Control

15 - Little Liar (Vince POV)

a/n - VINCE POV AHHHH

"Why do you think I run AVE Security, Clyde?"

"I-I don't know, the money must be good." He nervously chuckles, sitting across from me in the office of one of our safe houses.

I don't laugh, and instead choose to lean back, fiddling with my gun in my lap. It's silver, highlighting the edges of the weapon under the dismal light in the room. My black suit brushes against the leather chair as I slowly sit back.

Clyde Anton, one of the head financial advisors in I Diavoli, the American-Italian Mafia based in California. Enzo had ties to them once, before he and his family cut off contact somehow. We're smart enough to know not to mess with them, and seeing Clyde now, it's no surprise that he knows he fucked up.

"I run the security branch because I know exactly who needs their ass saved the most. And you, Clyde, you need saving. But, I think it's quite obvious to me that you aren't telling me all of the details." I clear my throat, standing up and turning my back to him, looking out the window. California was quite grey this time of year.

The girl I was with last night said she liked California. She enjoyed the hot weather so that she could wear more swimsuits, like the one she had on. I told her that it was October, and it would come to an end sooner or later. She said that she gets to wear swimsuits all day long, her job is modeling and she's asked to be in a lot of shoots for them. I told her that her job sounded boring as fuck.

She was offended for a while. I didn't mean to offend her, I suppose sometimes I'm too blunt, but if someone can't handle the truth then they shouldn't be around me. I told her exactly that, it didn't stop her from sucking my dick seconds afterwards.

It wasn't good enough to distract me from this conversation right now. God, I wish she was good enough to make me zone out of this hellhole.

"Does it matter if you know all the details? I can give you more money-"

"I don't care how much money you're willing to pay me!" I yell, before sighing and straightening up. If you upset I Diavoli, I need to know about it. I mean," I laugh curtly, and turn to him. "You want to be alive, don't you?"

Sweat runs down his face as he stands up as well, starting to pace around the room. "You don't understand, Mr. Grey, you haven't seen them." He sighs, and stops pacing for a moment, turning to me in exasperation. "The Don is angry. Really angry. Their main source of income is gone."

I pause, and my eyes widen slightly before forcing my face back to a blank slate. A strand of my black hair falls in front of my eyes as I turn completely towards him. "What do you mean by...gone?"

He raises his arms in the air, a trait he must've picked up from the Italians. Clyde himself is Greek, but being around an Italian mafia for 15 years must've made him an honorary member. "I don't know! I begged someone, anyone to tell me what was going on, I mean hell, I ran the finances! And it wasn't even like they were severely low on money, they're I Diavoli, of course they're going to have more income, but something about the art auction income just dropped. And now, if you even look at the Don wrong, he'll chop your head off and use the blood as paint."

I raise an eyebrow. "So what the fuck are you doing here, in my safe house?"

He bows his head in shame. "I looked at him wrong, I suppose. He directed all of his anger at me, because I ran the accounts. He eventually became delusional, and assumed that I must be tampering with them in some way."

I look him up and down. Clad in trousers too small for him and a white unbuttoned shirt, it was obvious that Clyde was a mess. He had been living in the safe house for a few days, and learned how to use the shower only yesterday, which hasn't been very pleasing for my guards. His hair was uncombed, and his five o clock shadow was prevalent.