★★Leon's POV★★



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I left in a hurry from one of my headquarters in France. My father had buried himself in a mountain of meetings, handling the constant operations of the French mafia. It's not something he can just walk away from, and honestly, he has no interest in doing so. So, he called me—his heir—to handle the armory shipment deal in New York. Too important to leave to anyone else. Too many moving parts, too much at stake. If it goes wrong, I'll be the one left to clean up the mess.

It's the role I've always played.

My father's the muscle, the one who strikes when needed. I'm the one who makes sure the deals are locked in, no questions asked. I get things done, no matter the cost. Lately, it feels like there's too much on my plate—too many fires to put out, too many people testing my patience. But honestly, I don't have the luxury of letting it overwhelm me. There's no room for anything but results. If I want to keep things under control, I know what I have to do: ruthless efficiency. And that's exactly what I'll deliver.

Now, I'm on a private jet heading to New York City—a city I absolutely despise. Americans are a nuisance. They're loud, brash, and think their way of life is the only one that matters. I try to avoid them when I can, but this deal requires me to step into their world, to sit across from men who believe their country is untouchable.

How wrong they are.

I glance across the aisle where Damien, my brother, is sitting. His eyes are locked on his laptop, fingers typing away as he handles emails.

He's the only one I can rely on in situations like this—calm, collected, and professional. No emotions wasted. I know he's already got his mind on the numbers and logistics, just like me. He's as serious as I am.

Focused. Efficient.

Antoine, on the other hand, is watching Goodboys on the screen, laughing a little too loudly for my liking. I don't even bother asking him to lower the volume.

He's... different. Carefree.

Sometimes I envy that, but most times, it irritates the hell out of me. He never takes anything seriously, yet somehow, his presence balances the tension. It's maddening, but it works.

I rub my hand over my jaw, the faintest pulse of tension in my neck.

"Un autre email de leur part. (Another email from them)." Damien mutters, his eyes flicking across the screen. "Ils ne reculent pas. (They're not backing down)."

I don't glance up. "Ils ne le feront pas. Ils essaieront de faire pression. Mais ils reculeront une fois qu'ils auront compris avec qui ils négocient. (They won't. They'll try to push. But they'll back off once they understand who they're negotiating with)."

Damien nods, never questioning me. He knows what I'm capable of. He knows what I expect.

Antoine's laughter continues, irritating but tolerable. I ignore him. The mission. The deal. Everything that I've left behind in France is building up, piece by piece.

But I focus.

He's being loud again.

Laughing obnoxiously, his voice echoing through the cabin as he watches those three small imbeciles on the screen, barely avoiding getting run over by cars. I can barely tolerate it. My head is already pounding from the lack of sleep, and I still have to deal with this idiotic meeting in New York.

A headache is forming behind my eyes, and it's only getting worse.

"Oh my god!" Antoine bursts out laughing. "Leon, look! Look!" He points at the screen, laughing harder. "Why the hell is there a sex toy on the highway?"

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. My patience is wearing thin. This isn't the time for his ridiculous sense of humor. I've got enough on my plate. I'm heading to a meeting that could decide the future of one of our biggest shipments, and he's busy watching nonsense like this.

"Antoine," I say, my voice quiet, but laced with warning.

He doesn't hear me. Of course he doesn't. The damn TV is too loud, and he's too busy laughing like an imbecile to pay attention.

I glance at Damien. He's unbothered, his focus unwavering, eyes glued to his own screen as he handles something work-related. If there's one thing Damien excels at, it's remaining laser-focused in any situation. Antoine, however, seems to take pleasure in the chaos, as if he thrives on the distractions that get under everyone else's skin.

I grit my teeth. "Antoine." I say a little louder than before.

This time, he turns his head, giving me a side-eye like I'm the problem. "What, dude? I heard you the first time. Geez lousie."

I feel my patience snap. My fist curls in an attempt to contain my growing anger, but the tension is already there, prickling at the surface. I lean forward slightly, keeping my voice controlled, but there's no hiding the edge now.

"Faites-nous une faveur et fermez-la avant que je t'envoie dans le Pacifique sans parachute. (Do us a favor and shut the fuck up before I send you off in the Pacific with no parachute.)" I keep my gaze steady, the threat hanging in the air. Antoine's grin falters. He knows when I'm serious, and this is one of those times. He opens his mouth to argue, but when he sees the look in my eyes, he wisely decides against it.

The cabin falls into a tense silence, with only the hum of the plane filling the air. I take a deep breath, trying to refocus, but the anger from earlier isn't gone.

My head is still pounding, and now all I can think about is the meeting. I hope to god those people don't give me shit today. Because if they do, I'll make sure they regret it. I'll deal with them swiftly, with no hesitation, like I've done with all the others who thought they could challenge me.

The deal must go smoothly, and I won't tolerate any disruptions. Not today. Not when I'm already this pissed off.

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Damn bro def has a broom up his ass.

Has anyone gone sky diving before? That is the number one thing I will never do in my lifetime.

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