Mafia

Greeting

The meeting room sat high above the city, silent and immaculate behind a huge glass window. Below, headlights and neon shimmered across the streets, while white marble floors reflected the recessed lights against black-marble walls. A long polished table stood at the center, surrounded by expensive black-leather chairs. At the head sat Alex Moretti, dark-brown eyes fixed on the city. Mike Russo stood at his right, watching the door.