Rogue Chapter 2

Rogue

Chapter 2

Masen

My fingers glide over the ivory leaving a sweet melody in their wake. I love this piece only because I wrote it. It is calming and for today, this is what we need under the most strenuous of circumstances.

By the time I am done playing, the world's most dangerous men will all have converged into this one room.

Today, this meeting is unprecedented.The men in this room are more nervous than usual for several reasons, but there is one reason in particular that stands out like a white elephant in the room.

Charles Swan will be joining today’s meeting.

The former Boss, Aro Volturi, of “The Commission” suffered a heart attack a few days ago. We are here today to appoint a new Boss among Bosses to fill his position, and although Charles Swan will be here, he will not be one of those that is in the running.

If I had the sense to fear anyone, I suppose he would be the person I should be worried about. My father worries that my lack of fear is going to be the thing that gets me killed. I have no intention of dying any time soon.

The Italian families that “ran the streets” of New York territories, have been in charge of the streets since the 1920’s, and up until a few weeks ago, that all changed. Something big went down, and no one saw it coming. It sent a shockwave through the community of organized crime.  

All five Italian families had been hit, and when I mean all, I mean ALL. Not only did they hit the five families in the streets, their homes, and their places of business, they went abroad and hit their homelands. While families were targeted here, they were also taken out, clear around the world leaving no one behind.

We have come to the conclusion that since there has been no contact made by anyone that would lead us to believe otherwise, that the families are dead.

Up until a few nights ago, we had no idea who was doing all the killing.

We hold to a code of silence, however, we do follow strict rules when it comes to the integrity of our families, the Bosses, made men and the associates. A hit, or murder, of a "made" man had to be approved by the leadership of his family, or retaliatory hits would be made, possibly inciting a war. In a state of war, a hit on a Boss had to be approved by the Commission and someone had gone rogue and cleaned house without prior approval.

These men were the foundation of our organization. They wrote the rules and always provided for their families on down the line. Now, it appears the Italians are on the endangered species list, if not extinct.

Whoever was responsible for this would have to answer for their crimes, but their ability to clean house left no one to retaliate. All they have to worry about is the Commission and the recent death of our Boss has presented a problem, as there is no one governing the board.

Then, out of nowhere, the remaining families that run territories in different cities were sent a letter. The letter stated simply that there was a new Mob Boss in the New York Territories.

Charles Swan announced his takeover and stated that he wanted to be present for the appointing of the new Boss.

We now had a name to hold accountable for the actions that went down in New York, and if I had anything to say about it, the man was going to pay with his life.

That was until last night, when Charles Swan paid an unannounced visit to my father and grandfather in our family home, of all places. When I found out, I was livid. It took three men to get me to calm down, and not kill the soldiers that were supposed to be protecting my family’s home.

To make this a little more clear, my father, Edward Masen, Sr, and my grandfather, Anthony Masen, are two of the oldest gangsters still living from the old days. This takes my grandfather back before the times of prohibition. He is the oldest living original Mobster to date, when he turns 103 years old next month.

At some point Charles arrived at the family home, managed to convince not only the soldiers, but my father as well, to let him visit with them to discuss the situation. In doing this, he only proved to me how cunning and sly he can be. He sat down with the only two men that still had more respect and power, than any other associate out there. He knew they could still call the shots even though they no longer held positions as leaders.  Apparently, Charles felt that if he spoke to them, he could get them to convince the newly appointed Boss of the commission, not to prosecute whoever it was that had taken out all those families.

I wished to God I had been there, but sadly, I took the night off. It was a first for me and what was even more stupid was that I shut my phone off when my father tried to call me to get me to come home. I have no one to blame but myself for that mistake, along with the other mistake I made last night.

Dancing with her.

The memory of last night still plays in my head and I scowl to myself, pushing it back out.

Back to what I was saying...don’t get me wrong, I have nothing but the utmost respect for my father, but being the Don of my family now, I really wish I had been there. For reasons unknown to me, my father, as well as my grandfather, both agree that they would back up Charles Swan’s decision to clean house and take over the New York territory.

With the commission without a leader, my father has the right to make that call, and so Charles Swan is about to show up at his first sit down with the commission, where the remaining families will vote for a new Boss.

The prospective candidates are, Caius, who represents the Volturi family, Carlisle, for the Cullen family, William, for the Black family and myself, for the Masen family.

As the conference room begins to fill up, I can feel the tension in the atmosphere. The head of each family is accompanied by his underboss, and his consigliere.

For the sake of everyone involved, before they enter the room they are expected to relinquish their weapons at the door.

