The spread of food before them was fit enough to be served to a king and queen of a kingdom.

Angelo had led their party to the deck where an oval shaped table, covered with a chocolate-colored tablecloth which had an insignia of an anchor on the four corners of it.

Glasses of champagne, and high ball glasses were also set on the table, along with a bucket holding an unopened bottle of champagne with a label she couldn't read.

Platters of food ranging from Chicken pâté on crostini, Balsamic tomato & Mozzarella skewers to something one of their hostesses called camarao ao alho e oleo, and coxinha.

There were other dishes whose names she couldn't recall, but that didn't make them any less appetizing.

There were five chairs set around the with the same anchor insignia on it, and Angelo held out the one closest to him for her, and waited until she was seated before pulling out his own chair.

It was only after they were seated that the other three followed suit.

By then, the yatch was slowly approaching open waters, seeing as the captain started the engine immediately Angelo invited the pair of them to lunch.

Elodie breathed in deeply the salty smell of the ocean, reveling in the gentle breeze caressing her face.

"Gentlemen, please help yourself," Angelo invited, spreading both hands out and wide, gesturing at the feast before them.

Without a word, the men set out to do as he'd instructed, each grabbing a plate from the stack beside them and helping themselves.

Elodie sat with her hands folded in her laps, his warning still fresh on her mind.

One of the women she'd seen on her first visit to the yatch appeared from the rear of the ship bearing another bottle of chilled wine. This one was opened.

She poured a generous amount of the liquid into their glasses after cleaning them with a white towel, then left with the remaining contents of the bottle.

From her peripheral view, Elodie watched as Angelo also helped himself to some of the food, swallowing as she watch him spear a shrimp with his fork and brought it to his mouth.

This went on for a few minute, and she grew more tense, digging her fingers into the meat of her thighs.

"How's the waste Management in San Francisco going?" Angelo suddenly asks out of the blue, startling Elodie into sitting up right in her chair, ears perked.

Fabian, who was mid-chew, quickly swallowed down his food, face turning red with the effort and replied,"Good, Don."

"And the weasel?"

"He got your message loud and clear, Don," Fabian said, looking less red now, and more like his granite-self. "Just last week, the Moglie esecutiva found the head of her German Shepard on her lawn with the note 'Welcome to the market,' in its stiff jaw."

Elodie swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the image that conjured.

Whoever the unlucky person who recieved that gift was, she didn't evny them at all.

Angelo reached for his glass of water instead of wine and took a sip from it, nodding as though he was confirming something.

"From now till the end of this meeting, use English only," he instructed, pausing to look each man in the eye until they got the message loud and clear.

"Emilio, how's business in the casino?"

"It's going well, Don." Emilio, prehaps sensing that he was next, wisely kept his hands away from his plate. "We had two incidents last week at the one in Sunset Strip, but it was swiftly taken care of. I also heard that there's a new chief of police who's been breathing down the neck of the manager in Winnemucca. But I've paid him a visit and he's fallen in line. Promises that nothing of the sort would happen again.

"Reno seems to be the hotbed of tourists right now, so I've been thinking that why don't we expand more into that territory?"

Elodie saw Angelo lean back into his chair, wiping his fingers with his napkin, done with his food it would seem.

"What do you think, Fabian?"

Having learned his lesson too, Fabian had long abandoned his food. "Your word is final, Don. You lead, we follow."

Before she could ponder on what type of answer that was, Angelo hummed in agreement, satisfied with the deference.

Hmm.

So the bastard wasn't only bossy with sex?

Nope.

No.

Don't you dare go there.

"I'll consult my consigilere and see what to do about that."

Angelo produced a Cuban Cigar from the inner pocket of his jacket, a cutter in the other hand, proceeding to trim the edge so prettily, then also magicked a silver lighter with that same anchor insignia on it, and lit it up.

"What do you know about the Tsar Bomba?"

Fabian, Emilio and Luciano exchanged brief glance, then seemed to reach an agreement about who would be speaking.

"Three days ago, it was stolen from some secret government base in Russia," Luciano began. "After its test detonation over Novya Zemlya Island in the Arctic Ocean in nineteen sixty-one, the Russian government have been doing everything in its power to keep it a top secret. Last anyone heard, it's been destroyed because of how formidable it was."

