Alessandro Maurizio
(FLASHBACK)
"Alessandro!" I groaned in irritation as I heard Patrizio yell out my name a few seconds before he poked his head inside my room without knocking.
"Learn how to knock," I threw a pillow at him, which he dodged skillfully.
I was kind of happy that I had extra company in the house (don't get me wrong, there were a lot of men in the house, but none of which were my age) but sometimes, he could be a serious pain in the ass.
Pat rolled his eyes, not bothered. He was lucky I wasn't fond of using my gun — my padre had gotten it for me for my thirteenth birthday. "Sir said it's time for training."
Another groan escaped my lips. None of us were exactly enthusiastic about training, but he never complained about it because he wanted to please my padre. He didn't want the fact that my father brought him in to be a waste. He didn't want to be a liability. He wanted to be an asset.
That was a good idea on his part, but it usually made my padre compare us. Eventually, he realized it was so because I was his son and didn't care much about pleasing him. I knew he loved me either way.
"I'm not waiting around for your ass," Pat added when he saw that I wasn't getting up. "I'll meet you at the range." With that, he was out of my room and most likely running down the stairs, wanting to make it on time.
I sighed as I turned off my phone after exiting the mobile game I was playing — I didn't get much time to do those, but sometimes, I just needed to unwind.
I didn't waste much time in changing into a tank top and sweatpants and when I got to the shooting range, Patrizio was already practicing his shots.
My aim was almost perfect — would've been perfect if I took it very seriously — as I'd been training since forever while Pat only started a year ago and recently with his shots.
My dad mostly required me to train alongside Patrizio so he wouldn't be alone which meant I was learning the same things again. For the first few seconds, I just stood and watched him shoot at his target. He was getting better each day. It was a good thing he was a very fast learner. It helped both of us when it came to schoolwork.
I didn't necessarily like school. I didn't think I'd need a degree for anything based on the line of work my father was in, but he insisted I get a degree if not I wasn't going to take over from him.
It was a great incentive as I wanted to run the mafia one day and it pushed me to take my studies seriously, which was having Pat help me understand the things I didn't.
"What are you doing there? Come over here."
I resisted rolling my eyes as I strolled over to where my father and Patrizio were.
Another thing that made me realize my father had a soft spot for him was the fact that he was training him, himself. When I first began training at eleven, he didn't even train me. He had one of his men train me. I only recently had the honor of being trained by him.
"Hey, pops." I greeted, ignoring the scowl that my words emitted. He always demanded I address him in Italian. I never did because of the reactions I got from not doing it.
Looking at my father was like looking at an older version of me. Our facial features were practically the same, just with his more mature. I took nothing from my mother, except her dark eyes.
My padre opened his mouth, probably to scold me, but closed it back when we all heard a loud shot ring around the house. My eyes instinctively dropped to Patrizio's gun, but he had a silencer on it.
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