The Mafia King's Thief

Elayne's Pov Tomorrow is August 1st. That means I turn twenty-eight. I’m getting old, I know. Yesterday I was eighteen, and it’s already been ten f*****g years. If I could go back in time to relive all those years, I wouldn’t change anything. It’s high time I did away with the story no one was interested in listening to, and went to the interesting part of it. It’s 10pm, and I’m on the plane, about to embark on what I would say is the scariest journey I’ve ever set about. Am I scared? Probably a wee bit, but I like a challenge. Adventurous people have always been known to be the one smiling at the end of the day. Sometimes, you gotta take the bull by the horn, you know. I just got off the plane with Makayla, and she said everything is good, and so I can put my mind at rest.What I would do for the duration of the flight wasn’t something I’d thought about before this minute, and now that I did think about it, there is no denying the fact that I’m not perfect. Yes, I know that sounds completely lame, but in the past we’ve all heard people say that no one is perfect, and I always rolled my eyes anytime the statement was made. It would be too early to go into all of the details, but I can’t deceive myself any longer. I’d have continued from where I left off in the anime I’m currently watching, but the excitement of what is happening in the next twenty-four hours, or more, or less is biting me so much in the stomach that it is hard to have my attention on anything. When I stare at my screen for over twenty minutes, completely unaware of what is going on because my mind has wandered, I know it is time to watch some ASMR, and get some sleep. In all honesty, I’d be needing a lot of that, and not some. I put on my sleep mask with my wireless earphones in,and the goodness of autonomous sensory meridian response helped me to get the rest I so much desire. Italy, here I come. ❦ I don’t know what time it is, but the next time I’m up, we’re all being informed that we’re landing, and lastly but definitely not leastly, it’s my f*****g birthday. It all happened too quickly: the landing, the deboarding of passengers, my getting a cab, and now it’s moving. This feels like it isn’t even happening — not my travelling to Italy, eww. Why would I be happy because I’m going to Italy? I’m quite certain that a nineteen year old me would jump until she’s out of breath. I’m excited for the fact that I’ve heard a million times how dangerous and life threatening my plans are, and I’m still sure I want to go on with it. Many would say it’s my horoscope, but save me all of that bullshit. I’ve never been one to believe astrological signs. Isn’t it outrageous to believe that everyone born from one time to another has the same sense of reasoning, behaviour, and character traits because of their horoscope? I would need a lot more explanation to believe that. On to the next, please. My phone vibrates in my lap, and when I look at the screen, I see a direct message on i********: from Kayla asking me if I’ve landed. Shit. I promised I would shoot her a text the moment I land, and it’s been thirty minus since I did landed. So much for keeping a promise. Without letting a second pass, I begin to type. El234 : I just landed. I was about to text you. I hit send. Kayla93 : You’ve forgotten I’m tracking your phone. Looks to me like you’re in a cab, and not at the airport. I roll my eyes. So much for lying. I throw my phone to the other end of the backseat, not planning on responding. “So, this is your first time in Italy?” The cab driver’s words cut through my thoughts. Since I got in, I haven’t even taken a good look at his face. I stare at the rear view mirror to see that he looks about two to three years younger than me. Nope, not interested. “Not the chatty type, I see.” I bite my lower lip, look in the mirror for the second time, making sure we have eye contact this time around before looking out the window. I’m a savage, I know. He’s cute, though. I’m still not interested in talking to little boys. I’m at the hotel, comfortably pulling the handle of my suitcase since I didn’t carry too much stuff. My plan isn’t to stay for a week or more. I’d leave once I’m done here after tomorrow night. It’s 6 o’clock, and I’m hungry. We were served on the plane, but excitement wouldn’t let me eat. Now that I’m calm, I think it’s time to fill my stomach since I have a long day ahead. I order caprese salad with pesto sauce because I do not feel like eating pizza or pasta. The food is nice, though. I gotta admit. It is necessary that I get an international sim card today since it enables me to speak with Makayla who is in the States. I would also like to visit the gym before engaging in the long phone call. It isn’t something of utmost importance. ❦ “I thought you were not going to call me.” “Shut up.” I say, sitting in bed at noon with a wine glass in my hand, and a towel tied around my hair. I was able to get a new sim, and also go to the gym. “Now listen, you have to have your earpiece turned on at all times. I know you’d say you can do this s**t yourself, but b***h it is too risky. You get cut, your head is on the floor, separated from all parts of your body. You gotta pay attention to everything I saw. You can even record the call if you think your memory would fail you at some point.” The urge to tell her to shut the f**k up, and get down to it is heightening by the second, but I refuse to sucumb. I need patience —something I’m not used to, but I gotta pretend. “I don’t need to write s**t down. I have ears.” “Stubborn ass bitch.” She mutters, causing me to give her the middle finger — it isn’t as though she can see me. “Anyway, once you make it to the estate, let me know, I’d put you through how to get in. This one wouldn’t be as easy as the others.” “Mikayla, this is something you should