"Where's this place?" You asked, swaying your legs as you sat on the kitchen island.

"A three hour drive from here. We have another mansion and a farmhouse in that region," Shubman answered, feeding you a spoonful of ice cream from the bowl. "I usually take Ishan or Shahneel di with me. But it's been so long since I took you out."

Plus, he didn't want to be away from you for too long.

"Tell me more about this event," you said as he pushed your knees apart and stood in between your legs.

"It's like a gala," he started while feeding you another spoon of the solid philtre of your life. After him, of course. "Twice in a year, everyone in the country who's leading the organization will meet up."

Once the ice cream was finished, he placed the bowl aside and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"This one's just a friendly socializing event. Moreover, it's the birthday party for the Godfather. Greatest in our country's history and in 1983, he became the first person to win deals and trades over other countries. He's retired but his words are still as powerful."

"Do you have a rank system?" You asked, curious as your own arms wrapped around his neck.

"It's about keeping the score," Shubman said and you thought for a moment about what 'keeping the score' meant before nodding.

That probably meant coordination, control over their territory and conflicts, capacity to fight repression, high profile dealings and murders, having elite assassins and snipers, everything relating to violence, money and their reputation with regards to how infamous they are.

Just a little exposure.

"And you could say the same about him, known to be the Master Blaster, retired as well. He's considered as one of the greatest mafia leaders of all time," he continued, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Master Blaster? Was he good with blasting people?" You asked, making the gesture of a gun firing and earned a nod in response.

"It's names people give us based on our renown," Shubman explained. "Just to name a few, we have Hitman, King, and Captain Cool who's known for staying composed even with a fully loaded gun pointed at the back of his head."

"You people are really interesting," you noted as he placed another kiss on the tip of your nose. "And they call you the Prince. Sure, you're elegant. I'll give you that much."

"That's enough for me," he smiled and pecked your lips.

"All this information would be useful if I was a spy," you said as he pulled away. "So what about the other event?"

"Well, it takes place between March and May," Shubman said as you moved closer to him while still sitting on the counter. "Everyone who's a major part of the organization gathers to discuss international dealings and internal conflicts. It's purely business."

You just nodded before asking him another question. "How exactly did you end up here?"

"In your arms?" He asked and you shook your head as no.

"In this field of work," you said as he tugged a strand of hair behind your ear.

"My dad used to work for a mafia boss, a small-timer, just for base wage in our hometown," Shubman narrated. "He never wanted me or di to be ordered around by someone else like it was done to him, so I thought this was the way."

You hummed a little in acknowledgement as he continued.

"Ishan's father worked there too so we chanced upon each other in a ground while playing cricket for the same neighborhood," he said while his hands moved to hold your waist. "We were 15 and since then we have become inseparable."

"You play cricket?" You asked at the revelation.

"A lot, when Ishan and I were young. We were good at it too," he smiled as you watched him with pure excitement. "We loved it so much that we'd have worked to become cricketers under different circumstances."

Shubman swerved to this path when he was 18.

He still remembers that day when Ishan held that mafia boss by his neck from behind as he shot him in his chest, then his head.

With the man's own gun in broad daylight, in front of all the people that ever feared him.

That day, they watched life leave someone's eyes for the first time. And it hasn't stopped ever since.

Within another twenty four hours, they stabbed his twenty five year old son in a dark alleyway, making sure that no one else in his bloodline remained.

This was for his father, he told himself. For all the years he watched him suffer helplessly.

"And di is just stowaway," Shubman said loudly.

"I can hear you, Shubman my-sister-raised-me-better Gill," Shahneel answered loudly too, from the dining room where you both couldn't see.

In truth, the siblings have always shared a close and emotional bond.

They're deeply connected to each other. Distance makes them feel easily hurt and vulnerable.

Never having spent a day apart, they were always attached by the hip that people thought they were twins.

Shubman only laughed a little with you, admiring the way your eyes lit up before he leaned in for a kiss.

"Y/n, how does this design look- Oh, sh!t! Sorry! I didn't see anything," his sister stormed out of the kitchen with her palm covering her eyes.

You pulled away from Shubman's lips and hid your face in his chest, wishing that you were invisible for a few minutes.

"Di, you could make some noise before barging in," he said loud enough for her to hear, a little frustrated at the abrupt end of the kiss.

"I can't even talk to my sister-in-law and roam around this house in peace," she said back, clearly audible from the dining room again.

Yeah, Shahneel really needed to work on her timing.