✧

I pulled up to the broken-down building and parked on the curb.

I took my gun out of the glove department and placed it in my hand.

After pulling my shades on I abruptly opened my car door and stood out.

I looked behind me and signaled my men to follow me.

Business during daylight was risky, but I'd know better than to disobey my father's orders.

God forbid the fùcker does anything for himself.

I walk inside the building, my eyes meet Elio's as he was leaning against the wall, his gun in his hand.

I nod in a direction and he follows behind me.

We made it to the door we were looking for.

It was closed but easily seemed broken enough to open with a slight push.

I kicked my leg at the door and it automatically slammed open.

My eyes glance over to the man in the corner, crawled in a ball, sobbing quietly.

Packets of white powder surrounding him along with empty beer bottles.

I walk up to him and kneel to his level.

I watch him flinch as I take my hand to my pocket and grab my lighter and a cigarette.

I place the stick between my lips and light it up, looking him in the eye while doing so.

"P-please Angel, tell your father to g-give me another chance." He stutters hopelessly.

His beady stoned eyes were glossy as if he were about to cry.

Weak.

Elio came beside me, looking the man dead in the eye before shooting his leg.

The man screamed in agony.

Music to my ears.

"Money?" I asked as I took a drag.

He coughed as the smoke blew in his face.

I cocked my head and swung the gun around my finger.

His eyes widened impossibly more as his leg pooled in blood underneath him.

"He asked you a question." Elio snaps at him.

The man flinches and looks up at me.

"No." He says quietly.

The anger within me strikes.

"Grab him." I order darkly.

My men come in front of me and lift him with ease.

His hopeless pleads and whines fill the old building's walls.

I push the safety off of my gun, the sound triggering the man even more.

I smirk evilly as I place my gun to the front of his forehead.

"Angel, I'm begging you, plea-

He stopped talking as the bullet went through his head.

He dropped to the ground, ending with a loud bang.

I look at him coldly as I take another drag.

"Puliscilo." I order my men.

Translation; Clean it.

I turn around and stride towards the building doors, Elio on my trail behind me.

Once I made it outside I threw my cigarette to the ground, putting it out.

"Do you want the transactions?" Elio asked me.

"Yes, send them through," I tell him.

He nods and walks over to his car.

I lean against my car and look up at the dull sky.

I ran a hand through my hair and got into my car.

After starting it up, I drove away driving towards my house.

As my car pulled up, the black gates opened.

I drove through them easily and parked at the front.

As I stood out of the car my eyes gazed over the black SUV parked right in front behind mine.

I clenched my jaw, as I knew immediately who was here.

My guard opened the front door for me, I walked through and watched my maids and cleaners walk around the house silently.

I walked towards the kitchen, just as I passed the lounge area my eyes caught onto the deafening glare of my father.

Carlos Romano.

My mother by his side, though her presence always seemed out of place with her innocent soul.

She looks over at me and smiles widely before getting up from her seat and walking over to me.

She wraps her arms around me making me stiffen and tense.

I hated affection, though it seemed it was something I craved from one particular brown-eyed girl.

"How's my boy?" My mother asks kissing my cheek.

I looked at her emotionlessly as she pulled away.

My father silently sat on the couch, watching the interaction intently.

The brown liquid in the clear glass he held moved in circular motions as he moved the glass around.

"Leave him, Emila." My father says sternly.

She sighs and walks away sitting back on the couch.

"Perché sei a casa mia?" I asked.

Translation; Why are you in home?

My father's laugh fills the silent room as he places the glass on the table beside him.

"Ricorda da dove vieni, figliolo." He says, venom filling his voice.

Translation; Remember where you came from, son.

"I built my way here, with my money." I stated, with just as much venom.

He glares at me and I stare at him blankly clearly annoyed with his childish behavior.

"Fermare." My mother calls.

Translation; Stop.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair.

"We're holding a ball, Thursday." My father announces.

"You need to be there, we are siding with the Russians." He says, leaving no room for discussion.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Russians?" I question.

He sighs and looks at me with no emotion.

"Yes. We need them as an Ali." He admits.

I nod.

The Russians are filthy.

They have a record of being dirty rats in the Mafia world. Once you on their side, they'll take advantage of you and your Mafia.

"Non è tutto vero?" I promt.

Translation; That's not all is it?

An evil smirk makes its way to his face.

"We will play their own game, soon enough their men will be with us." He insinuates.

Suddenly a knock comes from the doorway.

"Sir, theirs a man waiting for you at the enterprise." One of my father's men announces.

My father nods and dismisses the man.

"Parleremo in seguito." He says and begins to exit the room.

Translation; We will talk later.

My mother follows beside him but then stops when she reaches me.

She takes my hand in hers and kisses it.

"Stay safe my son." She pleads.

I nod at her.

"I will." I assure her monotonously.

"Emila, come." My father calls.

She smiles at me before going back over to my father's side.

I gulp down the rest of the glass my father had left and place it back down on the table.

Once the front door shut closed I made my way straight towards my bedroom.