“Get me the fuck out of here, you stupid fucking cunt,” Angelina screamed.
Slamming the door to a well-kept warehouse, Nicolette had heard enough from the foul-mouthed bitch. Angelina Paloma was reaching that point that she was on the verge of resting her eyes for the last night of her life. It wasn’t like Angelina didn’t have a comfortable stay. She was better off than any homeless person in this country. She has heat, a warm bed, and three catered meals a day. It might not have been the Four Seasons, but it was as lovely as any budget Inn. Nicolette didn’t want to hurt the woman. She wanted to destroy her husband and his reputation. Kicking a man in the nuts hurts less than taking away the respect of his associates. At the end of life, a name is what you want everyone to remember. Nicolette would make sure Frank Paloma was the laughingstock of Cosa Nostra. If they only knew he held a two-month-old baby hostage, the men would kill him. You do not harm children.
While Angelina screamed in the soundproof room, Nicolette sat down to make two phone calls. In her hand, a quarter, flipping it up, and down, clenching it tightly in her fist. “Spencer heads, and Frank is tales. Who do I call first?” she said. Looking down at her fist as though it contained all the secrets of the world, she slowly opened her hand, smirking when she saw the direction it landed.
Two of the most powerful men in the world brought to their knees over women. One an infant, and the other, a polished trophy who only looked good resting on a mantle. Other than that, she was as useless as an umbrella in a snow storm. If not for Frank Paloma, this woman would live in a trailer with 14 kids running havoc.
Dialing the phone, she waited. Nicolette knew how to handle men like this.
“Frank Paloma here, what the fuck you want?” he said. His voice filled with anger, even more than usual, it seemed.
Smiling, she would have to remind him of manners later. “Mr. Paloma, how nice to hear your voice finally. I’ve meant to call, but sadly I’ve been dealing with a pain in the ass. I’m sure you know how that is,” she said.
“Who the fuck is this?” Frank asked.
“Oh, that’s privileged information, but I do have someone who would like to speak to you,” Nicolette said. Putting Frank on hold, Nicolette took the phone to the room where Angelina held, slowly opening the door for Frank to hear her tantrum. “Angelina, say hello to your husband!”
The blonde on the bed sat up, her face looking hopeful for the first time. “Frankie, you fucking son of a bitch. You get me the fuck out of this place, or I swear on your dead mother’s name, I will take you for everything you own!” Angelina screamed. Her face was contorting with anger. Angelina thought her husband was behind the kidnapping. She knew that he often told her that he would get rid of her, but to Frank, he would have ended it with one bullet.
Placed on the speaker, Frank went wild with anger. Right now wasn’t the time or place to fight with his wife, but the accusation he was behind this enraged him. “You are fucking useless cunt. Do you think I would take you out like this and then fucking talk to you on the phone? No, I would put you on your fucking knees and put a bullet in your fucking brain. You’re a worthless whore,” Frank screamed. He was fighting with his wife. “Bring that bitch back and see what happens to her. I will,” he said, cutting it short.
Nicolette stood there for a few moments, holding back her laughter. Turning to Angelina, smirking, “Frankie sends his love.” As she walked out, Nicolette wondered for a moment why these two ever married. It was clear that they hated each other, but then again, she was not an expert on love. Coming from her background, she knew how an average couple interacted. Arison never allowed women around and was staunch on his celibacy. He said many times that the flesh could make a man weak. Of course, she was sure he indulged when he left at night and came back smelling like cheap perfume. That was her first taste of how weak a man could be. She also learned about hypocrisy through him.
“Now listen to me, and do not speak,” Nicolette said. “I hold something you want back. The only way this woman will see daylight again is for you to return that child to the rightful owner—her mother. If you do as I suggest,” Nicolette said. She wanted him to understand this part, so she stopped for a few seconds of a tantrum on his part. She was not let down. It’s a pity a man of his wealth and power would stoop so low as to threaten the one who held all the cards.
“No, bitch. You listen to me. If my wife’ not returned in 24 hours, I chop this little brat up and send half to her mother, and the other half to her grandfather. You got that, bitch?” Frankie said. Growling as he spoke, his tactics may work with ordinary people, but for Nicolette, she found him to be a joke. Of course, she did believe he would have someone else dirty their hands. Men like Frank Paloma didn’t do anything to implicate themselves. They hired those that they could replace. Face it. Everyone is replaceable.
“Frank Paloma, did you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she asked. Sucking in a deep breath, smiling, he laid out his cards, and she showed him she held all the Aces in this hand. “Let’s play a little game, shall we? You touch one part of that baby, and I use Angelina is the most despicable way,” she said. As she spoke, her grin widened. By the time she hung up, he would know she had meant business. “First, I pick up what I will call The Seven Deadly Sins. Each one of them ready to give this woman what she’s never had. A real man,” Nicolette said. Leaning back in the chair, she gave him details on what would happen to his poor wife.
“Lust! I will have a real man, you know, Frankie, one with a dick bigger than 5 inches fuck every single hole in this bitch’s body. She’ll love it. She told me how small your dick is. Women do that when pushed into a corner,” said Nicolette.
“Gluttony! Oh, I like this the most. Let’s say I get some fat fuck who needs pussy and let him smother your fucking wife. Maybe sit his fat ass on her face and force her to tongue fuck his shitter,” she laughed.
“Greed! Do you like hookers, Frankie? I’ll be selling her ass for ten bucks a pop. She isn’t worth any more than that. Face it, she’s pretty, but that mouth ruins everything,” smug, Nicolette explained.
“Sloth! How about this. I bring your boy here and force him to fuck his mother,” she said. Her hand slammed down on the table, the more she spoke, the angrier she became.
“I’m sure you can figure out how this is going to go, Frank. I will end with wrath, and Frankie, you don’t want me to do that. There won’t be a fucking thing left of her for you to bury. I’ll personally do that one. Now listen to me, Frank. You have 24 hours to return that kid to me, or I start the count down. Your wife is looking forward to the gangbang,” she said.
The line went silent other than his breathing. Moments passed before Frank could bring his words together. “I don’t take threats lightly. You started the clock, and I will stop it. Twenty-four hours, starting now,” he said. Slamming the phone down, Nicolette smirked. She hoped he would play with her. The one thing she had to her advantage was, she knew where the kid was, he had no clue where Angelina slept at night.