Special and dear thanks to @sorellarryoned for being my Italian translator for the dialogue in this fic :^)
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Red is such a bold colour. It can show emotions from rage to romance, a whirlwind of shades leading to a lone thought or memory.

Harry's favourite colour was orange, but now looking at Louis in a fitting silk red dress had him falling back onto the primary colour. The material clings to his curves and over the swell of his lower back. Louis' silhouette was outlined by the thin fabric, and the fringes sashayed with each taunting step he took. An absolute dream in Harry's books.

LOUIS' DRESS: VERSACE 

It didn't help Harry try to remain unfazed as Louis' panties were visible on the base of his hips. He clenches his fists by his sides and sees a woman walks toward him from the corner of his eye.

She was one of the designers and stylists Louis hired for tonight. She had short blonde hair in a pixie cut and dark green eyes. She was holding a large box with bold printed white writing on the lid. "Gucci." Harry reads and almost jumps out of his skin when a hand settles on his waist.

"Custom." Louis' voice rings with a hint of amusement. "One of a kind just for you."

Harry is in a haze when Louis excuses the stylist and orders him to strip. His wet hair drips onto his shoulders and he carefully unwraps the towel from around his waist. His cheeks heat when Louis' piercing stare lowers to his bare crotch. The Donna smirks, his red lips stretching and fingers trailing up the slit in his dress. His fingernails reach the fabric and pull it a bit higher, giving Harry a glimpse of the flimsy lace material of his panties. Harry almost melts at that moment, but his cock hardens and he covers himself like an insecure virgin.

"You have nothing to hide, daddy." Louis licks his lips. "Let me see you."

A simple request but Harry reluctantly removes his hands. Louis' eyes trace over his body, over every muscle, every tattoo, and every scar. The Donna steps forward, his dainty hand coming to rest on Harry's pecs, grazing his tattoos and tugging lightly on his nipple. One hand circles the back of Harry's neck, rubbing comforting shapes on his skin. Louis' other hand falls lower on the man's lean body, down his chest hair, and to his happy trail. His red fingernails brush Harry's pubic hair and the latter takes a sharp breath.

It was so viciously intimate, Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cock and locks his eyes with Louis'. His eyes were so blue, a blue Harry wishes to swim in and to be fair, he could drown in those eyes.

"Do you want me to touch you, daddy?" Louis' lips form the words so slowly, he drawls on. "Or do you want to touch me?"

Harry's eyes almost bulge out their sockets and he immediately grasps each cheek of Louis' plush bottom. "How about," he mouthes at the Donna's neck, inhaling his perfume of peppermint, "I touch you, and you touch me, babydoll?" He tags on the nickname, almost jerking out of Louis' hold when the latter let out a quiet moan.

"You like that, hm?" Harry hums, taking it all a step further and massages Louis' bottom. "You want this, don't you?" Harry appreciates the tables being turned like this, he wasn't the one being teased and he was determined to keep Louis from gaining control again.

"Oui," Louis falls limp in Harry's board form, shrinking.

"Mhm," The taller groans when Louis' hand grasps his cock. "Tell me, who's babydoll are you?"

Louis basks in Harry's dominance and shuts his eyes in contentment. Someone like him, dripping with power and could do more with a flick of his wrist than an army—and he absolutely adores the thought of being cared for. He wants nothing but for Harry to tear him apart, slowly and sensually and uncover every one of his secrets and desires.

"Yours." That one word locks Louis and Harry in their gold plated handcuffs of devotion, infatuation, and holy sin.

Harry's hand dips into Louis' dress from the slit, he pulls the boy closer and slithers his way under the band of his panties. He fingers the fabric and groans lowly when Louis' thumb rubs over the tip of his hard cock. "Daddy's babydoll." Harry finds Louis' lips in a frenzy, firmly squeezing the Donna's ass. Just when Harry's finger circles Louis' rim, a knock on the door has Louis' teeth biting into his lip. The agent pulls away, sucking on his throbbing lip and tasting blood.

