So... all arrangements are done," Fabio breaks the silence I've tried too hard to keep in the past four hours of our flight to the States.

"What?" I ask absently, pretending I haven't heard him the first time, still lost in the vast surroundings of clouds that the airplane floats above.

A tall, thin, and young flight attendant walks in carrying a tray with two glasses of whiskey and bends forward once she's in front of me, displaying a generous, perky chest to my vision and a naughty smile.

"There you go, sir," she speaks sensually, staring intensely into my eyes and waiting for a reaction that only comes in the form of a head tilted to my right shoulder and a disparate message from my eyes to her eyes saying fuck off.

She inhales deeply, hiding her eye in embarrassment, and turns towards Fabio to offer him the other glass hoping she disappears before I snap, me or her neck because, at this point, I can do both.

I could blame the sniper who tried to kill me yesterday or the fucking traitor who sent him for being so much on the edge of snapping any moment or for chewing my cheeks almost every second but that would be a lie.

It's her.

The moment I landed my eyes on those photos of her something changed. It's like I've fallen ill.

I can't breathe most of the time and when I finally inhale some air it goes in like balloons.

It can't be a cold, I know what a fucking cold feels like but it most probably is some heart issue. The simple sight of the fucking app icon on the screen of my phone makes my heart race like stallions and not on a regular rhythm, no.

It feels all over my chest, sometimes it pulses in my temples, and for these very reasons, my friends, I have to find her, bring her close till she's done with the book, and maybe make her write another.

The fuck, I'll pay her. I'll pay her the amount of tens of thousands of copies, better than any library.

I smirk, lost in my thoughts again to the utmost dislike of my best friend slash brother who is now inches away from my nose, staring at me with anger burning in his eyes.

"Do you even fucking hear me, Raffa?!"

Of course, I didn't. Cazzo!

"What is it, Fabio?" I ask him so leisurely and calmly that it even scares me.

"Where should we land first? This is the last moment we can communicate our destination," he elaborates.

I prolong our intense stare and take a moment to think. I can see the restlessness in Fabio's eyes, but still... I'll do whatever the fuck I want.

"Where is she right now?" I ask another question and Fabio snaps up on his feet, raising his hands to the ceiling and begging for patience.

"Santa Maria, Madre de Dio, dammi pazienza," he prays to the skies, making me mentally laugh. (Saint Mary, Mother of God, give me patience).

"Fabio! Fabio, vieni qui," I ask him almost bursting into a spree of laughter that I know will make him mad. (Fabio! Fabio, come here).

He rubs the back of his neck and takes a moment to recollect, walking away from me a few steps.

We know each other since childhood and his insisting on me more than I can take when I'm clearly fucking serious about something is the one thing he knows not to do.

And in my turn, I know him well enough to understand that this anxiety he has hides something more than I know.

I stand up since he delays to answer and I grab his jaws with my hands, forcing him to look at me.

"Che cos'e, Fabio?" I ask, staring deeply into his darkened eyes. (What is it, Fabio?).

He shakes his head and yanks it from my grip.

"Something is fishy, Raffa. Something is very fishy. We were doing just fine until now with the Paris project. Moroccans knew right from the beginning about us and now... they turned against you. They are digging la famiglia and the fuck knows what they have promised to convince a member to betray."

"Lo so." (I know).

"Where did you find that little brat living with Nonna? Who is she? I doubt it is just a coincidence the fact that hours after she entered your life there's a sniper sent for you."

I press my lips in a thin line and I do pay attention to what he says. In other circumstances, his questions would have been legit but my gut says different.

I don't think she has any connection with that. It's not something ordinary that I enter randomly a bar where someone could plant a mole and pick me up.

But something is fishy, I'll give him that. The sniper thing of yesterday is a whole new level of eliminating me and there are very few people that know about that place, extremely few, so yeah. I have a mole in la famiglia and I know difficult times are waiting for me.

"It's not her but I agree. Something is coming and I need to be ready to welcome it."

"Then che cazzo ci fai con questa scrittrice... architetto o che cazzo è?" (What the fuck are you doing with this writer... architect or what the fuck she is?).

He is right. I know he is right but like never in my life before, this time my brain doesn't listen when it comes to her.

"Alright," I finally say. "Alright, let's deal with this fucking Benito then," I agree but in the back of my mind I know I won't leave the States till I see her.

At the end of the VIP runway, as we land on JFK, a black SUV is waiting for us and I'm told it is going to take us straight to the offices of MT&L Corp., the company that supposedly is not involved in snatching my deal right from under my fucking nose, which supposedly doesn't belong to Vincenzo Benito, who supposedly is not alive anymore and fucking supposedly never existed.

