Salvatore.

One

*Warning* This Book Will Have Swearing in both English, Italian and Spanish.

Giovanni sat in the middle of his soon to be office, he had taken off his suit jack and was left in only his shirt; his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, letting greedy eyes take in the few tattoos that inked his skin. No emotion took hold of his face as he leaned back into his chair; his tongue ran over his teeth, eyeing the glass of whiskey that was placed on the desk in front of him. Watching the golden liquid he let the suspense rise, taking pleasure in making the poor bastard wait. Then he crossed his arms and raised his cold grey orbs to look at the pússy that sat before him. Giovanni didn't need to glare at this man; he didn't even need to say a word. The scariest thing Giovanni could ever do to you, is to just look at you and say nothing; because you never knew the true extent of his anger. This pathetic boy he once called a man knew nothing of Giovanni's rage, and inside; Giovanni was delighted he could demonstrate.

The boy shifted nervously in his seat, he knew what he did wrong; but he prayed his future Don would have mercy, but oh was he wrong. At that moment, the two large oak doors that led into the office opened and in walked one of Giovanni's first cousins; the future Consigliere, Marcello.

"Giovanni." Marcello greeted, lowering his head in respect. Marcello looked back at the doors and saw that the two men who were positioned outside closed them after he entered, when he turned back to his cousin he took notice of the small man sitting in a chair in front of him. He knew better than to ask questions, so he went straight to business.

"You called for me?" He questioned, but by the way he said it, it sounded more like a statement. Giovanni nodded his head, unfolding his arms and leaning on the desk; he gestured to him. An evil grin making its way on his face.

"Marcello, soon my father will be handing his empire down to me; his second oldest son. So when I take my title as Don, you will be my Consigliere; which means I should consult you before I make any decisions, correct?" He asked, grabbing his whiskey and taking a sip. Marcello let a hint of confusion flash past his eyes. He knew, Giovanni knew the answer to that; the whole Cosa Nostra system had been drilled into their heads ever since they were children. But as Marcello took one more look at the boy, who appeared as if he were going to pass out in fear at any moment; Marcello realized what was going on.

"Yes, that's correct." He answered, letting a smirk of his own spread across his lips. Giovanni's eyes glinted with evil intention as he set his gaze upon the cowering boy.

"This man, or should I say ragazzo (boy)." Giovanni spat, venom laced in his words. One of the worst things a man could be, is not a man at all.

"Has broken one of our Ten Commandments, since he obviously can't remember them Marcello; recite them for him." Giovanni ordered. Marcello took a deep breath, ready to speak the commands he was taught before he learnt how to talk.

"1. You can not be apart of Cosa Nostra if you have a close relative in the police, if you have a two-timing relative in the family or if you behave badly and don't hold to moral values.

2. All Mafia wives must be treated with respect.

3. You can never be seen with cops.

4. You can't go to pubs and clubs that don't belong to the family.

5. You are always available to the Family- even if your wife's about to give birth. Cosa Nostra comes first.

6. All appointments must absolutely be respected.

7. You never look at the wives of friends.