"How formidable are we talking about?" Angelo inquired, inhaling a puff from his cigar.

Luciano's smile reminded Elodie of a shark in blood infested waters. "Tsar Bomba was dropped over the Mityushikha Bay test site on the deserted island of Novaya Zemlya. It exploded about 2.5 miles above the ground, producing a mushroom cloud more than 37 miles high; the flash of the detonation was seen some 620 miles away. The resulting damage was equally massive. Severny, an uninhabited village 34 miles from  ground zero, was leveled, and buildings more than 100 miles away were reportedly damaged. In addition, it was estimated that heat from the blast would have caused third-degree burns up to 62 miles distant."

Fabian and Emilio swapped a look of stupefaction, while a cloud of thunder gathered above Angelo's brows.

"Luciano, speak in layman's terms for those of us who don't speak nerd."

"It's the deadliest weapon ever created, Don," Luciano paused, watching his boss through the faint smoke of his cigar. "This is a bomb that doesn't need to touch the floor before it detonates. Four kilometers above the ground and it could wipe out a whole country and it's neighbors. It reaches about one hundred and sixty kilometers away from where it was detonated. Not to mention the sixty kilometer high mushroom cloud it'd create. Once activated, it can't be stopped."

"Hell," Fabian muttered under his breath.

"If I am bold enough to ask, Capo, are you looking to buy it?" asked Luciano.

"I don't know yet," Angelo chuckled so softly, that if she wasn't listening in on them, she'd have thought it was a trick of the breeze wafting off the water around them. "Someone's offering to steal it right from under Medvedev's nose. For the right price, of course."

"And how much are discussing, Don?"

"A hundred Billion," Angelo replied. "And that's in Kuwaiti dinar, not dollars," he added.

Luciano kissed his teeth. "Moving around that much will raise so many brows. Even dollars take weeks to be white-washed."

"In forty-eight hours the deal will be off and the bastard will go to the next highest bidder. But you have twenty-four hours to make that possible. We'll be using a legitimate source to get the money across, so make sure it's all traceable."

"Wouldn't we be risking exposure by rushing this, Don?" Emilio cut in.

Luciano's cutting dark eyes shifted to him. "Medvedev isn't a man to be trifled with. Him having the Tsar Bomba in his possession is a red flag enough. Don't forget that he trafficks little children and women, and does everything we stand again. There's no doubt he has plans for this particular toy. So, if we're doing anything, then we need to act fast."

Fabian, who had been quiet up until then, took the reins of the conversation: "If we're operating under the assumption that the weapon is ours already, what happens after we close the deal?"

"That's for me to decide," Angelo replied, body coiling tight. "You do your jobs. Do you have anymore questions for me?"

The three men shook their heads.

Angelo stuck the tip of his cigar in between his teeth and slowly clapped. "Well, then, gentlemen, now that that's settled, let's move to the next thing on today's itinerary."

An instant later, the hostesses returned to take away their plates with food still in them, leaving the platters still filled with food, and an ashtray for Angelo who merely eyed the silver tray before pushing it to the middle of the table.

"Gentlemen, I believe we're all familiar with what happens to people who betray the family."

It wasn't a question.

All three men on the other side of the table looked instantly uncomfortable: shifty eyes, fidgeting with their cuffs or lapel, shoulders climbing higher.

Elodie wasn't one to read a person's body language but even she could taste the change in the air.

There was some type of tension cracking in the air like a bull rider's whip.

It was almost tangible.

"So, imagine my shock when I learned that someone has been taking more than what he is allowed to take."

Again, neither men spoke.

They must be reflecting on whatever past sin they committed without Angelo's express permission.

A bead of sweat made an appearance from Emilio's hairline, trailing down the right side of his face.

She'd heard of people sweating bullets before, but never witnessed it first hand.

Elodie's own muscles began to clench one after the other as she also waited with anticipation of what was to come.

Emilio must be the one with the secret because he kept shifting the most in his chair, and looked as though a sudden shout would topple him over.

"This person not only killed the President Ziliani Curbastro back in Franciacorta, but also went as far as taking his vineyard and the ownership of his estate in my name. Which was a mistake on their part."

Angelo placed the sti burning cigar in the tray, stood up, taking off his jacket, then his cufflinks, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, showing off his bronzed forearm.

