Chapter Twenty-Three: A Meteoric Rise

Metropolis.

A black Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera glided silently through a narrow street. The road ahead was a tangled maze, resembling a web spun by a drunken spider. After winding past a row of houses, the car finally came to a halt in a gravel-paved private driveway.

"Thud!"

The car doors opened. Several men in black suits lifted the unconscious women from the backseat and carried them inside.

In the spacious hall, Frank Gallo, who had been waiting for some time, saw his men bring the captives in and reached for a cigar. He was a large man with the face of a bulldog and a hooked, aquiline nose. Being Sicilian, his oily skin often took on the color of congealed cinnamon.

"Boss, the quality of this batch is good," one of his subordinates said after throwing the three women onto the floor. "The wealthy clients will surely be satisfied."

Frank stood up to inspect the women, taking a satisfied puff of his cigar.

"Not bad, especially this one."

He reached out and stroked the cheek of one of the blonde girls. Her figure and face were both exquisite.

Frank was the leader of this gang. His business was not the drug trafficking or arms smuggling favored by other criminal syndicates. Instead, he