mé
ax. They see me come out and one of them opens the SUV door.
. It's where the damned come to get dirty without guilt, where morality is left at the
rk. It was supposed to be a discreet casino, a tool to move money. But no. We deci
usual crowd from lining up like anxious animals waiting to be unleashed. Outside, there's
ear out. I don't tolerate strangers touching me, and my men know it. In
re cameras, but no one watches them live. We don't care. If they pay enough, they can c
e rotten heirs of powerful families. They hide here, far from the press, far from society's prying
e settle them like civilized beasts: two enter, one walks out. No guns, no interference. If someone dies, their friends drag them out. If they don'
st for us. Black walls, low lights, electronic mus
ssio's going through papers, Fabio'
from the documents. Two women curl up on his lap like living ornament
lease. I want something... to shake me out of this num
say no
myself ano
ra G
brothers, watching my every move, chasing away every guy who even looks at me. But they're not even the worst part... my father, Don Sergio Gravano, had been trying to marry me off for the
ed the moment
older brother sold
duty sedative into his coffee and climbed out the window once I was sure he was out cold. I dodged the guards outside, crawled through the bush
the "safe zone" of Brooklyn and crossing all of New York to go see the guy she's screw
ance your ass off, and maybe there's even a live band," she says, d
ouble. But I don't care about
ldn't help getting some sn
p before the great escape," she smirks, pulling a bottle o
m just thrilled to be out of the damn
d threatens to murder him if anything happens to her $3.5 million baby. We don't wait in line, we
ll is this p
ears bleed. She glances up at the private booths, rented out by rich assholes who loo
I do, my brother will know exa
ploring. It's safe. I promise I won't take too long..." She kisses my ch
when I see there's a damn UFC-style cage in the middle
and order a
e first asshole shows