Fuck this shit! I'll find him, dead or alive, and if he's dead I'll bring him back to life just to kill him again.

Once we are on the stairs of the flight a young man gets out of the black car and I can recognize Benedetto Santi, the eldest son of one of my most trustful partners, displaying a broad smile to welcome us.

I put on my shades and wait for Fabio to get closer to me.

"Did he know we're coming?" I ask.

"I didn't tell a soul, not even to his father."

"Well well well. Seems we're getting closer to the traitor," I mumble and smile.

Let's fucking party!

"Don Raffa, welcome to NY," Ben says and shakes vigorously my hand while I play dumb and pretend happy to see him.

I'm sure he thinks I suspect nothing considering his father keeps pushing in front as the soon heir of his businesses. And I keep it this way.

"Good to see you, Ben," I reply and we all get in the car, with Ben in the passenger seat while I and Fabio get in the back.

I act casual and relaxed while mentally I cringe at the possibility of having been betrayed by one of my most trustful partners and leisurely I feel my gun with the tips of my fingers.

"So, where to?" he asks turning around toward us.

"JW Marriott," Fabio replies.

"MT&L Corp.," I double that, and all pairs of eyes land on me.

"Al... alright," Ben stutters and turns around, fishing his phone out of his pocket, and starts typing.

I can smell fear in him. He's too young to play his cards like a pro and that is my royal flush.

None of us spoke before arriving at the sumptuous office building of MT&L, crowned with enormous blue letters just like the color of the ocean, the main transportation services they offer.

Ben walks in front of us, leading the way to the main entrance while the other four guys follow me and Fabio, and from a meaningful look, we both share I understand they are our guards.

Now feels better.

We take the elevator to the last floor in the same heavy, awkward silence stinking of Ben's anxiety hidden behind a dumb smile.

I know for sure Benito won't stay aside if I show up in his office, unannounced.

But what do you know?!

"I'm sorry, our president is not available for today but the CEO will see you in..." a very sexy assistant replies to my request to see Vincenzo Benito.

"You mean, Vincenzo Benito is not available," I try to make her spell the name.

"Our president is not available," she sharply replies, stubbornly refusing to involve any name in our discussion. She's very well trained and for sure paid a fortune.

"Mr. Capozzi, it's a real pleasure to have you here," a short guy speaks while approaching with a stretched hand to shake mine.

"I'm here to see Vincenzo Benito," I insist.

"It's my honor to..." he tries the same strangely as the sexy assistant but his words stumble in his throat when I fetch his neck and squeeze the fingers of my right hand around till his face becomes red.

"I said I am here for Vincenzo Benito," I hiss.

"Don Raffa..." Ben tries to involve but I stop him, raising my other hand and pointing my finger at him while still looking at the tomato-red face of the CEO.

His phone rings and when checking the call, his fingers rush to slide the green button.

"Yes. Yes," he speaks.

"Sir... please..." the CEO mumbles when becoming short of air and I loosen my grip just to allow some air.

Ben hands me the phone, saying no word and I take it, placing it to my ear and listening for a moment to the other person's breathing.

"Capozzi here," I finally say in a menacing tone.

"Don Raffa," he greets in the usual addressing form for a mafia head.

"Who is this?" I ask although I had a pretty good idea who he was.

"It's the president of MT&L. I understand you've been asking for me and seems my CEO does not raise your expectations."

I have to admit. I'm fucking impressed. His tone is calm yet harsh, deep and I read him to be a man of my size, and seems his legend does him justice.

"I'm here to meet Vincenzo Benito, not some messenger pissing his pants."

He hums deeply, taking a moment that seems an eternity.

"And what is the reason for your visit?"

"Well, besides the fucking weapons deal you've stolen from me..."

"Wait..." he tries to speak.

"We also have some unfinished business, a certain kill you did, one that... needs closure."

There's no reply, only heavy breathing on the phone and before I have the chance to snap with anger roaring in the back of my mind he takes a step forward.

"There are two cars in front of the offices. They will take you somewhere you can find me. I'll be waiting. Take two men with you and the young brave man who has been digging the city to find me a week ago."

"See you in a bit," I reply shortly and hang up, throwing the poor CEO on the floor and the phone back to Ben.

The worst fucking joke that fate can play me now is to find out the figlio di puttana whom I've just spoken with is not Benito and yes, this does exist in the back of my mind and if it's not him, Ben will be a good place to start searching again.