"Ma Reine, your car will arrive in twenty minutes."

Louis snaps out of his submissive daze and takes a step back. "Merci, Aurora." He calls out. He sees the smallest bit of cum on the tip of his fingers and locks his eyes on the panting agent, he brings his hand to his mouth and parts his lips. Harry's Adam's apple bobs when he's forced to study Louis suck dirtily on his fingers, humming around the digits and swirling his tongue around the tip. Harry wishes that was his cock instead. The Donna shoots Harry a teasing smile. "You should go blow-dry your hair. I'll call my hair-stylist."

Harry blinks rapidly and stands there, naked and hard in the middle of the hotel suite. Louis waltzes back to his vanity and picks up a tube of red lipstick. "Go on. But put on clothes first."

Forty minutes later, a white limousine pulls up to an extravagant venue. There's a long driveway leading to the doors. A big fountain with gushing water shimmers in the setting sunset, and Harry leans over in his seat to awe at the golden arch frame and wide carved doors. When the limousine comes to a stop, Louis reminds Harry to put on his sunglasses and the man obeys. Harry runs a hand through his hair and Louis must've seen the distaste on his face.

"I like your hair this short." The Donna reaches out and brushes a rogue strand from Harry's eyes but it only falls back into place. Harry's haircut was clean and resembled a prince in Louis' opinion. "Very handsome." He appreciates his hair-stylist.

Harry slips his hand on Louis' exposed thigh and squeezes the tender flesh. "Who are all those guys?" He asks, seeing the many, many men from the window as they stand like statues in fitted black suits and black sunglasses.

Louis checks his make-up in a small shiny compact mirror. His eyes were lined with a black wing, a light shade of blush over his cheeks and a strong glimmer of highlighter on his prominent cheekbones and the very tip of his nose. He touches up his lipstick and puckers his lips. "They are bodyguards." The lone diamond on his cheek catches the light.

"Yours?"

"Do you still think we are the only ones attending tonight?" Louis shuts his mirror and slips it into his clutch then unclasps his seatbelt, Harry does the same.

"To be honest with you, I still don't know what tonight is." The agent admits with a sheepish grin. Instead of discussing his questions with Louis during the car ride, Harry admired Paris' architecture and mostly Louis' side profile because it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Louis blinks slowly and his long eyelashes brush his cheekbones. "It's my birthday. The most exclusive party in the world."

Harry's eyes widen and his fingers stop tracing on Louis' thigh. He turns to the man with an astonished expression. "You didn't tell me." Harry accuses. "How could you not tell me?"

"Today isn't my real birthday, that's all the way in December. This is only a celebration." Louis waves dismissively, his stiletto nails tapping against the door handle.

"You should've told me." Harry frowns deeply offended. "I would have bought you something."

The Donna grins, and Harry has the honour of seeing the apples of his cheeks turn into a soft pink. "There's a lot of things I haven't told you," Louis reminds him, "yet."

Louis wasn't lying about it being exclusive. After all, on paper, Louis didn't exist. Harry exits the limousine and walks to Louis' side, he can feel the intimidating gaze of all the tall, buff man by the entrance and he quickly swings Louis' door open. He holds out a hand, like the gentleman he is and helps the Donna from the car. He sees the men immediately bow their heads in respect of Louis and Harry thinks it will take a little getting used to. The Donna fixes his dress and slips his arm into the crook of Harry's.

It was so strange to Harry, he was so unaware and felt like a stranger in the best sense. He was a newcomer and was linked arms with a man who is none other than the most infamous criminal on the planet. The men in the black suits separate to clear a path for Harry and Louis before two of them open the large doors. When Harry takes the first step into the hall, he feels a wave of goosebumps rise over his skin.

All eyes turn to the new arrivals. One was the Donna who was being celebrated dressed in a glossy silk and fringe dress that falls to his feet in his signature colour of bright and bold red. Over his exquisite dress was a sheer black coat with fluffy black feathers on the trim, it swayed with every step he took in his Christian Louboutins. His jewelry and iconic diamond on his cheek gleam in the light from the chandeliers.

