Page 15 of Stolen Christmas
“It is true, Mr. D’Antonio. It’s a treasured piece from France.” With my handkerchief, I open the lid and examine it. “Also, it doesn’t hurt to sell the merchandise as well.”
“A respectable response.” I smirk, examining the box.
“I’ll take it.” I hand over my card, unconcerned about the price. Fragile and important, I came to get it myself to prevent any mistake because I’d kill a motherfucker for disappointing her. She is the only person I ever put effort into buying gifts for, so the price isn’t an issue.
“Very well, I’ll wrap it up, sir.” I nod and look around as he prepares it and charges me for the gift. My eyes roam the luxurious room. My mother would probably enjoy some more pieces. I’ll remember to tell my father about this place.
“Here you are, Mr. D’Antonio. It has truly been an honor.” He hands me both my card and the bag with the maintenance documentation.
“Have a wonderful Christmas,” he adds.
“You as well.” I walk toward the exit just as an alarm goes off, but it’s not from my purchase. No, it’s the kid with the oversized Armani coat. Everything happens so quickly, but I’m ready for the exchange, or at least enough to react. This little punk slams into me, knocking me against the edge of the door while he falls back, and fuck if I don’t hear the slightest motherfucking crack come from my gift bag. If I didn’t have witnesses, I’d string him up, but instead, I grip him by the collar as the store security comes forward.
“Empty your pockets,” comes from a man behind us. I’m about to fucking shoot up this bitch. How dare they disrespect me like that?
“The hell I am,” I snarl at the bastard, reaching inside my coat while my man beside me adjusts himself with his piece, letting the security see it.
“Forgive me, Mr. D’Antonio.” His eyes widen, and his body shakes like he’s about to piss himself, which is fucking good because I’m not in the mood to tolerate any more disrespect. “Um…we were speaking to the little thief.”
“Let me go,” the thief says, trying to scramble out my grip, like that’s possible. I could crush his neck if I wanted to. I’ve done it before in my life, and this fuck deserves it as far as I’m concerned.
“Relax, you little shit. No one disrespects me like that.” I mean it too. I’m not the kind of man who tolerates it, and if anyone were to see me being disrespected and I let it go, I’d appear weak—something in my line of work that can’t be accepted.
“Please, let him go, sir. He’s under arrest for theft.” The kid fucked up because a police officer is working in the store. It isn’t a cheap store, and he decides to lift shit that’s going to cost him a long time away in jail. I let him go, and the fucker attempts to knee me in the balls and runs out the front door, but I’m too quick and I trip his ass, causing him to hit his face on the door. I smirk and then step over the little shit.
“We have him. We’re sorry about that. You can file a report for assault, sir, if you’d like,” the security rent-a-cop says.
“It’s fine. If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to handle.” I give the little punk a glare that lets him know this isn’t over. He’ll be out of jail tonight and in my hands so I can deal with that disrespect.
Adjusting my coat, I step out into the cold Chicago air. The snow is heavy on the ground and coming down again. Mydriver pulls up to the curb, where the store has cleared the path of snow. Sliding into the back of my waiting SUV, I sit my store bag next to me, which is fucking pointless now. I’m about to check it when I see something shiny on top of the tissue paper. I pull it out, and it’s a beautiful tennis bracelet - gorgeous and probably costing at least a couple of thousand. Was he trying to hock this shit, or was this a gift?
Christmas is a week away, and many stupid motherfuckers do dumb shit right now for their families, although that kid can’t be more than sixteen. I’m not one to give a shit about breaking the law, but the little fuck got me involved in his petty theft. Fuck. Depending how expensive this piece is, it could be a full-on felony. I could kill the little fucker.
“First, let’s return to the store. I have to deal with this issue.” I lift up the pretty bracelet, and my security guard gasps.
“What the fuck?” he snaps.
“Exactly. It seems I was a patsy for that little kid in the store.”
He’s back outside the storefront in less than ten minutes, but the squad car is blocking the main spot. Fucking bastards. My driver pulls in behind them, and we have to trudge through the snow to get into the store. Whipping the door open, I stare down my target. I walk in and spot the store director speaking to a cop. The kid sees me and gets scared.
As I walk up to the counter, the police officer is leading the little shit away from me and out the door. He sees me and he’s frightened, and he damn well better be. He has no idea who he’s messed with. I can see the fear in his eyes. “Mr. D’Antonio, I’m surprised you are back, sir.”
“I don’t know why you would be. It seems your little thief was trying to use me as a patsy. He left this in my bag.” I raisethe beautiful tennis bracelet that shines in the light. “However, I believe this gift would be nice for someone, so how about we just allow me to purchase it and then drop the matter.” I hand him my card and say, “Charge me for it.”
“Hmm, but we have just taken the boy and filed a complaint.” He looks to the now closed door where the police left with the teen.
“You can easily call and drop the charges. Besides, give the kid half an hour to sweat, and when he exits, I will make a deal with him to do some community service.”
“Sounds wonderful, Mr. D’Antonio. You’re such an excellent customer here, and we’d hate for this to blemish our reputation with you.”
What a lying kiss-ass, but it doesn’t matter as long as I get what I want.“It’s the holidays. People are more desperate for money.”
“And love,” he adds.
“Never needed that,” I add, shaking his hand. Love isn’t something I care about. Finding wealth and power is the only thing that has driven me in the past twenty-eight years. I’ve killed, corrupted, destroyed, and conquered to keep the family name in power.
“We are truly sorry about today’s situation. We can assure you that is not something that ever occurs here. We haven’t even had an attempted robbery in years.” He charges my card and prints out the receipt with shaky hands.