The way he showed up at the airport, out of the blue, tells me he's not as innocent as his father tries to portray him.

As instructed (fuck I hate this word) we took the cars from the office building premises, drove about an hour, and soon arrived at a sumptuous villa outside the city, not before both I and Fabio and my two guards are dispossessed our guns.

Well, at least the ones they could find.

Fabio tried to talk me out of it but fuck, I came here to find Benito and this is what I'm going to do.

I'm ready for anything although my throat is quite dry and I could really use some good old Irish whiskey.

"Benvenuto, Don Raffa," a young man welcomes me when we access the front doors of the villa waiting for no reply he turns around and walks us to a large living room and then a wooden door which opens without any other introductions. (Welcome, Don Raffa).

Before anything I'm heavily hit by the smell of cigars and whiskey and fuck, it makes me feel at home. It's dark and cold, the kind of place I like and I almost pray that the guy living here and whom I'm supposed to meet is not Benito, because I'm here to kill and it would be so sad to kill a man who knows a good cigar and a strong whiskey.

"Don Raffa, welcome to my house," a strong voice booms from the right side of the room, and once I turn my head around I see a tall man coming into the very shy light of a desk lamp.

This is Vincenzo Benito, I can bet my neck for it and unlike the feeling of anger and hate, I've thought I would grow once I have him face to face, the exact opposite feeling settles between us.

He's as tall as fuck, almost as tall as I am but then again I'm the size of a fucking camel.

He walks slowly toward the chair of his office desk, holding two glasses of whiskey in his hands and a very bold posture, and doesn't sit until I walk in and the door closes behind me.

Some black burning eyes stare at me from behind a pair of thin eyeglasses placed in a perfect fucking nose reigning a sharply cut face with a strong jaw that I can totally see is clenched although the smile tries something else.

"It's an honor to have the Don in my house. As you know, I've been a Don once in my younger years and I know well the type of visits Dons have. This... allow me to call it a constructive visit," he speaks and I swear, our stare feels like titans clashing.

I walk in and take a seat in front of him, grabbing one glass of whiskey from his hand and he follows suit, bringing both of us to the point of oozing dominance and cautious at the same time.

"I, on another hand, would like to call it deal closing. I believe you have something that is mine and you have it only because it has been stolen from me... Don Enzo," I speak.

He laughs and shakes his head throwing the booze down his throat.

"I haven't been called that for years now," he says in an attempt to smooth the tension between us.

"And still you run the games... and thefts."

"I heard that from the first time you said it over the phone. That deal was clean, paid, and closed. I don't know what you are talking about."

"Cut the crap! Who was it? Who dealt with you?" I roar impatiently to get to the bottom of it.

"Kid, you don't get to act like this in here. I don't steal, I do business. What fucking shit happens in your yard, if yours to deal with."

"Talking about kids..." I say.

"I know. And I have known your mother, Lucia, for many years."

"I'm not talking about my mother because I have no mother. I'm talking about my father... Mario Valentini."

The moment the name escapes my lips his eyes become dark like the skies in a tornado, his eyebrows frowning in a perfectly straight line with a deep wrinkle between and his jaw chewing nervously.

The shock, the horror in his brain screams of anger, and I happily devour his anguish.

"What the fuck did you say?!" he groans.

I throw the whiskey down my throat with the satisfaction of the devil shaking the earth and bend forward, throwing the empty glass on the desk and pinning my elbows on my knees.

"So you do remember my father."

"Kid, don't go there. Don't start something you don't know you can finish," he threatens and I believe him.

The man I have in front of me right now is the very legend I've heard unbelievable stories about, one that I could take as a model if he weren't my enemy already.

"I see you remem..." I try to be a bigger predator than he is but before I have the chance to finish my threat gunshot blast outside and a guy rushes into the office roaring.

"Security breach! Security breach!"

Benito's eyes dilate to impossible sizes and fix me like a weapon.

"Are they your fucking men?!" he asks.

"Not a chance!" I yell back and in a millisecond, he reaches under his desk and pulls out some machine guns, throwing one to me so fast that I haven't even had the chance to reach for my own gun.

"This should take you out!" he shouts.

He pisses me off! He fucking pisses me off with his savior attitude and I hesitate, which makes him grab me from my suit jacket and pull me to a back door.

"Kid, don't be stupid! This is not your war!" he keeps shouting but before I close the door behind me a bullet pierces his flesh and with last strength, he shuts the door in my face.

~~~~~
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