Chapter: 18

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"Blood makes you related, Loyalty makes you family"

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Dean Pov~

I watched as Marcio and AJ walk out the store. I elbowed Michel as he grunted snapping at me "What?" I looked down at the rack trying not too make it look obvious, as I searched the shirts on display. "They left." I mumble. Michel nods and continues picking up clothes left and right. 

"That was fast. Maybe a little too fast." He mutters under his breath for only I to hear. I looked around the store as it buzzed with people of all ages and races. Most of them being tourists and too caught up in their own worlds that they wouldn't pay any attention to two little kids shopping in what is considered a "grown up" store. The only thing making it grown up is the classy and tailored suits and high end designer shirts, slacks, etc.

For kids our age they wouldn't be caught dead in store like this, whereas with us this is all we wore when we weren't in school. We were always dressed to impress. Not suits all the times but dressed decently enough that would catch the eye of any one looking.  

"You think it's a trap?" I ask lowly as we walked over to the other side of the store which held slacks, jeans, and shorts all lined up in various styles and colors. Michel looked at me and behind us making sure no one was paying us any attention. "I think it was too easy. How really awful is the mafia at camouflage? They were trained,  they can't be as bad as AJ and the rest make them out to be." He strategized, as I can tell he has thought about this more than I realized. 

I shrugged and shoved the clothes into a bag as it became too much to carry since I still have more to pick up. "I don't know, AJ and Marcio know what they are doing, if it's a trap they will know." I said. "Let's just get the rest of what we need and get out of here." He says getting back to picking up clothes and shoving it into his bag. 

After we finished which was another 15 minutes later we decided to check out since the guys never came back from wherever they went off too. Walking up to the cashier we were met with a thin pale man with a black goatee, as he saw us his smile turned into a frown. "Hello there, I assume those bags are yours." He said with distaste clear in his words and his eyes as he looked down at our 4 bags. Two for Michel and two for me. 

"Yes please. And we are kind of in a hurry." I said placing the bags on the counter. He peered in the bag and took out each item. He is probably wondering what the hell two kids are doing in his store. I smirked at his confusion, if he only knew who we were. Or rather who our father was, if my mother was here he would of been on his knees with one look. 

He seemed thrown off by my smirk but continued to scan all the items. I was focused on the man while Michel scoped out our surroundings discreetly just like our father had drilled into us at ever training session. 

"Questi stupidi ragazzi" The man behind the counter muttered, i barely heard it but I did. (Translation: These stupid kids) I smirked and said "Questi stupidi ragazzi ti capiscono." (Translation: These stupid kids can understand you.) His face turned a tint of red as I smiled at his unease. When he finally rung up all the clothing he turned to us with a big smile plastered on his face. "That would be 1,556.09 euros." That is about $1,765 in USD. Which is nothing, compared to the amount of money at our disposal.

Michel smirked and smacked down at a black platinum card. The mans eyes bulged out at seeking the sleek card. It had his fathers name on the card, Adriano Basilio. The black platinum card is for the richest of the richest people who want to hold all their money in one place. I remember my father telling me this particular card was native to Italy. We don't have all our money on here, but we had enough for the traveling. 

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