As soon as I step foot out of the headquarters for my business in London, dozens of cameras flash at me. Not even a second later though, my guards manage to back the press and paparazzi away.

I just finished a meeting. One with Cartier as they would like to do some sort of collab. I have no idea how the press got a hold of it, but now they are asking lots of questions.

"Thoughts on collaborating with Van Cleef once more, Mr. Alvera?"

I did a collection with them once. Safe to say the people loved it. The thing is, all the collaborations I do are limited. Only a few can get their hands on them and I only do them once.

I don't even respond while my guards tell them I'm not taking any questions. This feels almost cringe. I sometimes forget I'm a CEO, to be honest.

I get into the black limo waiting for me and immediately tell the driver to head to the base. All these flashing cameras and people yelling over each other isn't my thing.

Just as I thought I would be able to get a moment of peace, my phone rings. I let out a sigh when I see that it's Pietro, hoping it's not some random bullshit.

"This better be important," I utter before he can get a word in. I like having time alone. It's peaceful. The parties and events are stuff I have to participate in as a CEO and leader of the mafia. Not stuff I would like to do.

"The warehouse," he scoffs, almost like he's in disbelief. "Niccolo I have no idea how the cops, feds, government whoever the fuck it was found out about the supplies we have in there but they infiltrated it."

My jaw locks in frustration. You've got to be fucking kidding me. "Did they manage to take some of our men?" I ask through my gritted teeth.

"Trained well, they noticed something was up and were able to drive off before the agents got to them. Thank fucking God they didn't start unloading the weapons," he explains and I let out a sigh of relief.

"But," he adds, and all that relief I had washed away. "There were already all sorts of weapons and cars in that warehouse that are now seized."

"So we have a fucking mole," I chuckle dryly, pissed at the idea that this is even happening right now.

"I was asking everyone who was there questions, they all said the same thing," he states. "That Ricky has been talking about wanting to leave the mafia. He might not be the mole but we might as well question him."

I don't even know who the fuck Ricky is.

"Let's not be stupid though. We haven't had a mole, suddenly Azaría joins and we have one?" I scoff.

"I'll get guards to keep an eye on her," he replies. It can't be a fucking coincidence, c'mon.

"Get Rich or Rick, whatever his name is, in the basement and wait for me. Fifteen minutes out," I tell him and hang up.

Running my hand through my hair in frustration, I call Azaría. After a few rings, she picks up.

"My men are coming to pick you up, be ready in five," is all I say before ending the call.

I really cannot be bothered with this shit.

Now I need to figure out who this guy is, his family, and anything I can use as leverage.



As I step out of the limo, I see a black car driving up the fountain and watch as two of my men step out along with Azaría who is blindfolded.

She takes it off -more like rips it off- and looks pissed. "Are you serious?" she huffs and she walks up to me.

"I don't trust you to know where the location of the mafia base is," I state simply, walking up the stairs to where the large doors are. "Matter of fact, I don't trust you at all."

"And why is that?" she chuckles. "I've done hundreds of jobs for you and you never seemed to have trust issues back then, is it commitment issues, Alvera?"

The guards open the doors for us and we step in. I glance at her to see her mouth drop at the place. She's gonna be annoyed when she finds out I designed it.

When I was younger, I took a liking to architecture. Of course, I couldn't pursue it since the mafia and the company got handed down to me.

It was something I think I actually loved. Even though I couldn't go into architecture, I did some stuff here and there. One of them being this building.

"I don't know, Azaría. Maybe you can tell me why we suddenly have a mole right when you decide to work for me?" I question.

"What mole?" she furrows her brows. "What are you even talking about?" If she's an actor, she's a damn good one.

I raise my hand to scan it on the wall and once I do, the elevator doors open. "I don't know how you did it, it's impressive," I say as we both step in.

"Can I get some context here?" she sighs, the frustration evident in her voice. If she wants to act like that then fine.

"A warehouse of mine got infiltrated by the government," I tell her and her brows raise in shock. "You wouldn't know anything about that, yeah?"

She winces, "That sounds like a really bad problem for you, doesn't it?"

My jaw ticks at her words, as if it's the time to be sarcastic. "Sorry, Alvera but I'm just as clueless as you," she shrugs.

The elevator doors open to the basement and I step out. She looks hesitant but follows suit. "You guys got an evil lair or something," I hear her mutter under her breath.

Ignoring her comment, I nod my head at Pietro who opens one of the interrogation rooms, letting us in.

