Wild One

Thirty-Two

Niccoló

I sigh, taking off my gloves. f**k that was messier than I thought it'd be.

"Angelo, get a team to clean this up, then deliver Manon from work to the East Estate."

I sigh, sitting down. There it was. One of my my chief corrupters, butchered on the floor. The smell of bleach, linoleum and copper blood mix to make an abhorrent odor.

I just wanna kill him again.

If it's one thing I can't stand it a rat. A traitor. I spit on his corpse as I walk away.

I shrug my suit jacket back on, slide my Platinium watch back on. I'll have to wipe off my rings.

Fucker got a little blood on it.

My phone rings as I walk out of the warehouse.

"Speak."

The line crackles a bit before his voice comes through, slow and sure.

"You know."

I smirk. "Course I know. You got some nerve, calling me."

He chuckled. "Nerve? I'm not scared of you, Niccoló Vitale."

"I like that about you," I muse, lighting up a cigar. "You and your wife seem to have that in common."

He says nothing for a moment. "She belongs to me. A man like you, could find someone else. Return her."

I snort, because that's just a damn lie. "She doesn't belong to you, boy. She never did. She's always been mine. You were just a rebound that went too far."

Another pause. I blow smoke from my mouth. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"That's my wife-

"If you wanted your wife you shouldn't have cheated on her. Especially when she wasn't really yours in the first place."

"So you insist on trying to take her?"

"How about this, you go. Find her. See if you can convince her to leave me."

"...So confident?"

"I'll let you in a little secret, boy. You can't lose what isn't yours. She isn't yours."

I hang up, and go about my damn business. This girl is trouble, goddamnit.

But damnit, I love it.