I left the club on Friday evening right after giving the orders to Fabio and straight to my forest house. And I took Gina with me. I promised to have her that night but the damn news diverted my intentions.

She's the best I know in literally sucking the fucking life out of me till I drop dead and I'm so damn in need of this right now.

Lately, I've been feeling rather anxious, like expecting something, as if... the thing, that very thing your life depends on is getting closer and I just can't put my finger on it.

Everything was running smoothly before I lost the deal of the year for fucking American company, run by a fucking ghost, a fucking ghost I have so much to do with, apparently, and by my father's legacy.

I mean, don't get me wrong, my life is an everyday roller coaster and further than any peaceful living, and since I'm the Don, well... that is a whole different kind of life but it's not that. I'm used to it like I've been born to be the Don.

I had no idea how my father was back in his time or what kind of boss my uncle Paolo was, but I know I'm nothing like them.

Back then la famiglia was holly. Traitors were given second chances, young soldiers were trained and supervised, older members were taking responsibility over the younger ones and raids were like house calls on holidays.

I don't work this way. A traitor dies from the first deed and his family is ripped off of all possessions, that if they're not killed together with the motherfucker that crosses my way.

I don't do raids, I do murder, face to face, eye to eye and I make sure that no more oxygen is wasted on a second breath.

Have I had raids run over me? Sure! I lost the count of how many assassination attempts on me had been but I must be the devil itself. Some haven't even scratched me, others have sent me to some parallel dimension for weeks but I always come back, to the bad luck of those who have wished me dead.

After shooting a single bullet into their brain I would stare into their eyes till the last flicker of life is off and make sure my face is the last thing they see and take with them on the other side to remember to watch out even in hell because I'll hunt them down even after death.

Moroccans are no fuckers to joke with and the thing they ask from me it's pure madness and impossible to find, and they know that. That's what worries me the most but still, nothing I can't handle.

If Benito is still alive, Moroccans can fuck themselves. He is mine to deal with.

When I open my eyes in the morning I find myself alone in bed and surely Gina is not around anymore. No woman sleeps in my bed and she knows that better than any of my girls. That's why I like her and I keep her around because even though she's way over the age of working in a club she does a great job training the new girls and keeping a strong hand on them.

My phone screams with missed calls from Fabio and I'm sure he has news about the constructors in Paris but I need a coffee first. It's Sunday, for fuck's sake!

And the next thing I do is open the app of books and check the writer's profile like it's a fucking routine of the morning.

Nothing new. The fuck with her! She can't drop the book in the middle just like that... and what the fuck do I need her for? I can find thousands of other books to read in there but... there's none like hers, even though she hardly has a few hundred reads.

Am I an idiot for becoming so fucking hooked on a shitty story or the other readers are simply stupid?

I fucking love that story! I mentally curse while grabbing my cup of coffee and exit on the patio, in the chilly air of the forest, wearing only my pj's pants and shivering at the contact of my skin with the cold fabric of the sofa. I read her last two replies which sound so fucking honest and innocent and they make me smirk again with a growing desire inside of my brain of knowing who she is.

Or in my chest, but what the fuck? I don't have a heart in my chest, just some bullet holes and most probably some iron left from the previous shots I've got.

So definitely it's my brain, but if it is, surely it's broken.

The phone rings while I'm still staring at her last lines and Fabio's name flashes on the screen.

"Morning," he says before I have any chance to speak.

"Fucking morning, Fabio. Cosa c'e che non va?" (What's wrong?).

"Poche cose, potrei dire." (A few things, I might say).

"Shoot!"

"Oh, trust me, I would if I knew whom. Listen, I have the confirmation from the construction company. They will reopen the works tomorrow early morning."

"That's good. Where's the bad thing in that?"

"The bad thing is that the Moroccans refuse to leave before they meet with you. Their boss is still quiet, no reply yet."

I hum and growl at the same time. Fuck, it's like I have an animal inside of me.

"Alright, let them be. Both parts. Just make sure we travel to NY tomorrow early morning and..."

"Raffa... I'm not sure we..." he mumbles and I can already smell fear shaking in his voice.

