La Reine; larry stylinson (bottom!louis top!harry)

15. Ambrosiano.

Burning Desire - Lana Del Rey

Harry doesn't know why he denied Louis' proposal to show him the restroom. He just remembers gently pushing the Donna away when he announced where he was going.

"You might get lost, darling. Let me show you where it is."

"It's fine," Harry stepped away, looking away from Louis' pout. "Wouldn't want to drag you away from your own party, baby." He tags on the nickname.

Louis' cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "Don't go alone."

Harry smirked, "Babydoll, let me do this. I'm a tough cookie." Then, he walked away, listening to Louis' amused giggles fade.

The building reserved for Louis' party was ginormous. The ceilings were high, elegant lamps and realism style paintings hung on the walls in a long hallway. Each depicting a man clad in purple velvet wearing white gloves and holding a gold cane. Harry passes and observes each painting, in one the man is standing on a pedestal, in another he sitting in a red throne, and another he is standing by a fireplace and in the rest, he is doing other poses. He had defined features hidden in washes of pale pink and light tans. His eyes were the same in every painting, striking blue, an icy blue that brought goosebumps up Harry's arms.

"Ambrosiano "Agro" Tomlinson, father of La Puissance, or should I say the father one of the three founding families."

"Sorry?" Harry turns, seeing a man clad in black. He had brown eyes, thick eyebrows and a scar on his top lip that stretched to one of his nostrils. Harry recognized him as one of the men who were staring at him earlier.

"Mafias have been around for ages, but surely you know that." His accent was heavily American, sounded like it was from Brooklyn to be exact. "He was a business man, an investor and fell into the hands of dangerous wealth. It all started when he made a name for himself in New York and Chicago in the 20s, putting his money to good use and manufacturing alcohol for himself and his fellow businessmen in the city."

Harry cautiously steps back to keep a distance between him and the man.

The man stares longingly at the painting, he smiles with only one side of his lip lifting. "He ruled a third of Italy and Russia, half of New York and Mexico, and nearly all of Paris in the late 1930s. Could do more with the snap of his fingers than any man other than the president of the United States at the time."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry criticizes, "If you will excuse me, I have to use the restroom." He tries to walk past the man but he lifts an arm.

"You know why his paintings are in every room in this goddamn building?" The man turns to him, eyebrows knitted tightly and teeth clenched.

Harry hears footsteps behind him and sees men in black suits come down the other end of the hallway. He stiffens his posture and squares his shoulders, he can sense the tension is rising.

"This building used to be where he lived, he ruled here, he killed here, he died here. The father of one of the infamous Ambrosiano mafia." He smirks when Harry looks confused. "Never heard of it? Why don't you ask around, hm? See what La Reine, Argo's grandson, is hiding behind La Puissance. Ask him if the Ambrosiano family rings a bell."

"I'm not asking him anything." Harry was taller than the man, but he was outnumbered. "You're just wasting my time."

The man laughs as if he's just heard the funniest joke in the world. He looks around at the other men, they're all smiling. Harry gulps.

"Wasting your time, hm? Like how you wasted years of my life when you put me in fucking prison." He fumes. "Don't recognize me?"

Harry stays silent, he's arrested so many people and put a good portion of them away. He couldn't pin this man's face onto a name, not one he's seen recently anyway. He gasps when his arms are yanked behind his back, he roughly shoves them off, only for a fist to slam into his face.