After the long and arduous flight from New York to Chicago was finally over, the smartly dressed man moved with a calculated grace through the airport to the waiting black car near the Arrivals area. He traveled light, so all he had was a small suitcase and a briefcase with him and both were carry-ons. He didn't have the patience to deal with the wheels so he opted to carry both in separate hands to make his walk to his ride out of there quicker. He nodded to the bodyguard that opened the door for him as he stepped in after handing his items to a second bodyguard that stepped out of the car.

"Gentlemen," he said as he made his way past the pair and into the back of the sedan. "Take me to her," he said after they both sat in the front seats. Without a word, they were already on their way from the Loop to the North Side of Chicago. A few introductions and some charming smiles along with a few broken arms got him an introduction and weeks later he had a foot in the door, but now he was standing in the room. There were very few he trusted inside of the Family he was trying to make it in considering he was so new, but she was one of them.

A little while later, the car came to a screeching halt and as one of the bodyguard let him out he said, "I'll get the briefcase. Leave the bag. I'll be back for it." He stood out of the car and went to the back, grabbing the square carry-on. Moving from the driveway to the front door, he walked in almost like he owned the place. Ballsy, perhaps, but you didn't get anywhere in this life by being a pussy. He began to look around for where she might be.

“No, absolutely not, it has to be there tomorrow.” Daniella was clearly heated, her voice raised as she shouted at whoever was on the other line of that phone call. After relocating to Chicago from Los Angeles, she’d left behind a business she’d only recently opened. For awhile, things had been smooth, but the manager that Daniella had left behind had quit unexpectedly and now Daniella was busy trying to clean up the mess. Normally she’d be on the next flight to Los Angeles so she could run the place herself until she found a replacement, but she was awaiting someone from New York and couldn’t leave Chicago right at this moment. So instead she was trying to run things from Chicago, which was not working out quite how she’d hoped. And now her supplier was trying to say that her order of very expensive wine was going to be delayed by a few days because of shipment problems. “You better find a way to make sure that restaurant has wine tomorrow night or you will have to deal with me directly when I get out there.” Daniella hung up the phone, sitting back in her chair and sighing.

“Sal,” She glanced over at the corner, where her bodyguard was reading the day’s newspaper. “Yes boss.” He looked up at her expectantly. “Where is Drogo?” “He should be here any minute boss; the boys went to get him.” She frowned, looking at the time. Closing the books in front of her, Dani put them in her desk drawer before pulling out a second book, one she used to monitor her associates. Since moving to Chicago and joining Don Bonkers, Daniella had moved out of her small apartment in the city and moved to North Side. She’d recruited herself three associates, one of whom she’d had to bail out of some gambling troubles already. Not that she minded really, they all made mistakes when first coming to these shores and she’d known many a good mobster who had lost it all to the dice tables.

“Hey, you can’t just walk in here like that!” She heard the voice of John, one of her newer bodyguards, coming from outside her office door. She shook her head, knowing right away that it meant Drogo had finally arrived. She moved quickly to the door, heading into the hallway to the main foyer where John would be detaining Drogo from moving further into the home. “He’s fine John.” She waved the man away and he obliged, although with a final glance at Drogo. “About time you got here. I’m might have to leave for Los Angeles soon so we’ll need to make this quick. Come into my office.” Daniella headed right back the way she’d come, confident that he would follow.

"Touch me and I will knock your teeth down your throat," Drogo said sternly to John as the man kept him from moving further into Daniella's home. He was quite a bit more vocal when the only person in the immediate area that outranked him was Daniella. He knew his place as an Earner in the grand scheme of things, not having been promoted to Made Man as of yet, but he felt that he didn't need to keep his mouth shut when it was just her and her associates. John kept his hands down but stayed in front of Drogo until Daniella's voice rang through the home. The dog was silenced and went back to his corner.

The pair shared a final glare and Drogo expression was stone-faced, but it melted into a smile when he turned to look at Daniella. She greeted him in a less than happy manner. "The flight from New York was delayed and I kept telling the boys to step on it, but Giovanni has something about driving like my grandmother," the man responded. He approached Daniella's desk after following her into her office. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a folded and crinkled up envelope out of the breast pocket, holding it up to her.

