His to conceal #1

8|| -step one-

-Domenico-

"I don't care how you get him to me, dead or alive it doesn't matter! Just bring the goddamn man to me! Figilio di Puttana." I exclaim into my phone for the fifth time today, honestly I really better start doing better background checks on my men. After all I do not pay them to be incompetent and laze around on their arses all day. (Italian: Son of a bitch!)

I mean seriously sometimes I think I'm better off telling a wall to do the work, at-least then I already know it won't happen.

It could just be the frustration about a certain brunette with brown eyes or a grumpy old man, but today I feel way more hotheaded than on a daily basis, that really says something.

Fuck I need to calm down.

Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse, a knock sounds at my door. For the love of god, why can't people give me a break!?

"Come in." I command in a cold calculated voice, not wanting to deal with any more bullshit today.

They open the door painfully slow and I'm starting to wonder if it's a ghost behind there. Once they fully enter the room and shut the door they turn to face me.

Fuck me, it's the grumpy old man who's one of the main reasons of my sour mood.

Giovani alessandro.
Commonly known as...my father. Former don of the Italian mafia.

The one man I despise the most in the entire world, well that's partially true. Ok maybe the second man I despise most in the world stands in the centre of my office as if he owns the place. The first one being Cassio Gonzalez.

"Son." He greets in acknowledgment with pursed lips, as I fight back a repulsed gag at the word 'son'

I hate it when he calls me that, it's like a reminder of the screwed up job he did as a father and a reminder of how we share the same blood.

"Giovani." I reply in acknowledgment with a nod of my head and a pin straight face, I always refer to him by his first name, I can't actually remember a time I didn't if I'm honest.

"I need to discuss something with you." He states short and briefly, and I gesture to him to take a seat upon the chair in-front of my desk as I take my own seat behind the desk.

He nods curtly and takes the seat, then proceeds to spread his legs out widely as if he owns the place.

Despite being thoroughly disgusted.

"what would you like to say?" I inquire, straight to the point not wanting to drag this on a second longer than necessary.

"I think it's high time we talk about the proceedings of the rank you now hold and the responsibilities that now rest on your shoulders." He speaks swiftly, no room for hesitation.

He says it as if it's that simple, as if we're old friends who tell each other everything. He also says responsibilities as if he knows what those even entail.

When infact he doesn't know, even though he previously had the rank of being the capo of the organisation, he didn't give two shits about it then and definitely doesn't give any now.