Antonio Lambardi leaned forward, placing his elbows on the polished oak desk, staring down at the intricate little patterns burned into the wood as he listened to the conversion on the phone. Though his face was expressionless, there was a cold look in those hazel eyes--a look of fury, a look of pure animal rage. But if you saw him as he cradled the phone in his hand, you wouldn't guess how pissed he was unless you got a look into the dangerous eyes of his. That is where you could see the malice, the hate. He listened intently, slowly drumming his fingers across the top of the desk. [i]I don't have time for this shit,[/i] Antonio thought angrily, glaring at the phone. [b]"Worst fuckin' invention,"[/b] he mumbled under his breath. He wished Analise was here right now--she was always able to make his rage melt away, make him feel better about things, even when shit just refused to go right. Like now.

[b]"Now you listen here,"[/b] Antonio spoke into the phone with amazing composure. [b]"He said he doesn't need my fuckin' protection? He thinks he's just gonna run a fuckin' club on MY fuckin' turf, and not pay a damn cent? That fuck...that lousy, no good son of a bitch--"[/b] Antonio's brow furrowed slightly as he was interrupted by his associate on the phone. It furrowed even more at the mans words.

[b]"You are treading on dangerous ground,"[/b] Antonio told the man, his voice calm, polite, even respectful. But the tone was low, a clear warning if there ever was one. [b]"You don't tell me how the fuck I should or should not run my family, you hear me? I know what I'm doing. You work for me, I don't fuckin' work for you. Now, you hang up this fucking phone, and tomorrow afternoon at 4:30, we're gonna have a little sit down. We're gonna chat about our fuckin' problem and decide what to do with that prick. Nobody opens up a fucking nightclub, without my fucking permission. I gotta go, family dinner."[/b] With those words, without waiting for a reply, he slammed the phone down, jaw clenched tightly. Seconds later he heard his son knock on the door, announcing it was time to eat. Sighing wearily, he thought of Analise...she was so disheartened of late. He knew that, he could see it in her eyes. It was the late nights, staying up until the early hours of the morning, then constantly having to arrange this or meet at this place, talk about that. It was never ending. He loved his family, respected it, but sometimes he felt he was losing touch with Analise....and it broke his heart sometimes. But business was business and family was family. She was tough, she'd handle it. She had for this long, after all.

Making his way downstairs, he saw the crowd had already arrived. Forcing a smile, hoping his eyes didn't betray the anger, that something had gone wrong, he walked write over to Analise, enveloping her in a bear-hug and kissing her quickly. [b]"Ciao Bella--the food smells wonderful, Ana--but then, doesn't your cooking always? Best cook in Italy, best cook in America!"[/b] he ravished her with praise, then leaned close to her ear and in a soft whisper, spoke [b]"Mi dispiace, I had business...I'll tell you about it later."[/b] With that, he took his place at the table, spreading a napkin over his suit, thoughts racing through his mind.