"The money that gavone in Yonkers owed you," Drogo said and placed the envelope down on her desk. He held up the black briefcase after that, "and this." He slammed the case down on her desk and turned it around to face her. He unclipped it and stood up, waiting for her to open it. Inside was stacks of hundreds sorted out into bundles of $10,000 topped by a note scribbled that read "From Drogo, with love".

Daniella shook her head at the two men as she walked back to her office, closing the door behind her. Why was it men always had to prove they were bigger or tougher then each other? It seemed to be constant in this world of theirs, people trying to one up one another. Perhaps, as a woman, she would simply never understand it. Daniella much preferred to make friends of other women, it was fair easier then constantly trying to compete.

The room they had entered was tastefully decorated, with bay windows that faced the front of the home. Sal sat in the corner, in a large comfy chair where he had a perfect view of the front of the home and the door to the office. Ample light filled the room, bookshelves lining the walls and a solid maple desk in the back center. There were two chairs in front of the desk, as Daniella had been conducting business from her home more frequently lately. Moving to the large chair behind the desk, Daniella listened to Drogo explain his delay in reaching her. He handed her a folded up envelope which she addressed first, flipping through the money inside and nodding. “Did you rough him up a bit? He’s been avoiding me for months, it’s about time he paid up.”

Next she looked at the suitcase that he had slammed down in front of her with what seemed an unnecessary amount of force. “If you scratch my desk you’re buying me a new one.” Still, she flipped it open, her eyes skimming the bundles of cash. “Good work. Was this all at the casino?” She motioned for him to sit down as she closed the lid, leaning back in her chair. She studied him for a moment before speaking again. “How’d you like to come to Los Angeles with me? I need to see to my business, it seems things have gone down hill a bit since I left.”

"Wallets tend to open up when a 9-millimeter barrel is tickling your uvula. He paid what he owed and I convinced him to throw in an extra 15% for the trouble," Drogo explained as she flipped through the money in the folded up manila envelope. He pulled his sports coat around the 9mm pistol stuffed into the holster that sat between his hip and the inside of his pants before sitting down in one of the chains in front of her desk. She had a very well decorated desk with a few different knickknacks, one of which he picked up and started playing with. He flipped over one of the other ones, looking at it, before putting everything back where he found it.

He then addressed the suitcase filled with $750,000. "Most of it was, yeah, but that's what you gave me plus 50%," Drogo said somewhat proudly. He smiled and stood up, moving over to the liquor cart. He opened a bottle of scotch and began to pour a little into one of the classes that sat there on the cart. "You've got some balls leaving this out in the open, heh. Although, I suppose your booze are safe and sound with watchdogs like Johnny over there," the man said of the alcohol. The truth was they both had cops on the payroll so between one of them, they were safe to do mostly whatever they wanted.

"You want a glass, darling? What about you, Sal?" Drogo asked after pouring his glass.

Sal was already standing and moving towards the desk when Drogo asked him if he wanted a glass. The older man, who had been with Daniella for most of her life, simply chuckled, taking the suitcase that was on Daniella’s desk and looking at the woman before asking “Upstairs boss lady?” He ignored Drogo’s question completely. “Yes, but leave enough aside for the flight to LA. Have Tony call the airport and make the arrangements.” Sal nodded before leaving the office, taking the suitcase with him.

“You’re awfully bold you know. Try that little move in the home of another Don and you’d find yourself with some new cement shoes. Not to mention you didn’t actually answer the question.” Daniella stood, making her way over to the liquor cart and pouring herself a drink. She raised her glass to him for a moment, her eyes meeting his. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t call me darling again.” A slight smirk crossed her lips, but her eyes emphasized how much she truly meant that statement.  She moved to the window, her gaze sweeping her front lawn as she sipped from the glass. “Since you didn’t answer, it’s no longer a question. If you have something to do in Chicago, now’s the time to do it. We leave first thing tomorrow.”

