MARIAN DEAL

Isabella leaned forward in her armchair, her sharp eyes locked onto the two men sitting across from her. The dim lighting of the private room in Burj Lana cast long shadows across their faces, making their expressions harder to read. "So tell me," she said, her voice smooth but edged with authority, "what is it you really want?" The older man, Connor Marian, didn't hesitate. "A fair deal," he said, his Irish accent thick. "A better deal than we had with the Vincenzos. That's all we're asking for." Connor Marian was a well-known name in certain circles, an Irish drug dealer who had built his empire in the States, distributing for La Mano Nera. He was a man who had seen decades of deals, betrayals, and bloodshed. Beside him sat his son, Cillian Marian, a younger, far more dangerous version of his father. Cillian was the kind of man who wanted everything, power, money, and control, and he wanted it now. His ambition burned so hot that even his own father sometimes feared what he might do next. Greed and hunger for more drove him, and he had been deep in the family business since he was fourteen years old, when his father first brought him along on a drug deal. Since then, Cillian had taken over most of the operations. He handled the deals, the expansions, the negotiations, everything. His father still stepped in for the biggest decisions, but day-to-day? It was all Cillian. And Cillian had a problem with the Vincenzos. After Antonio Vincenzo's death, Cillian had called Luca, demanding a renegotiation of their business terms. He wanted to expand into the neighboring city, he wanted more control, more power, and better prices. Luca, of course, didn't take it well. He had threatened to cut off their supply entirely if Cillian kept pushing. That was when Cillian decided to look elsewhere. If Luca wouldn't give him what he wanted, then maybe La Fratellanza della Morte would. And the best way to get to Vittorio Moretti? Through Isabella. So here they were. Cillian hadn't spoken anything yet, he let his father do the talking. But his silence was heavy, his presence like a coiled snake ready to strike. His fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest of his chair, his eyes never leaving Isabella's face. Isabella smirked and looked Cillian directly in the face. "You think Vittorio will give you a better deal than Luca?" Cillian finally spoke, his voice low and controlled. "I think Vittorio understands opportunity when he sees it." Bianca, still sitting beside Isabella, watched the exchange carefully. She could feel the tension in the air, seems Isabella and Cillian did not like each other. Isabella leaned back, as though she was thinking about what Cillian had just said. "And what makes you so sure Vittorio will even want to work with you?" The tension in the room thickened like smoke as Cillian's cold smile lingered. His fingers steepled together as he leaned forward, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his face. "Because, unlike Luca, Vittorio isn't stupid enough to turn away good business." He paused deliberately, letting his words sink in. "I bring opportunities, growth, progress. Anybody who is wise enough would want to deal with me." The room was quiet enough to hear the ice clinking in someone's untouched drink. Bianca shifted slightly in her seat, her observant eyes darting between the players in this dangerous game. Isabella arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "What exactly do you offer me," she asked, her voice dripping with feigned curiosity, "that I can take back to my boss?" Cillian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "A lot." Another calculated pause. "When I say a lot, I mean a lot." His speech pattern was unnerving - those deliberate gaps between phrases making him seem like he was always holding something back. "We control the whole of Baltimore. Not just Edmunson Village..." He spread his hands wide. "The whole of Baltimore answers to me. So with us, you can sell to the entire city." Isabella's sudden, sarcastic "Wow!" cut through the tension like a knife. She began clapping slowly, the sharp sound of her palms meeting echoing off the walls. Then just as abruptly, she stopped, her hands freezing mid-air. The smirk fell from Cillian's face. "Does the whole of Baltimore know that you control it?" Isabella asked, her voice laced with amusement. A burst of concealed laughter escaped from one of her men standing guard by the door. Cillian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His father Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, recognizing the dangerous turn the conversation had taken. Cillian felt embarrassed and was a bit pissed, but nevertheless he controlled himself. Bianca watched the exchange with great interest. Isabella continued, her tone deceptively light, "You see, Cillian, in our world, control isn't about who answers to you." She leaned forward, her dark eyes locking onto his. "It's about who stops answering to everyone else... permanently." The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Even Connor looked uneasy now, his weathered face creased with concern. Cillian, however, recovered quickly, that cold smile creeping back onto his face. "Then let me put it in terms you'll appreciate," he said smoothly. "Just last month alone, three of Luca's sub-distributors in Fells Point suddenly found themselves... unavailable. This month, two more in Canton came to me to strike a deal." He tilted his head. "You still doubt my control?" Isabella was unmoved. She didn't like Cillian, the kind of aura he gave off didn't sit well with her. But she knew deeply that she wouldn't miss an opportunity to do business with him. 'Alright," she said coolly. "We'll sell to you at twelve thousand dollars per kilo. Drops twice a week." Connor, finally spoke up, cutting in before his son could. "Ten thousand, and we have a deal." Isabella arched a brow, caught off guard by the counteroffer. She studied Connor for a moment, then countered, "Eleven thousand five hundred." Connor chuckled, shaking his head. "This is starting to sound like a back-alley deal between kids." He turned to Cillian, his tone shifting slightly, as if seeking approval. "Let's leave it at ten thousand five hundred. That sound right to you, son?" Cillian didn't look at his father. His gaze remained locked on Isabella, unblinking. "Eleven thousand," Isabella said flatly. "And that's final." A tense silence stretched between them. Isabella exhaled through her nose, then stood abruptly. She motioned for Bianca to do the same. When Bianca rose, Isabella placed her hands on her shoulders, turning her slightly toward the two men. "This is my sister, Bianca," she announced, her voice firm. "You'll be seeing her for most of the drops." Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode toward the door. One of her men opened it immediately, and Isabella stepped out, Bianca following close behind. The door clicked shut, leaving Connor and Cillian still seated in the private lounge.