He had hoped that his enemy wouldn't show his face here at the Ball, and for a while, he was sure Mendoza was nowhere in sight. Unfortunately, Sonny had seen Mick Mendoza strolling out to the terrace. Everything that was in him told Sonny to leave now, to spend the rest of the evening with Carly alone, in their penthouse, where nobody could touch them.
Yet they were still there.
Sonny turned to the bodyguards sitting across from them. "Deanna? Deborah? Could you please take my wife down to the car?" His hands covered Carly's when she started to protest. "Honey, please, just go. I'll be there in a few minutes." Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles and flashed her his trademark dimples. "I promise."
How could she resist those dimples? "Sonny, just please be careful." She stood up from the chair, her hand still in his. "I saw Mendoza, I know you're going to go talk to him." Her eyes followed his as he stood up. Placing her hand on his face, her thumb ran along his bottom lip, her chuckle low and sultry when he nipped at it with his white, even teeth.
"You have five minutes," she instructed, her eyes dancing with the images of the night ahead. Pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, she wiped away a slight smudge of lipstick before turning to follow her guards to the car. She allowed herself one peek over her shoulder to see if Sonny was watching, and she wiggled her butt slightly, urging him to take care of business. Quickly.
Sonny's eyes remained focused on Carly's back, more specifically the point just above her tailbone, where the dip of the dress ended, leaving men to wonder what she would look like completely naked. The smile stayed on his face until she turned the corner and was out of sight.
With his face harder than stone, he turned to Francis and Johnny, beckoning them with a slight tip of his head. All three men stepped out onto the terrace and into the cool night. The gentle breeze might have been a welcome reprieve from the overheated ballroom had it not been for the man standing before them.
Two hundred and eighty pounds of muscle, and pure perversity.
Sonny had heard stories of Mick Mendoza's exploits before he's moved to Port Charles, but Sonny kept a close eye on him. Child pornography and prostitution did not sit well with Sonny, and he'd be damned if Port Charles would be infected with Mendoza's sickness.
"Mr. Corinthos." Mick didn't turn around; he knew he wasn't alone, and he knew who it would be.
"Mendoza," Sonny spit out through clenched teeth. "Why are you here?"
Mick turned around, his fine brown hair ruffling in the breeze. His chuckle was low and throaty, more of a vibration than anything else. "It is a free country, Corinthos." He stood erect, his full six feet slightly intimidating to most.
It didn't do a thing to Sonny Corinthos.
Sonny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?" His eyes bored into his opponent, his hands planted squarely on his hips, like an impatient mother trying to shush her children.
Mendoza laughed heartily at his question, his hazel eyes dancing. "Why must you always assume I want something Corinthos?" He approached the three men, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I can't just enjoy myself? Give a little something to charity perhaps?"
"No." Sonny's voice was flat, just like his eyes. Never had someone annoyed him so much. Not even Sorel had been this cocky.
Mendoza's gaze dropped to the cement, and he nodded. "I suppose you're right." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked back to Sonny, his head tipped to the left slightly. "Actually, I was hoping we might come to an agreement? Something mutually beneficial."
Sonny cleared his throat, forcing himself to take a breath instead of wrapping his fingers around Mick's neck and squeezing. "One would think you'd have learned by now." He crossed the distance between them, his face mere inches from Mendoza's. "I. Don't. Deal." He turned away, walking around Mick to lean against the railing. "I would never forge an agreement with a disgusting serpiente like you. I never have, and I never will." He spit the words out, the sour bile rising slowly but surely to burn his throat.
"Yet you let me stay in Port Charles. Now why is that, Corinthos?"
Sonny sighed, and his mind briefly flashed to Carly lying naked in their bed. "Honestly Mendoza? I haven't the foggiest." He spun around, his pupils completely dilated. "How about we remedy that right now? Johnny?" He looked around Mendoza to his guard, "Would you care to do the honors?"
Mendoza paled, his attention turned to the men behind him. Johnny's hand had already closed around the butt of the gun, and was pulling it out when he saw Sonny shake his head.
"Mick, get a clue. You're alive because I let you live. There is nothing - nothing - that would force me to deal with you." He brushed his way past the mobster, leaving him to stand open mouthed on the terrace.
Once the men were gone, Mick let out a small laugh and shrugged his
shoulders. "Only one thing left to find," he mumbled to himself before
returning to the ball.