LOUIS' FULL OUTFIT: Prada, Versace, Chanel, Dolce and Gabbana, Christian Louboutin, and Benedetta Bruzziches. 

The man next to him towered over his head, hair a deep shade of brown and with skin as clear as a summer day. His wide shoulders and lean legs in a red suit decorated with black embroidered floral designs that swirled over the scarlet fabric that was a few shades darker than the Donna's.

HARRY'S OUTFIT: Gucci (custom from his tour, credit to the owner for the pictures)

Harry's cheeks flush as all eyes remain on him and Louis. Everyone else was dressed in black, the darkest hue he's ever seen as they all just looked like shadows in the night. He follows Louis' lead and turns left and goes down a hallway until they reach a door. The Donna knocks his fist on the door lightly, and it swings open.

"Harry, stay here for a moment," Louis demands with a small pinch to Harry's hip.

The agent looks up and sees a familiar thin but muscular man beyond the door. "Where are you going?" He lets himself be pulled into the room by Zayn.

"To greet my guests, I could almost feel how nervous you were." Louis slips off his coat, sunglasses, and hands it all, including his clutch, to Zayn's waiting hands. "And, some of them may recognize you. Let's not forget who you are, daddy."

Five minutes. Harry lasts five minutes before he's making his way through the array of conversing men and women, and he fails to notice that they were all well-known criminals, ranging from mafia Dons, gang leaders, and corrupt government officials. Harry ignores Zayn's calls for him and glides through the exquisite hall with the modern renaissance theme. It takes him a few seconds to find Louis, it wasn't too hard considering he's in a vivid vermilion dress. Upon reaching the short, curvy Donna, Harry slips a hand on his waist, squeezing it to get Louis' attention.

The Donna merely glances at him before doing a double-take, he turns away from the other man and faces Harry with a small furrow in his brows. "Hello."

"I missed you." Harry was pathetic really, but he was so obsessed, it was a challenge to even think without Louis popping into his mind.

"Louis," the other man speaks, his grey mustache neatly trimmed and eyes attentive on Harry's form. "Chi è questo? È un tuo amico?"

"Who is this? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Più che amico, Leo."

"More than a friend, Leo."

Harry simply frowns because he wishes he understood what they said. He waits for Louis' attention once again. And of course, it comes and he's being pulled forward.

"Harry, this is Leopoldo." Louis introduces. "He runs things in Italy while I'm gone."

The older man smiles at Harry, his white teeth glowing in the dimly lit room and holds out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you." He says politely and turns to Louis revealing a long scar from the bottom of his ear that trails down his neck to the inside of his shirt. Leopoldo leans close to Louis and whispers quietly before smiling once more at Harry and saying, "if you'll excuse me, I need more wine." Then, he wavers through the crowd and is gone.

"Not a man of many words?" Harry tilts his head.

"Leo was a dear friend of my father, has practically watched me grow up." Louis swipes two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, he hands Harry one of them. "He likes you, trust me. If he didn't, he would've stabbed a knife in your neck."

It takes Harry a few seconds to react, so he shakily laughs.

"I'm not joking," Louis smiles in amusement. "Leo has done that to people who step on his shoes."

Harry stops laughing.

It's Louis' turn to giggle. "You're like a puppy, innocent and naive." He reaches up to cup Harry's jaw, the latter leans into his touch.

Harry finds himself drifting from Louis and observes the hall. It was dark to say the least, the littlest bit of light coming from the hanging chandeliers and casting dull shadows over Louis' face. Then, Harry catches the eyes of a tall woman from afar, her gaze settles on him for a moment, and it's cold. "Louis,"

The Donna sips his champagne. "Oui, daddy?"

"I never asked but who else is here?" Harry looks around, seeing nothing but black clothing and different faces.

"My family, my dearest friends," Louis informs loosely, "trusted business partners."

