers to Bianca, and she stood up, organizing them into a briefcase. She bent over to set the case on the floor when Pesci grabbed her upper leg, bringing her dress up. Her ass showed while she chuckled and looked at me.

"Beautiful, right?" he asked me. "We are an open relationship as long as you let me watch."

Bianca slapped his hand away while Robert shook his head.

"Not my son, Pesci," my dad angrily said.

Bianca ruffled her dress down. "He's joking," she said with an upset smile. "Don't fall for his tricks."

Pesci brought his hand across his neck, telling me he would kill for her. "Don't touch," he said, keeping his eyes on me.

I brought my palms up. "Of course."

Robert lost all his expressions on his face while he watched Pesci. I swallowed hard, sinking into the chair a little more while Bianca walked to the corner of the room and placed the briefcase with other items.

The door opened slowly as Racheal held it. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on Robert.

"They are here," she said, shifting her gaze to me. "I will get the clean-up supplies now."

"Thank you, Racheal," my dad said, standing from the table.

Two enormous men stumbled into the room with another man in their arms. They tossed the man on the table, causing his limp body to slide across the glass, stopping at the edge before me. The cloth bag over his head smelt of chloroform. I stood quickly, covering my mouth in shock, and stumbled slightly. My palms touched the floor, finally noticing the plastic covering under the table.

"Get up, boy," Robert said, prompting the two sizeable men to laugh like hyenas.

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