have just said. It’s not that deep, you know. It’s not like I’m trying to break into hell.” “This is worse than hell.” She says. I can hear her munch on something as she speaks. It is most likely jelly. I pray she gets diabetes before she turns thirty-five - - - I've said it to her a couple times, and all she does is shrug. She doesn't give to f***s about her life. "I guess I don't have anything to say." On that note, I end the call. I'm all over the internet, trying to get pictures of where I'm going. I should at least have the slightest of ideas about the place. I'm betrayed by the internet because nothing even pops up. In as much as she's a b***h, I have to admit that Mikayla is a genius. How she hacked into the security system of a f*****g mob boss has me startled. I could never. Alessio Fiorentino is no news to anyone, but why can't I at least get a glimpse of him. The man limpidly doesn't want his business on a platform everyone can access. People say he's a demon, but how demonic can he be? Please, I've seen worse since my career launched, and I'm still here, breathing, and ready to take on another adventure. How bad can it get? I stare at the clock, and see that two hours have passed after noon, and I doubt there's ever been a time I wanted to fly so bad. I still have a couple of hours till I'm at it. I get up from where I'm seated on the bed to avoid sleeping. It really isn't the time for that. I decided to take pictures, and make videos until my brain clicks on something worthwhile to do. If I had a boyfriend, I'd send him these, but a girl is too busy to think of relationships. I cackle at how lonely and f****d up my love life is before deciding to put on my sunglasses, bikini, and go out and stay by the pool for a little bit. Of course the hotel had to have a pool. I'm a five-star b***h for f**k's sake. Operation time to get the hell out of here. It is three hours until midnight. I ordered a ride earlier, and spoke to the driver. He said he will be here soon. "Mic check." Mikayla's vexatious voice can be heard through the device I have in my ear. I cannot help, but groan. If she keeps doing all of the exasperating things she does out of the blue, I'd be forced to throw out what I have in my ear, and crush it with my shoes, but I will be screwed if I do that. "I can hear you." I let her know as I arrange everything I'd be needing in the napsack—laughable, I know. It is the only form of accessory I can bring along with me that would accommodate all I need to take. I don't need much though since I'm hoping that I won't be there for too long. I want to go in there for too long. "Do not forget to inform me when you get to the estate. I'll instruct you from there till you get out." She says as though she hasn't already said it a dozen times. The driver of the ride drops me in front of the Fiorentino estate, and anxiety washes over me, my legs turning weak all of a sudden. I want to turn around, and go back to the hotel or a club, and just have a normal birthday celebration. I do not have to do this to myself. I know full well that this can either make me or break me. It's never been the latter, and I beg the heavens that it wouldn't change this time around. Summoning some courage, I whisper to her that I'm there. "Walk straight. He resides in the last villa in the estate." I obey her, tugging on the arm of the handle of my napsack. I follow all of her instructions, and get past all of the sentinels, and before I know it. I'm in the villa of the almighty Alessio Fiorentino. God, I'm shivering like a fish that was brought out of its habitat. Mikayla really did her homework. I'm now at the entrance of the corridor, and I have to find a way to get past the tons of sentinels there. I can't fight for s**t, but I can steal their attention for a few seconds so I scream so loudly, and do my best at hiding in a corner. They all rush past me, none of them even spotting me. Jesus Christ. There are five rooms on each side of the corridor. The room I'm supposed to be in is the third one on the right. "Pass code." I whisper, and she calls it out for me while I punch the numbers. I'm finally inside and I spot the large security safe that requires Alessio Fiorentino's fingerprint before it opens. Not to worry, though. I'm always ready for things like this. I dip my hand in the bag, and when I hear footsteps, I know it's over for me. I'm not even armed. What the f**k was I thinking. I freeze. "Ladro," The man behind me says. I'm so tempted to tell him to speak English, but that would be half-witted of me. It's dumb enough that I came here without anything to protect myself. Translation - Thief "Elayne?" I can hear Mikayla's voice over the device, but I can't for the life of me respond to her. This man behind me can kill me. I may not even know what he looks like before blood is oozing from me. God, please do not let that happen. The man behind me is saying some things in Italian. I guess he's speaking to someone on the phone. I feel his rough hands on my arms. He turns me around and leads me out of the room, my knapsack hanging loosely on my body. My brain cannot really process anything currently, but I'm scared they are taking me to the slaughterhouse to get my head off of my body so that their boss can use my skull to drink water. I'm so scared I may cry. We get down the stairs, and on the first door of that corridor, he punches some numbers, the door slides open, and I see a scary man in a suit seated on a leather chair, two men behind him. The all have this look on their faces "Questo è il ladro." He said to the big man seated on the chair. Translation - This is the thief Now is a good time to tell them I do not speak Italian. "I don't speak Italian, I'm sorry." I say, looking around. The scariest of them all has this look on his face. It isn't anger, no. It is shock.