Made For Me

Chapter 5

"Don't forget we are here to make a business deal and nothing else" annoyance crept up my neck when I end the phone and slide it back into my pocket walking up to my club.

I hate having to remind people who work for me that we are in London to work, not fuck every girl they walk past. Relationships and business don't mix. It just leaves you open to having a weakness, and I Aaron Russo, have no weaknesses.

We landed in London two hours ago, which gave us two hours to prep and iron out any issues with this business deal. It wasn't a big deal, standard but it would strengthen our allies with the London mob who sell our shit across the streets of London and surrounding areas quicker than anywhere else.

England has a knack for drugs, I'll give it to them they have the best clubs, raves and festivals and that's why I bought this club; so, it would be easier to distribute undetected. And I guess I'd make more money out of it, but I have enough to last me six lifetimes and never work so it's not really about the money.

I only brought a few of my soldiers with me because there was no danger, we were going into my club so we were under my roof, no one would disrespect me under my roof they'd be insane to with the rumours that fly around about what I do to people who disrespect me.

"let's go make deals baby" Cole slaps me on the back. He is my second in command and like a brother to me, we grew up together but it's a long story, however the only reason his hands haven't been sliced off for touching me. he really knows how to wind me up.

"Get your filthy hands off of me before I put a bullet in each palm" I say in a cool tone showing no expression. He took his hand from my back but continued to hysterically laugh because he knows unless he betrayed me, he's the only person i'd never shoot.

We walk past all the people queuing up and straight into the front passed the bouncer. "AR" obviously named after me only opened a few weeks ago and is becoming one of the most popular clubs in London.

Probably because it's a walk away from unis and people's workplace, but I don't care who's in the club if they're not underage or trying to hurt girls.

As we reach the bottom of the stairs, I look around to see it is rammed. Everyone is downstairs because VIP was out of bounds tonight for my business deal, but they were standing shoulder to shoulder jumping up and down like idiots.

The drunk youth who can't handle their drink, I can't stand them.

In New York you can't get into clubs or bars until you're 21, here in London you only have to be 18. This means half the people in this club tonight are probably 18-year-old uni students partying for fresher's week.

It sounds weird when I live in New York that I know so much about other countries and their people, but I'm also the head of the most powerful mafia, it's my job to know.

I walk up the stairs and reach the VIP lounge, Cole and the rest of my men follow me. I see our guest already sitting there looking like he is about to throw up, a sinister grin lifts the side of my lip, I always leave them sitting there thirty minutes before I show up to build tension and allow time for them to overthink.

Daniel Brown, head of the London mob. Typical fucking British name.

His gaze lands onto me and immediately stands up. He wipes a ball of sweat away from his temple before walking over.

"Mr Russo! How great it is to finally see you in person. Your man Tony we deal with, he's a great guy and all but it's nice to finally meet the big man himself" He's nervous. People blabber when they're nervous.

I mean can you blame him, Daniel stood at 5 foot 9 inches. To me being 6'3, he looked like a little girl. He was also extremely skinny and, in a tracksuit. As the Brits would call it, he was a "roadman" who smoked more than he sold and forgot to eat in between. He had jet black hair and was covered in tattoos. I hate people like him, but business is business.