I continue to play, stroking the keys as I sit at the piano far off in the corner of the room. No one dares to approach me while I play and I am fine with that. I let the last note linger in the air before I finally stand up. I button the front of my jacket, pick up my glass of Patron, then head over to stand next to Carlisle. I can already see his mind working, clearly assessing the mood of those around us.

I opt to see how well I can read him. I lean in and whisper, "Something amiss?"

He just stands next to me watching, not looking in my direction as he studies everyone. "Not that I can tell, but it never hurts to be sure." he smirks and puts his hands in his pockets continuing to watch.

"Swan hasn't arrived.” I state.

He turns to me and there is this odd gleam in his eye when he comes back with, “Actually, Masen, he has. I just saw him exiting his car outside. He should be coming in soon, he just needed to help someone out of the car.”

I don’t like the cocky smirk he is giving me when I turn to look at him, confused by what he just said. Why would he be needing to help anyone out of the car?

.

"Excuse me, but would you mind elaborating on that?” I quirk a brow up at him, waiting.

The smirk only grows a little bigger, the gleam in his eye even brighter, and I wonder what’s up with him. He looks away, like he is remembering a dream or something off in the distance. "The most gorgeous, longest pair of legs I have ever seen on a woman, and I have seen a lot of women in my lifetime. I tell you, Masen, if she is his trophy wife, he sure in the hell knows how to pick them! Beautiful beyond words, I tell you."

My jaw drops. It takes me a minute to recover and when I do I am not in the least bit impressed! "Women are not supposed to be here, we are not entertaining goomahs either! This is a very private meeting, so what the fuck is he thinking?" I hiss.

Carlisle shrugs and says, "He’s new, remember? He may not know the rules yet, Masen, but I’m sure you will take it up with him before we start."

Just then the air shifts in the room, the low murmuring of voices comes to an abrupt halt and you could hear a pin drop when the sound of a female’s heels clicking on the hardwood floor grow closer and closer, turning the heads of all these men toward the approaching sound and the door.  

My eyes are trained there, as well. Then, as if he owned the damned place, Charles Swan waltzed into the room, with the last person I ever expected to see, wrapped around his arm.

"Hello, gentleman," he has a gleam in his eye and a smart-ass smirk on his lips, looking like the proudest motherfucker, ever.

It takes an incredible amount of self-control to not react to this situation. I can’t honestly explain how I manage to avoid showing any reaction, other than the most important one at the moment. I don’t have to look to know that Carlisle is now watching me, while waiting for my initial reaction. He was with us last night, so he knows.

I manage to pull it off, seemingly unaffected, but deep down I am fucking blazing, pissed beyond words.  

What I don’t expect is the comment he makes with humor in his tone. “Now would be a good time to show some of those stellar leadership skills you have here, Masen. You get to handle that," he claps me on the back and moves to take his seat, and I can hear a low chuckle in his throat.

Motherfucker.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, she is avoiding eye contact with me. If I had known, there is no way in fuck I would have done what I did with a the wife of a Boss. Knowing it would be a reason to get iced. As angry as I am though, I stuff it down and try to compose myself. I straighten my tie and walk over to the table. Setting my glass down, I pull my chair out from between my father and my grandfather, and then make the choice to remain standing to address the issue right away.

"If you all will be seated, I think I need to address something before we start.” As everyone takes their seat, I fight with everything I have to not let my eyes wander down her legs. But what she is wearing makes that damn near im-fucking-possible!

Once the room is quiet, I turn my attention to Charles. “I mean no disrespect, here, Swan, and I do fully understand that you are new and I am keeping that in mind. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Edward Anthony Masen, I will be conducting the meeting this evening. With that, I need to address you without you taking any offense. This is a highly confidential meeting and the invitations clearly stated that the heads of families, and their first and second in command are on the guest list. None of us brought our wives with us, as you can see." I wave my hand around the room to emphasize my point.

I look over at Bella, with whom I had a very  brief introduction last night. She is the most fucking, gorgeous female, sitting next to him. Dressed to kill in a pinstriped outfit that showed more skin than than it covered, but the style is the classiest looking outfit I have ever seen a woman wear.

As much as I wanted to have her sit here and look pretty for me, I couldn't allow it.

He nods and holds out his hands as if to surrender, saying, "There is none taken, Masen. By all means, I would like to introduce you all to Isabella Swan. She is my underboss, my second in command, and my beloved daughter."

The collective gasp in the room was painfully loud, and low voices murmured  among the men seated around the table.

I manage to pull off acting totally unaffected by the announcement. My eyes shift to her, but this time she is looking right at me with her right brow lifted up high, her eyes scan up and down as if she is appraising me.

I tilt my head to the side, wondering if this was some sort of a joke, at first. But I manage to hold my tongue and compose myself.