He watched Sal leave the room and offered a polite, respectful nod before making his statement to her. "You're right, but I'm not in the home of another Don. I'm in your home. You've seen how I act in the presence of the Godfather. I know my place," Drogo said before taking a drink from his glass. "I thought you wanted a lion, not a sheep," the man said almost challengingly. He knew the line and how to toe it, using words she had said in the past.

He raised his glass to her as well, staring into her eyes as well. "As you wish, my lady," he responded as he watched her turn away to the window. Automatically his eyes moved last her to scan the window for any possible dangers, though when he was satisfied that there were none his eyes began to wander to her more flattering features. More little moves he would never try in the presence of another Don. Maybe he didn't know what was good for him.

​​​​​​ "My schedule only fills when you wish it so. Am I riding coach?"  Drogo asked smoothly. Perhaps a coach seat would be her underhanded way of punishment for his little stunts.

The sheer cockiness in his voice was enough to make Daniella want to roll her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure why she put up with him the way that she did, but something made her keep him around. “The phrase involves a tiger, not a lion.” She spun back around, striding over and putting her now empty glass down on her cart. “I don’t know yet; I guess you’ll have to find out in the morning.” She walked back to her desk, taking her seat and pulling out a new notebook. “You can stay in the guest house if you need too. We’re leaving early.” Clearly she meant that the meeting was over and he should leave. If he’d actually listen was a whole different story.

Drogo waved a dismissive hand and shrugged before taking another drink and finishing his glass. "Tiger, lion; it makes no difference to me because I identify with neither. The tiger and the lion may be more powerful, but the wolf does not perform in the circus," he retorted as he followed her steps back to the liquor cart. After she sat down in front of her desk he moved to place his glass on the cart as well, though he separated the dirty glasses and recorked the bottle before examining the label a little bit. He placed everything back and then turned to face the desk, walking over toward it with his hands in his pockets.

He stood across the desk from Daniella as she looked down at the notebook. "I was gone for a week and you're already trying to get rid of me? Did you miss me at all?" he asked playfully.

Ignoring him for a few moments, she made some notes in the book on her desk before she set the pencil aside and glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow slightly. “A wolf is an untamed mess of an animal. A tiger is a graceful beast, just as dangerous but not nearly so savage.” She made the statement very calmly, as if they’d had this conversation a hundred times. Her fingers came up to absentmindedly push a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Your absence was….noticed.” Daniella had no idea what made it so hard for her to talk to the man that was standing in front of her desk. She’d never struggled to talk to men, ever, in her life. But most men were tripping over themselves to tell her how beautiful she was and to do whatever she asked of them. This one was different. “Did you need something else?”

As Daniella explained the differences between the wolf and the tiger, Drogo moved to one side of the room and brought a wooden chair in front of her desk between the desk and the comfortable chairs meant for guests. He had turned the chair around and spread his legs around the back of it, leaning forward to rest his arms on the back. "Untamed mess of an animal, huh," Drogo repeated her before feeling the check the part of his brown hair. "Did I do something wrong with my hair this morning? Did that security agent mess it up?" he said teasingly. He could tell that in her description he was calling him the wolf, her the tiger, her graceful, and he a savage but that was alright.

"Sometimes you need a savage," Drogo said after smiling softly to her. She asked him if he needed something. He paused for a handful of heartbeats and met her gaze. "Oh. No. Did you want me to go?" he asked.

“Your hair looks just fine, but I can always lend you my mirror and comb if you want to be sure.” Daniella was teasing him, clearly. To be fair to her, the comparison was perfectly fair. He was broad shouldered, with a well-groomed beard. She held his gaze for a few seconds, the question he asked last not quite registering right away. When it did, she looked away, back down at the notebook, shaking her head slightly as if to break a spell. “Well surely you have something better to be doing with your time. Being out making me money, for example.” Daniella flipped to the next page, running her pen down the sheet and making a few checks here and there. She avoided looking up at him, not quite sure it would the smartest of ideas.