The Agent nods once but almost freezes when he sees directly behind Louis, a group of men who glare at him. Their dark eyes holding him down like a gun to his head, at that moment, Harry knows exactly why they shoot him daggers.

In Harry's time of being an Agent, he's put plenty of criminals away and has sent off the arrest to the ones he couldn't catch himself. That group of men consisted of men Harry remembers locking up, sending them away for years and making them pay their dues.

Harry feels his heart begin to race. He was standing in the middle of a luxurious hall in an exclusive party surrounded by the guiltiest criminals. Some men and women Harry have worked on, trying to find but eventually, if he failed to succeed, the case would be passed onto another agent. Around him were people who his colleagues have been searching for, and any agent in their right mind would call back up and arrest them all. Harry shivers at the realization. He feels so out-of-place, but truthfully, he was no better than them—he was an Agent, and is the arm candy of a Donna he's been assigned to track down and capture, and he couldn't think of a better way to spend his night.

"Recognize anyone?" Louis surprises him, but it's no secret that he can read Harry like an open book.

Harry gulps, willing himself to break the men's gaze just as one of them slightly move their suit jacket, revealing the shiny handle of a pistol. Harry squeezes his champagne glass and blinks rapidly. "No." He denies quietly. "No one at all."

Louis shoots Harry a look but decides to let him keep his pride. The Donna turns for a moment and sees two slender identical people make their way to him. He pulls away from Harry and kisses their cheeks in a greeting.

"Abela, Adamo." The Donna quips.

Harry stares at them, unable to look away from the incredibly identical twins. They both had dark hair, the male had his hair in long waves and the woman opted for a sleek black bob style. Both of them had dark arched brows and deep brown eyes with slim faces. They are both dressed in black clothing, the man wearing a ribbed turtleneck with black slacks and the woman clothed in a simple black dress that ended at her knees.

"Abela, Adamo, this is Harry." Louis slyly pulls the Agent close. "He's my plus-one tonight."

"Nice suit," the male nods approvingly. "Burberry?"

"Gucci," Harry replies, straightening his posture.

"Ah," Abela raises her glass, "Louis has always had a particular taste. Very marvellous and expensive." She says. "But he has never been accompanied at any of his highly anticipated celebrations." She acknowledges and smooths a hand down the front of her tight black dress, "the dress code for his birthdays is always black. Just like a funeral."

"And in our world, at both funerals and parties, everyone is loaded," Adamo stifles a laugh, "not only with cash obviously."

The three laugh, and once again, Harry nervously chuckles. They joked so easily about things that would frighten the normal person. Not everyone is used to seeing guns and weapons at something so dreadful and mournful as funerals.

"Let's hope tonight doesn't end like last year." The one called Abela swooshes her wine. "I would much rather not spend the next four months in the hospital."

"Kendrick insisted all doors were guarded." Adamo's voice is deep and graced with a heavy Italian accent.

"Well, Kendrick was a mole." Louis' lips are in a thin line. "And, I despise moles."

Harry clears his throat, feeling the unnerving energy radiating off Louis. He has yet to see the man angry. Harry only imagines Louis' entire face goes red and his lips twist in a furious snarl.

"What do you do, Harry?" Abela turns the attention to the tall man. Her brown eyes study his statue. "You must be of high authority since Louis even bothered to bat an eye at you."

"Harry caught my attention," Louis swoops in and saves Harry from stuttering, "and has demonstrated his deep loyalty to me."

Harry chugs the rest of his glass, setting it on the tray of a passing waitress and grabbing another. He needed to occupy himself before he looked too obvious. He didn't know if he should be glad Louis didn't tell the twins of Harry's true occupation. It was like their dirty little secret.

"Oh," Adamo blinks, looking between the Donna and the man. "Who did you put in their deathbed?" He ponders.

Harry almost chokes on his champagne and feels Louis' dainty hand rub soothing circles on the base of his neck. "Not that kind of demonstration, Adamo." Louis defends, "Harry isn't like that. Harry is still new to this kind of stuff. Don't scare him."