Elodie swallowed.

"He was like a brother to me," he was still saying. "I don't want to have to fish you out myself, so just speak up now."

Elodie's was watching Emilio, waiting for him to confess, but she was taken aback when the real culprit stood up, pushing his chair away from the table.

"He was being disrespectful to you, Don, so I had to take care of him."

Angelo narrowed his eyes, molten irises blazing. "You couldn't report him to me first?"

"You're so soft-hearted. You'd have let him off the hook."

"Hold him down," the command was snapped.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, two men in suit materialized from both sides of yatch like a genie in a bottle, and before the betrayer could blink, he was being pushed back into his chair, held down by his shoulders.

"W-what are you doing?" The first trace of fear was staining his voice now.

Calmly, as though he hadn't issued the command that someone be held down, Angelo picked up his burning cigar and rounded the table to where his prey was seated.

"You know, I liked you so much, Fabian," Angelo said in a cool tone. "I never imagined that you'd go behind my back to kill a man and his family for your selfish gains."

Fabian looked like a Zebra who'd just spotted a cheetah lurking in tall grass. "N-no. It wasn't like that, I swear it."

The sizzle of burning flesh was something Elodie never wanted to hear again.

In fact, the putrid smell of meat frying made her swear off all meat in the distant future.

Fabian squealed like a dying pig as the lit end of the cigar was pressed deeper into his ear canal.

His body spasmed, legs kicking the table and shifting it each time.

Hot fat liquid poured from his tear ducts, rolling down his cheeks like drops of rain on a window pane.

Emilio and Luciano watched on with blank faces, both rigid and straightened in the seats, eyes never straying.

Elodie had looked away twice, breathing through her open mouth to avoid embrassinb herself.

"Look at you crying like a fucking
Bambino," Angelo spat in Fabian's face, leaning in until they were staring at each other eye-to-eye. "Fottuto bugiardo. Ladro scopa."

"Please," Fabian meweled, eyes blown wide.

Angelo leaned back, reaching for the lone steak knife before Elodie. "Regret is the most painful thing you can experience in life. That feeling of not being able to reverse time. But, like you already know, it's too late."

She watched in what looked like a slowmo as Angelo buried the knife to the hilt in the hollow in Fabian's neck.

The wet sounds he made as he choked on his own blood would haunt Elodie for the rest of her life.

Blood trailed out from the edges of the knife, running in all directions, spreading and rapidly soaking the white shirt underneath his jacket.

"He is fish food," Angelo told the men still holding Fabian.

Both men nodded, then, proceeded to haul the sagging, gasping weight off the chair, then down the deck to the rail, and overboard.

The splash of the body below sliced through the air like a gunshot.

Elodie dug her nails into the arms of her chair, cracking some of them and drawing blood.

She did not feel the pain.

She'd witnessed murder twice now.

Which also made her an accomplice.

She'd aided and abetted a murder in daytime, even if she didn't bury the knife herself.

She was just worst as the rest of them.

And who was this bastard who kept dropping people like flies?

Her stomach rolled.

Angelo reached for Fabian's unused napkin, then wiped his fingers with it, a slash of dark brow rising above the bridge of his nose.

"I don't take betrayal lightly," he said to no one in particular.

But Elodie knew those words were for her.

"Now that I've taken care of that pesky business." Angelo was smiling now, reaching into his pocket to get out another cigar. "Please help yourself to whatever you want. Including you, Elodie."

He lit the cigar and took a deep drag, suit expanding with his actions.

Elodie recalled where the last one currently was, and it was the last straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

She made it to the other side of the boat, away from where Fabian's body was probably floating, and gave the ocean what little food she managed to eat that morning.

A/N:

I made a promise, and I delivered.

This is for you who motivated to give another chapter.

Let me know your thoughts!

How many of you already knew that Angelo would kill again?

Do you think he'd successfully take the bomb from Medvedev?

And if he does, what do you think would happen?

Would Elodie leaving the table before she was told have its own repercussions?

Poor Fabian, polluting the sea with himself. 😢

Please don't forget to vote, comment and share. ❤️

And if the votes and reads increases marginally, then who knows maybe I'd drop another chapter by the weekend? 😏😏.

Thank you for your engagement on all my books. I wuv y'all.