Wild One

Nineteen

Niccolo

I bite my lip, forcing back a smile, head bowed as I walk away.

She's so... scintillating. Damn that woman. My fascination has developed into a craving. A craving I cannot curb. I want her.

Manon is the embodiment of grey. She's the shade I've lived in my whole life. She has principles, she has morals, and yet there's something so baseless about her.

Something so...immoral, so lewd even when she's smiling sweetly. Even when she's looking down in nervousness something about her rings sinfully.

I want to delve into her mind. I want to peer into her soul. What does she want? What does she need? What does she crave? What keeps her up at night?

I do know one thing: She wants me. I intrigue her, I think. She knows I'm not a good man, and she likes it that way.

She wants to dabble with the flames, watch it flicker, make it dance.

I want to devour her whole—I want her mind, I want her soul, I want her heart.

I want to destroy her. But not completely. I don't want her broken. I want her shattered, in the best way, begging me to burn her again, and again, and again...

Until there's nothing left.

***

Had business down in one of my casinos in the heart of Detroit. I walk into the building purposefully, my suit perfectly pressed.

Sitting at the Blackjack, I observe the players. The Gambino operate here mostly, they hold a large portion of New York.

“Sir, you playing?”

I shake my head no. I can't cheat gambling fools if I am one.

Not properly anyway.

“Okay, then, I'll take your bets.”

I found the man I wanted to see.

Charles Bowden. He bets high. Either he's hoping for good luck, or he has money to spare.

Looking at his attire I'd guess it was the latter.

Charles Bowden. I smirk, looking at him through my lashes. I knew that name was familiar.

Now I know why.

I signal Angelo. Not only seconds later, Charles is handed a note from a passing waiter. The note is from the waitress he's been eyeing all evening, asking him to go up to a private room.

Where I will be waiting for him.

I excuse myself from the table as his eyes trail the lines of the note. He looks up, and when he doesn't see the waitress he grinned.

Got em.

He took the bait like a damn sucker. And here I was hoping for a challenge.

I walk upstairs accompanied by my second Angelo. Hair flops in my eye. I blow it away, rueing the fact i need a haircut. Again.

She grows to fast.

I sit in the soundproof room. Bored, I pick up the box of Cuban Cigars that I keep here, but rarely smoke.

I smell it, examining it. Angelo silently flops open a lighter, offering me a light. I take it. What's taking pretty boy so long, anyway?

“I'm here, gorgeous.”

I smirk. “Oh Darling,” I say sarcastically, “I was so worried.”

Charles frowned, turning around to leave the room. I snap, making the doors audibly lock.

Charles doesn't seem too happy about that fact.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," I start, very Mob Boss-esque, if I do say so myself. “Have a seat," I motion.

“No, thanks."

Angelo comes behind him, forcing him into the chair. “The boss said, have a seat. It's rude to refuse.”

“Thank you, Angelo. Very goon like of you.”

He grins childishly. “Thanks, boss. I've been working on it.”

“Why am I here?” Charlie demands impatiently.

I set the lit cigar down, putting out the fire.

“You're here to meet Shelia the waitress.”

He grins.

Sheila emerges from the darkness like the true creep she is.

“Shelia's gonna break your kneecaps.”

His grin dies.

“W-What?”

I don't bother repeating. It won't sound better the second time.

“Listen, I don't like this any more than you do,” I explain, “This kneecap business, it's messy, I don't like messes, si? But you stole from me. So...enjoy your date with Sheila.”

“W-wait! I—I don't even know you! I didn't steal from you!”

“You saying I'm a liar?”

He turns white. “N-No!”

I smirk. “That's too bad. I am a liar, and I like honest people. Break his thumb too. I feel slighted.”

“Who are you?!”

I squat in front of him. “Due possono mantenere un segreto, solo se uno è morto,” I say. “You know that means?”

He shook his head.

“Two can keep a secret, only if one is dead. And between the two of us, I pick you. Still wanna know? Or do you wanna leave alive?”

“I pick Alive, for two hundred Alex.”

I grin, patting his face harshly. “You're silly. I like that. Don't break his thumb.”

Leaving the room, I adjust my suit. I might have some time to go see Manon.