"You are too kind," Drogo said in reference to her compliment of his hair. He stroked his beard for a moment at the profiteering question. "Well, have you looked at your watch lately? Its about seven pm, so all of the shops are closed, the dealers are at home breaking their own number one rule, and honestly snatching purses is for the thugs," he explained. "Not to mention, that suitcase that Sal just brought upstairs had enough money in it to fill every closet in this house with purses and shoes, so I see no reason to go out." He paused for a moment, keeping his piercing gaze on her. "And you said it yourself, I needed to get some rest because we were getting up early tomorrow," Drogo added. "Maybe you should get some rest, too. Mind showing me to the guest house?"

Well, it was true that it was about time for Daniella to stop working for the night. What she really needed was a nice glass of wine and to get out these heels; she wasn’t even sure why she was wearing them in her own home except that she often had guests in and out during the day, dealing with business. She sighed softly, closing the notebook and glancing at the time. “I’m tempted to have John take you out there, just for the fun of it.” She smirked at the thought, glancing at him for a moment. “But I don’t really feel like having to make a hospital trip tonight, so I will bring you myself.” She put her notebooks away and stood, motioning for him to follow. Leading him back out towards the main foyer, she turned away from the front door and instead lead him through the kitchen. Her home wasn’t extraordinarily large by any means, but she’d been sure to find one with a smaller home in the back. The place was one floor, really only consisting of a small bedroom, bathroom and small kitchen/living room area. It was meant for situations just like this, a short stay. Pushing open the door, she walked in and flipped on the light. “Nothing fancy, but it should do for a night.” She looked over at him once more, smirking softly. “Also, you have no idea how much I can spend on purses and shoes.”

"I am touched that you would visit John in the hospital," Drogo said matter of factly before grinning and following her. He and John met eyes as he followed their mutual boss to an unknown part of the house, at least to John. The pair made their way out to the guest house and he stepped into the single room and turned back to face her. He chuckled at her comment about the purses and shows, believing it whore heartedly. He nodded quickly and stepped back to the doorway where she was standing. Staring into her eyes, he took her hand in his, bringing it up to plant a soft kiss on the back of it. "Thank you," he said. Getting just a little closer, he whispered something into her ear.

If she had seen the glance between he and John while she was leading him out of the main house, she would’ve chided them both for acting like children; but since her back was turned she didn’t see it and she could only roll her eyes at his comment. When she’d led him to the small guest house, he took the chance to do that thing again, the thing that seemed to throw her off her game and make her lose her ability to focus. She held his gaze as he kissed the top of her hand before he got close enough to whisper in her ear, his beard tickling the skin of her cheek.

It took a few moments for her brain to catch up and she stepped back, pulling her hand away as she did. “Get some rest then. We’ll be leaving early.” She smiled softly, lingering for a moment before she turned and made her way back to the main house. She had a feeling this man was going to be trouble for her.

The next morning Daniella was up bright and early. She didn’t mind mornings; getting up right at the crack of dawn when the sun was just barely starting to rise. There was still plenty of time before they would need to leave to catch their flight to LA, but Daniella was up anyways. She did this often, getting up before the rest of the world so she could take some private time before the calls and mails started to pile up. Today she’d decided to use that time to do one of her favorite things – paint. She sat in her little makeshift studio, her hair thrown back into a messy bun, and worked on a plain white canvas that was on an easel in the middle of the room. Scattered around were paintings, all in various stages of completion. She got bored easily it seemed and started making new ones without finishing the last one. She’d go back to it eventually, in time, and finish it, but it could take months for one to be completed.

The light from the upstairs window would be the only one on in the home, making her rather easy to find if anyone were to go looking.

After undressing himself and slipping his gun under his pillow, Drogo eventually drifted into lala land and slept soundly throughout the night knowing that rough men like John stood ready to do harm on his behalf. He and John never saw eye to eye, but they both knew that in the end, they would be trigger men for the other if it came down to it. To that end, he did get a good nights rest. He awoke more or less before the sun, though marginally later than Daniella. For a handful of moments, his hulking frame leaned over the bed as his feet pressed against the floor of the guest house. "Shower," he said to himself. He looked over to the door of the guest house and noticed that his bags had been placed there, likely while he slept and he smiled.