"Fabio, ascolta e ascolta attentamente! Nessun figlio di puttana mi spremerà con scadenze né minacce! Ho detto di lasciarli stare!" I stop his chicken shit bubbling. (Fabio, listen and listen carefully! No motherfucker will squeeze me with deadlines or threats! I said let them the fuck be!).

An awkward pause settles between us and I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with the fresh air of the morning and waiting for my racing heart to calm.

"I smell fear in you, Fabio, and you know I'm not good with that. You give in once, you'll give in every time with this fuckers."

"It's not about that, Raffa. Nobody knows anything about Vincenzo Benito for years now."

"There is no coincidence that he's come up now on the lips of everybody. I'm sure he is alive and I'm sure I'll find him. What I'm not sure of is if we find him first and this is the key with the Moroccans."

"They lost money, Raffa. Just like we did."

"I'm not going to team up with them, Fabio. Not in this. Fuck the money! Benito and I have a history, it seems. He is mine."

He puffs when figuring out what I'm thinking of.

"Well, I guess nobody can talk you out of it so... alright. Let's fucking do it!" he agrees.

Fabio took a bullet saving my life a few years back and I swore myself he would be my brother for the rest of my life but that doesn't include being a chicken shit.

Now, I know that things are not what they seem most of the time but unless I face the guy I won't know what really happens with Dad. And then there are the stories of Grandpapa Capozzi, the naked truth as he used to say which was the exact opposite of what Nonna said the truth was.

So, you see? I need to find him and I need to clear the skies. If he's guilty, he'll die by my hand. I owe that to my father.

"Before we travel I need Nonna's house doubles with security and inform the guards that Tiffany can't move an inch out of the house even if she's dead."

"Sure. I'll pick you up at 5 am," he says but my attention diverts suddenly to a strange noise to my right, through the branches.

"Hold..." I whisper and shove my hand under the table next to me where I always keep a gun ready.

"Fuck, I'll call TJ and send a car over," he says immediately understanding what is going on.

I abandon the phone on the sofa and move barefoot towards the house, fairly ready to duck the second I hear the gun's click before the bullet is shot which is exactly what has happened and instead of shooting back I throw myself behind the house and hide from a bullet missing my flesh with just a few inches.

Perfect! Stupid shit! Now I know exactly where the bullet has come from and nobody knows these places better than I do.

What surprises me is the single bullet shot which tells me there is a sniper after me.

I slide around the house, holding my gun tight, and reach the very point I have been searching for. Between the branches, I see the flicker of a lunette shining with one single sun ray and I aim at the exact spot leaning my right hand with the gun against the left forearm for better precision and I shoot. I hit his arm and I see the gun flying away and a loud groan of pain follows.

Before the poor sniper realizes what has happened I'm already next to the guy hitting the back of his neck with my gun and letting him fall unconsciously to the ground.

I need this fucker alive. My forest house is surrounded by wires, robes hidden between the branches, and almost every meter you can find a weapon prepared.

I climb one tree next to us and pull a robe to tighten his hands and legs and then I drag him after me while I walk back to the sofa where I've dropped the phone.

"Fabio, where the fuck is that car?" I growl on the phone breathing heavily and dropping the unconscious body next as if he's a trophy bear.

"I'm on my way, Raffa. And TJ is with me. We'll reach you in fifteen minutes," he replies.

Fifteen minutes is more than enough for me to eviscerate this motherfucker all over my patio and the eagerness to do so crawls under my skin but I choose to shake it away, walking around to ease my anger, running a hand through my hair and talking to myself.

"I need him alive. I need him alive. I need him alive," I keep saying to myself. "Cazzo!" (Fuck).

I make sure he's still out then walk in the house straight to the minibar in the living where fix myself a glass of whiskey which I throw hastily down my throat, squeezing my eyes at the burning liquid sliding down to my stomach.

I fill the glass again and take it with me to the patio where I sit breathing heavily still. The sniper's body is crashed on the hardwood next to me.

The wound on his right arm shouldn't be a problem and I'm pretty sure I haven't hit him hard enough to kill so most probably he should have come around by now but before I have the chance to confront him directly I hear the engine of a car closing in and seconds later Fabio shows up.

