Protection Money From the Wrong Man, Your Don

Woken up in the middle of the night by a dead girl walking. She had no idea she was threatening the Don who owned every dock on the Chicago River.

“Nico, are you fucking deaf? I said bring two bottles of Ace of Spades. Now!”

On the other end of the line, Bianca’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

I leaned back against the headboard in the penthouse, phone in hand, a cold smirk on my face.

“Are you giving me an order?”

“What do you think?” she scoffed. “Nico, don’t push your luck. You haven’t paid your protection money this month. You think my cousin can’t have you feeding the fishes by sunrise?”

The bottom of the Chicago River.

I looked out the window at the river, a silver ribbon in the dark. Three years ago, every dock along that water became property of the Grimaldi family.

She was threatening to dump me in my own river.

“It’s 2:17 AM, Bianca,” I said slowly. “I’m going to sleep.”

“You wouldn’t da—”

I tossed the phone aside. Didn’t hang up. Just let her curses echo in the empty suite.

My mind flashed back to a month ago.

I’d just come up from the wine cellar three floors down, smelling of mildew and cigars.

The elevator doors opened, and a young woman in a Chanel suit stepped in, pinching her nose.

She recoiled.

In the club, everyone steps aside for me. Out of respect. Or fear. So I thought nothing of it.

The next night, I had my Dodge parked by the back door, about to start the engine.

The passenger door was pulled open.

She slid in, crossed her legs, and didn't even give me a glance.

“Fifth and Oakley. It’s on your way.”

I froze for a second.

As the man who controlled half of Chicago’s underworld, I’ve heard every kind of request, plea, and beg.

But no one had ever dared to order me.

I could have snapped her neck right there. But I didn’t.

She was a newbie who didn’t know the rules. A nobody. I couldn’t be bothered.

Besides, it was on my way.

When we got to her apartment on Fifth, she didn’t even say thanks. Just slammed the door and walked off.

I figured it was a one-time thing.

I was wrong. It was just the beginning.

She started treating me like her personal chauffeur.

First, she’d ask me to make detours to pick her up. Then she forbade me from smoking cigars in my own car. Said the smoke “clashed” with her expensive perfume.

Last week, she was in the passenger seat, putting on bright red lipstick.

In a condescending tone, she said, “Your leather seats are too hard. Go get me a cashmere cushion. Nico, you’re lucky to be able to serve a woman like me.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

I watched her arrogant face in the rearview mirror.

That was the first time I didn’t see her as just some stupid annoyance.

I saw her as a curiosity. An experiment.

I became curious.

What kind of world, what kind of backup, creates a creature so ignorant and so fearless?

I had a hundred ways to make her disappear from my world. But I didn’t.

A lion doesn’t get angry at a yapping chihuahua.

I just wanted to see how stupid she could get.

I never understood how someone could take advantage of you while acting like they were doing you a favor.

Now I knew.

It was because the club manager was her cousin.

“Why aren’t you talking?”

“Are you on your way or not?”

Bianca’s impatient voice crackled through the phone.

I yawned. “No. I’m going to sleep. You’re on your own.”

With that, I hung up.

The phone immediately started ringing again.