We are in a very volatile position at the moment. None of us is armed, but that doesn't mean that somewhere in this room there isn't a weapon that could inevitably put her in danger. It makes me extremely uneasy and I have no idea why.

I take a minute to decide how to proceed before I finally ask, "Interesting, do you mind if I ask you both a couple of questions?" I meet his eyes once again.

"By all means, ask away." he gestures with his hands opening his arms welcoming anything I have to ask.

“I truly mean no disrespect toward your lovely daughter, but I have to wonder, does your organization run similar to, say, other organizations?"

"No worries." She says casually and steps up to the table, lays down her small clutch purse and steps back to slide her arm through her father’s once again, “Allow me, Daddy.”

She begins speaking, in a matter of fact tone.

“Considering I don’t really know how yours runs, I can state that I think the general idea is the same. As for how long I have been under Daddy, I will say, roughly five years. I have moved up the ranks, just as you all probably have your rankings. I am just like anyone else here, but Daddy taught me how to be a self-made woman. I know that it might sting a little to have a female claim such a title, but I don't particularly care about anyone's ego here. I don’t know any of you but I have to warn you, if you don't like it, get over it, because I am not going anywhere. I am fully aware that this may seem awkward for most all of you, but again, I don't particularly care how uncomfortable I make you feel. I know my job...” her eyes have been meeting with each member as she speaks and when she emphasizes the last part, she is looking directly at me. “and I do it well. Otherwise, I wouldn't be standing here. Now, is there anything else you would like to know? How many shipments I have hijacked, debts I may have collected, cars I have stolen, drug dealers I control, or rats I have flushed out? Or would my own personal tally of body count be of interest to you?"

She flashes me the most condescending smile I have ever seen and I suddenly become aware of how aroused I am.

It pisses me right the fuck off because this is truly impossible to believe. She is bullshitting. She has to be.

I can’t seem to stop myself and call her out on it.

"I am very interested in the body count, Miss Swan, is it?" I question, gripping on to the back of my chair tightly. But I can feel the way I am looking at her, trying to appear amused by it all.

She looks over at her father, who is beaming like a motherfucker and begins to spout off numbers. “When we started with the Russians, my numbers were low, but then again I was still wet behind the ears, so to speak, 103 kills. After that I excelled. 385 Cubans in Florida, 75 Mexican mafia members in California, those of which I am not completely finished with, and my all time greatest achievement, 63% of the Cosa Nostra. I can’t really take credit for the ones abroad, though I did orchestrate it.”  

I stand here staggered, dumfounded, speechless. You fucking name it.

"Is there anything else, Mr...uh? What is his name again, Daddy?" she turns to her father and asks, with the most innocent expression on her face.

"Masen, honey, Edward Masen." He smiles and winks at her.

"Masen from Chicago, right?" she turns slowly to look at me, questioning.

"Edward Anthony Masen and yes, Chicago, which is where you are right now. In my territory.” I suddenly snap out of my shock to remember who the hell I am and remind her where she is.

She smiles with a little gleam in her eyes, her voice soft, “Right, your territory. Understood.”

Then she fucking winked at me.  

"Son, we need to get this meeting underway," my father interrupts me.

"Yes, we do." Someone else chimes in, though I have no idea who.

We stared at one another for a beat too long before I finally give in. I wave my hand inviting them to take their seats. I swear I can hear chuckling from different parts of the room and if I find out who it is, I will slit their fucking throat.

Once everyone is settled in we begin to discuss the funeral arrangements of Aro, our former Boss of all Bosses. I tried to make eye contact with everyone in the room as I spoke to them, but she somehow always managed to draw my attention back to her.  Shifting in her chair that is pulled away from the table just enough to let everyone in the room see her crossed long-ass legs, bouncing her foot as she listens carefully to others in the room. Her hands are folded in her lap and the bustier she is wearing only seems to lift her cleavage up even higher. Her perfect tits about to spill out over top of the low-cut pinstriped bustier she wears. I can’t get over this outfit she has on. It is un-fucking-real. It has to be custom made. A short pinstriped skirt to match the bustier, and long,bare-skinned legs, leading to a pair of black stilettos.

I look over at her father and wonder how she came from Charles. I will never know, considering he is so rough looking. They do have the same dark brown hair, and chocolate colored eyes but his are a little darker and more menacing, not to mention the really ugly mustache that annoys the hell out of me for some reason.

He seems more like a roughneck than a Don, but the creature he created, sitting next to him... she is straight up deadly in the looks department. A gorgeous, long brown mane of hair, with curls resting this way and that way all around her bare shoulders, flawless skin, and fuck, her legs are out of this fucking world. I try hard not to stare but it was hard to keep my eyes from wandering back over to her.

She leans over and whispers in Charles’ ear and her eyes meet mine while her lips move.