"Raffa..." he says short of breath and closely followed by TJ, my locker-size security head.

"Take him down," I order TJ without any other instructions and enter the house together with Fabio.

"I knew something was wrong when the Moroccans were so relaxed being rejected," he says.

"It's not the Moroccans, Fabio."

"Then..."

My mind is too busy right now to explain to Fabio my hunch and I make my way to the cellar in the basement hoping the guy isn't awake yet. TJ had him placed on a chair, wrapped in ropes, nicely pinned to it, and happily, he was still out.

"Apri la bocca, TJ," I say and once he has that done, I stick my finger and grab a pill hidden behind the teeth of the motherfucker sniper. (Open his mouth, TJ).

It's a long pill, most probably poison, prepared for whenever he's being caught and the shock in Fabio's eyes almost amuses me.

"It's someone from inside, Fabio. And I bet that this fucking someone has sold my deal to Benito."

"Cosa vuoi che faccia con lui, don Capozzi?" TJ asks and I take a moment to think. (What do you want me to do with him, Don Capozzi?).

I want to find Benito by myself. It's not a challenge, it's meant to be a statement.

"Take him to the mansion, keep him locked till I'm back. Nobody talks to him a word, even if he tries to spill the beans. And let me know what this is," I say and give him the pill walking out of the basement.

"How did you know?" Fabio asks when we're up in the living room and we both sit, grabbing a drink and a cigarette.

"I didn't. It was a hunch and I wished I wasn't right, Fabio," I reply sucking the cigarette deep into my lungs and exhaling loudly.

This is a total game-changer and I'm afraid Vincenzo Benito has always been closer to me than I've ever imagined. How the fuck I didn't know about it?!

"We'll go to NY, we'll track Benito by ourselves and..." my thoughts are suddenly sunk and lost, gracefully remembering the Don in the fucking book I'm reading.

Poor chicken shit mafia Don would have been killed if he were me.

I shift my eyes to Fabio and stare at him, remembering the tasks I gave him.

"Have you got info about the writer?" I ask.

"Ma che cazzo, Raffa?! You were almost killed today and this is what you're thinking about?" (What the fuck, Raffa?!).

"Well, did you or you didn't?" I calmly ask, ignoring his tantrum.

"Fucking piece of shit! Sometimes I swear I think you're bipolar," he curses and stands up, exiting the house after putting the cigarette off just to come back with a yellow file that he shoves under my nose.

"You will like this," he states and sits back in his spot while I open the file.

The moment my eyes land on the picture inside, my breath stops, so hard and long, feeling the drums of my heart beating in my temples and the shock doesn't come from the confirmation that she's a woman. I already knew that.

My mind rumbles thousands of thoughts in the span of a few seconds, while I keep staring at the gorgeous face from the pictures.

She's young, fucking beautiful with long, curly hair, plump lips, and some bright amber eyes that feel like looking straight into mine.

I try to speak, to collect my thoughts, and even open my mouth a few times and raise a finger and I just can't find the words, the thought, the question... Do I even have a question?

I hear Fabio smirking and that pulls me out of this fucking void that I feel sucked in from the moment I've had the first look at the picture, and each moment I land my eyes on it again.

I close the file without checking the other pictures and hoping that the spell will vanish the moment I stop looking at it, but fuck, I'm still trapped, dumbly enchanted by what I've seen but perfectly finding every emotion under a frown of eyebrows that I've been always mastering and has always been the best mask to hide my human self.

"Her name is Emillia Tozzi, originally Italian, been living in NY since she was five, no history before that, no family I could find, very few friends, close none. She studies architecture at Stanford and she's quite a good one," Fabio details the info I've asked for and I lean against the backrest, not liking what I hear but actually loving it.

"You don't say... an architect..." I mumble scratching my chin and with my thoughts lost some might say but in fact, very accurately building a plan to bring her close to me.

Because... she likes it or not, she'll finish that fucking book when I say... and I don't even think it is about the shitty book anymore.

I simply want her close... closer... the closest she can be because, in the back of my mind, she has already made herself a spot which if it's going to be empty for long I feel I can't be myself.

~~~~~
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