"Good ole boys," Drogo said quietly to himself. He slipped into a pair of shorts and made his way barefoot and shirtless out of the guest house. He stood up and stretched a bit, enjoying the feeling of the pre-sun burned cool air tickling his chest and back. This late at night, or rather early in the morning, just the entrances and exits to the home were manned by Daniella's men. "Vincent. Night shift, eh?" Drogo said to the man, offering a firm handshake and respectful nod as he made his way into the main house. He explored around a little bit, never having stayed the night here, and only spending his time in the main foyer or his Don's office. He walked around, never successfully locating the bathroom, but finally locating a room with some lighting flooding into the hallway.

He made his way down to the room with his two small bags in tow and entered quietly, noticing Daniella painting with her back turned to him. He watched her for a moment, examining her from head to toe, noticing her messy bun, and modest morning clothing. He stood there for a handful of heartbeats before his deep voice filled the room.

"Hm, this isn't the bathroom," Drogo said from behind her.

Biting on the end of her paint brush, Daniella’s brow was focused on what was in front of her. A few strokes and it was back to the biting. She could envision what she wanted but getting there was a different story. She didn’t consider herself a master painter but she liked to think she had some talent. She didn’t really do much with her paintings however, so really it could just be all in her head.

She heard the footsteps on the stairs but didn’t think much of it; her bodyguards were all over the property and she’d know if there had been some kind of disturbance. But she didn’t expect the first that she heard either and it startled her, causing her to jump as she turned towards the door. “Jesus Drogo, don’t do that. I could’ve shot you.” Not that she had her gun on her right that moment, but still. Her eyes swept over him for a moment before she responded. “Two doors down, on the right. Or, you know…in the guest house.”

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been shot at and it certainly won't be the last," Drogo said after waving a hand and looking around the room. He placed his back down by the door and walked into the room a little further. His eyes went to the windows instinctually, scanning for any threats as he walked by them since he remembered that he noticed a light from the guest house. "When the last time you showered in that guest house? It isn't the biggest shower and I am not the smallest person," Drogo commented idly as he examined her painting. He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees, his frame flexing as his pectoral muscles were tensed.

"I didn't know you painted," he commented softly, keeping his voice down since he wasn't across the room now. "That's shading, isn't it?" he asked, pointing to a part of the painting, which was conveniently in a position where he would have to hover his arm around behind her to point to. A moment later, he reached down to her paints and took a dab of blue on the tip of his finger, examining it closely. He grinned devilishly and reached down, touching the dab to her nose ever so slightly with a reflexive grace. "Heh heh heh," he said, rubbing the rest of it on his pec. He was about to shower anyway.

“The shower in the guest house works just fine.” Admittedly, it probably was on the small side. But that didn’t mean he needed to be walking through her house unannounced and half naked. He came over to where she was standing, leaning in to observe her painting, his body easily blocking hers from behind as he reached around to point to a particular spot on the canvas. “It’s a hobby. And yes, that’s shading.” She put her paintbrush down, keeping her eyes focused on her painting. Which is why she didn’t notice at first when his finger dipped into her paint, until it hit her nose, causing her to mouth to open slightly in shock. She spun to look at him as he smeared the rest on his chest, which caught her off guard. Taking her paint brush, she drew a line straight across his chest, almost instinctively. “We’re not having a paint war in the middle of my studio. Go shower.” She frowned, shooing him off. “We’re leaving in two hours.” She waited for him to leave before she turned back to her painting, sighing softly.

Two Hours Later

Daniella was downstairs in the main foyer, ready to go, giving the last of the instructions to the men who would stay behind. She wore a baby blue dress that had small white polka dots, a white wide brimmed hat and pumps. Her hair was down in loose curls. She looked nothing like the hardened criminal that she was; in fact you’d never guess by looking at her that there was a hand gun in the small bag she carried and she’d killed more men then she could count. Or even that one of the two suitcases that was being carried out to her car was full to the brim with cocaine, ready to be sold when they arrived in Los Angeles. That was the point after all - charm and grace could go a long way in ensuring their safe travels.