I watch her, outright; about to call her out on being rude while Alec is discussing the final details of the funeral.

She turns to Alec, then leans over to him, puts her hand on the back of his and said, "I am so sorry for your loss," and she squeezed it. Alec's eyes are on her hand where she is touching him and he frowns for a moment before he composes himself and nods in her direction.

"Next order of business." I nod in Felix's direction and he stands up and hands out the ballots; main reason we are all here.

Each head of the family gets one ballot. They lean in and discuss the choices between their two top people and then one by one stand up and walk over to the table and drop their ballot in the box.

I am the last one to vote and return to my seat, unfasten my jacket and just when I was about to sit down I catch her staring at me. She looks away quickly but it is too late.

I smirk to myself and turn to face Felix as he begins pulling out the cards one by one, reading them off.

Edward Masen

Caius Volturi

Edward Masen

Edward Masen

Edward Masen

This surprises me. This means that Charles Swan voted for me.

"Edward, will you stand up and approach the table."

I stand, walk over and wait next to Felix.

He leans down, picks up a pen and signs five documents, one for each family, naming me as the Boss of the Commission, then hands the pen to me. I sign each one and hand him back the pen.

I turn and begin to remove my jacket, laying it on the table and loosen my tie, unbutton my shirt, remove my cuff links, slide my arms out of my shirt and lay it all down neatly on the table.

I turn around, meeting her eyes first, which are perusing my body like I am a slab of meat on display for her to ogle.

I crack my neck, flex my arms, and brace myself for the branding. I take a deep breath, staring straight ahead now, focused on the mirror and my own reflection. My muscles are taut as I wait for the intense burn I know is coming.

The sound is more disturbing than the heat. The sizzling of my skin makes my hair stands up at the back of my neck. As quickly as the iron is applied, it is removed again, replaced with a cool spray of water. I am biting so hard on my back molars I am surprised I don’t crack one.

Not gonna lie. It fucking burns, but the brand is there.

I turn around and nod at Felix, holding out the palm of my hand. He turns to nod at Demetri, who stands at the door and enters the room with a dagger in his hand, passing it to Felix.

He positions the blade and makes one long slice across my palm, I turn it sideways, close my fist around it and let the blood drip down onto the decree that gives me the power.

I am both thrilled and terrified, yet remain calm and in control

Felix hands me a towel that I grip in my fist and I return to stand next to my seat, sans shirt because there is no way I am putting anything on that will hinder the healing process of my brand.

My eyes travel around the room and I nod at each family, thanking them for their support and confidence that I can do the job.

Caius seems to be the only one who isn’t happy about this. His assumptions that he would be the one has him fighting back his anger, while sadly attempting to be somewhat cordial about it.

My eyes land on her. I am fascinated by the fact that she is sucking her bottom, lip staring into nothing, a gleam in her eye.

I am dying to know what she is thinking.

The meeting is adjourned, and I shake hands with family heads as they leave and reclaim their weapons.

I reach out, shake Charles' hand reluctantly, but I have to do so for appearance’s sakes. I am not happy about the fact that he doesn’t have to answer for his crimes, but apparently I will find out why soon enough, since my father has arranged a private meeting with myself, my grandfather and Charles. I turn to his daughter. She holds her hand out and I take it surprised, by her firm shake and the sensation that passes between us the moment our skin makes contact.

Interesting.

Then, without any forethought, I turn her hand, bringing it up to my lips, and kiss the back of it before letting it go. Her eyes are locked on my bare chest and I can’t help but smirk a little.

"I still have my upbringing, and my mother gets the credit for my well-mannered nature on how to treat a lady. Well, lady/assassin, it's a fine line, really."

When my eyes move back to her father’s, he has this all-knowing smirk on his lips, leans in and whispers, "That is my little girl, Masen, and if you think her body count is high, you may want to consider this for a moment; I am the one who taught her everything she knows." His tone is serious.

I almost want to laugh.

He takes her arm and turns to escort her out of the room. I stare out the door and watch them approach the station where the weapons were left.

Charles Swan opens his jacket and slides in two Glock nines into his holster, a Sig Sauer semi-auto behind his back. He straightens his jacket and I wait to see what she collects.

He takes her arm again and she smiles up at him as he leads her out of the estate, all the while whispering in his ear, making him laugh.

I step out of the room and now stand at the front door, watching.

"What’s the verdict?" Carlisle says, standing next to me and I watch Swan open the door for his daughter as she climbs in the back of, of all vehicles, a Guardian.

A car that could be considered deathproof.

It strikes me odd that she isn't armed in any way but her mode of transportation is an impenetrable car.

Odd indeed.

"Call Zafrina, I want to know everything about the Swan family, dating back to his great-grandparents."

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