The guy trapped in the chair looks to be in his thirties, he has blonde, messy hair and all the colour that was once in his face is now drained when he meets my eyes. "B-boss.. what is going on here?"

"This, Azaría, is Ricky," I say with a smirk on my face as I place my hand on his shoulder.

"Now, a few little birdies have told me that you've been speaking about leaving the mafia, and then... somehow agents found out about the Mayshore Warehouse, the warehouse that you worked in."

His mouth drops at my words and he lets out shaky breaths. "No-no!" he manages to mumble out. "Why would I want to leave?"

"You tell me that," I reply encouragingly, tightening my grip that I have on his shoulder. He winces at the pain and water builds up in his eyes. Pathetic.

"Don't lie, Ricky," Pietro speaks up, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall.

I glance over at Azaría who has her jaw locked. Her eyes meet mine but she doesn't dare look away, almost as if she's challenging me.

I narrow my eyes, tilting my head slightly. My lips tilt up to a slight smile once she rolls her eyes and looks away.

My focus is now back on Ricky, who's practically pissing his pants right now yet he's not willing to speak up.

"Right," I sigh. "It's either you tell us or your wife and son are gonna be wishing you did while they're six feet under."

His eyes widen in shock and he lets out a. shaky breath. "Please... p-please don't hurt them, boss."

"That's your choice, Ricky Rick," I tell him. "Can I call you Ricky Rick? See I think we can be good friends if you just try to help me figure out what happened."

He smiles slightly and nods his head. "I'll tell you everything I know, boss. Thank you for this second chance."

I nod my head reassuringly and take a step back, standing beside Azaría. She looks up at me for a split second before her attention goes back to Ricky.

"I-I'm sorry but yes, I was planning on leaving," he admits. "An agent came onto my doorstep offering me a way out if I met with him today. B-but I didn't boss! I have no idea who he knew about the new supply to the warehouse and I can assure you it wasn't from me!"

"Ah, Ricky, it's okay," I sigh and his eyes light up in relief. "What did this agent look like? Did you get a name?"

"No, um no. But he was old, white-ish hair and blue eyes," he mutters out. Pietro and I immediately lock eyes.

"Mr. Arthur?" he mouths to me and I nod my head.

"So can you let me out now?" he questions and I nod my head with a small smile.

My hand reaches for the gun tucked into the inside of my suit. "Out of this mafia? Yes, sure Ricky, sure."

With one swift move, I pull the gun out and a bullet goes right through his chest. Second chances my ass.

To be fair, I did him a favour. He wanted to be out of the mafia, no? I just did what he asked for.

Azaría takes a step back and blood splutters on her. "What the fuck," she mumbles, wiping the blood that got on her arm.

It's some blood on her clothes, she's acting like she's not an assassin but a spoiled princess.

"This was my favourite top but thank you, Niccolo. Thank you very much," she scoffs.

"This is what happens to snitches or anyone who even thinks about it," I tell her, pointing my gun at the lifeless body in front of me. "You've got that, princess?"

"As if I was your stupid snitch anyway," she huffs, crossing her arms. It's a warning to if she even thinks about it.

"Get her upstairs and take her back home," I order a guard standing outside and he nods his head. She doesn't waste any time leaving the room, not bothering to wait for him.

One thing I absolutely fucking despise are snitches. They get what they deserve.

Actually, I think I might actually hate Mr. Arthur more. He's a pain in my ass. He's old as fuck and he's still not leaving me alone. At this point go relax at some retirement home.

He's spent almost a decade of his career at MI6 trying to take the Italian mafia down. He's never succeeded and it's embarrassing.

He's getting close but he always gets close and still never manages to nail me onto anything criminal.

We'll just have to see what happens this time.

"You think she got the message?" Pietro asked, staring at the dead body in front of him.

"If she's smart then yes," I reply, rubbing my hand on my forehead as a headache starts to form.

"I never really liked him," Pietro shrugs. I even know him so I don't have much to say except he's a snitch.

We walk out of the room but before we can make it down the hallway, one of my guards stops us. "Stefan and Gia are waiting for you guys," she informs me. "They say it's important."

Oh, bloody hell. Today is going to be long.

Pietro nods his head and thanks her before turning to me. "I really wanted to relax and watch the football game tonight," he huffs.

Well, now he's fire sure jinxed it. Great.



damn so he a lil loco.. niccolo loco... (that did not eat like i wanted it to)

ANYWAYYDSY as usual, opinions on this chapter and vote plslslsl !! sorry for the short chapter though😓

word count | 1980