A part of Harry is embarrassed at the fact he needed to be excused from his behaviour. It wasn't his fault he wasn't born into a life of crime, he didn't find guns or death funny—it just showed how much he didn't belong in Louis' life.

"Oh, new blood?" Adamo raises a brow. "Most members are murdered in their first year." He adds.

Harry stiffens. Surely, he wanted Louis, but he also wanted to live. He couldn't praise Louis from a coffin six feet underground.

"Don't stress, you'll be fine." Abela flicks her neat bangs from her eyes. "I remember when I was going through my training." She purses her lips. "My pinky never healed properly." She lifts a hand and gestures at Harry. "Bend it."

Harry sips his glass and hesitantly reaches to pull back her pinky. He watches carefully when she edges him on further. Harry pushes down and chokes on his champagne and coughs roughly. He hunches over and a small hand rubs up and down his spine.

God, they were vile. Pinkies weren't supposed to bend all the way back to the point where the bone is visibly sticking out from beneath the skin. He hated the loud crack her pinky made.

"Weak stomach?" Abela chuckles, stepping forward and leaning into Harry's space. "With that slit in your eyebrow, you look like you would be exactly like Louis." She implies. "Unhinged, impulsive, and badass."

"Right," Adamo agrees. "Who the hell gave that to you?" He leans close like his sister, studying Harry's face.

"Louis." Harry almost forgot about the slit in his brow, it was so deep that it was likely hair wouldn't grow from that one spot.

The twins' eyes widen comically, both whipping their heads in Louis' direction. "To be honest, I'm not too surprised." Adamo moves his hair from his forehead, revealing a long scar that went from left to right. "Louis tried to scalp me when we were younger because I stole his favourite doll."

The Donna laughs gleefully, Harry is delighted to see this side of Louis. Soft, happy, and all smiles. "I loved that doll. She was limited edition and there were only seven of her in the world."

"What did you do for payback?" Harry has the guts to even ask.

"I burned it. All the way to ashes." Adamo says carelessly. "Louis got his own revenge. He cut the breaks on my first car, thus killing my first butler."

"You ran over him."

"I couldn't stop," Adamo cackles as if they are just recalling a joyful family memory. "Abela was sad, she liked Timothy."

Harry was speechless. So he finishes off his glass and grabs another, but it's taken from his hand. He looks down and sees Louis sipping on a full glass of champagne. So, he takes another and holds it in his left hand, the other hand trailing down Louis' back, over the swell of his bottom before firmly cupping his plump cheeks. Harry squeezes lightly and hides his smirk in his glass when Louis lets out a squeak. "What about you two?" He directs the question to the twins.

They both laugh. "You don't recognize us, do you?"

"To be fair, we are most well-known in Italy," Adamo interjects.

"Tell me, Harry," Abela's accent resembles her brother's. "Does The Great Melancholy of Rome ring a bell?"

It's like a lightbulb going off in his head, Harry almost gasps. Years ago, the stock market crashed in Rome. Famous business leaders lost millions, billions of dollars, and many were forced to proclaim bankruptcy. Harry remembers it like yesterday, watching the news and watching men and women weep and curse at their misfortune. "I remember that. Like four hundred billion dollars were lost." Harry recalls in disbelief.

"567 billion dollars to be exact," Abela smirks and shoots a wink at Louis when the man rolls his eyes. "Well, that stock market crash, wasn't truly a crash, to say the least."

Louis makes an amused sound, similar to the chirp of a bird, and Harry preens at the sound. "Abela and Adamo are my few last relatives, they run their own mafia in Rome called Medusa and frankly, are guilty of the stock market crash in Rome that grim year."

Abela grins wide, a dimple appearing on her left cheek. "We don't call ourselves legends, but you have every right to, Harry. Who knows, maybe one day, you'll have fear erupting whenever someone hears your name."

NOTE: i hope you all enjoyed this chapter :^) sorry for the long wait but i hope it was worth it :^D