The Mafia King's Thief

Distrust

Alessio’s POV

If an award of ‘major d**k of the year’ was to be presented to major nominees every year, I’m one hundred percent sure I’d have received the award at least ten times–I’m not even exaggerating here. I’m a d**k in a ton of ways, and the good thing is that I’m admitting. At least I’m not out here, blatantly denying.

Anyway, I’m on an island in the middle of nowhere–according to people, but my location is not unknown to me. I just don't want to say it because this is the first time I will believe in jinxing things and I’m very aware that it sounds very petty, but this is the first time I’ll be putting myself first and doing what I want. I need at least a full twenty-four hours to just be laid back and chill. This is a side of me that I am yet to reveal to anyone. I, for one, am utterly shocked.

Anyway, let’s get back to what I was saying. Nobody must know my location. I do not know when I will go back to my reality, but I know that my mind needs to be calm before I move. It’s been like ten hours since I got here, meaning I have about fourteen hours left, at least to do whatever the f**k it is I want.

If I was questioned about what I’ll be doing five days ago in five days time, I’ll have said ‘running my empire’. That goes on to show the level of my spontaneity when I’m not running my empire, albeit for the last decade, I’ve been constantly running the crime world and that has sort of made me put my personal desires away for the success of the empire. Now is really a time for me to unwind because I’ll be walking back to reality very soon–a thought I do not want flittering around in my head, but I really do not have the control over such things.

I decide there and then that I’ll make whatever time I have left worthwhile. I’ll do something I really love. Something I haven’t done in ages. It’s not because I haven’t always wanted to do it, but I’ve been too occupied, doing things that need to be done.

I look around the island and get up before I proceed to the large building.

I have my bath, put on a tropical shirt and some shorts with a leather sandal and finish the whole look with a pair of sunglasses. I’ve never been one to stare at myself in the mirror. I just put on the clothes and get out of the room, but I take my time to look at myself in the mirror this time around. Satisfied with what I see, I unlock the door and walk out.

I do not know the way to where I’m going, but it is a public place that is visited by passionate people. I’m very sure that one wouldn’t be too far away.

I walk into the corridor and locate the elevator.

The s**t is halfway closed and so I run and push the button.

I get in there and I find a blonde with lips painted as red as blood. She takes a look at me and bites the f*****g lip I was just looking at and smiles at me. I make no move and neither does she. We remain in that position until I get to my destination and so does she. We were headed to the ground floor actually. The tension in that elevator made me regret and wish I took the stairs. It’s not as though I have problems with my limbs. A little exercise down the stairs wouldn’t have actually done anything.

I walk briskly out and the same woman is behind me, walking slowly, but making sure I don’t get out of her sight. I’m tempted to turn around and tell her to f**k off, but not every situation in life is handled by pulling a gun and pointing it at people–I’m not denying the fact that it’s been very fun to do so.

She’s still walking behind me even after I’ve left the perimeter of the residential building. Man, what the f**k can be going on?

I get into the street and she’s still behind me. I decide to say ‘f**k it’ and go on with walking to where I’m headed. For a minute, I forget that I do not know the exact location of the place and that’s all because of the blonde, walking behind me, but I’m back to my senses now.

I do a lot of walking, but when my thoughts are falling on different areas of my life in order of their importance, I decide to arch my neck up and I spot it. The library. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a good read.

One would think I’m a witless f**k since there are so many ways to read books without going to the library. There are electronic libraries everywhere, but that’s for the people that love it. I tried reading on a k****e once and gave up because that s**t is not meant for me. There is nothing enjoyable about it at all. I like the smell of books, the way they feel in your hands. I do not want to be staring at a screen and saying I am reading a book. That s**t gets on my damn nerves.

I get into the library, hypervigilance crossing the threshold of being high. It has in fact elevated way past that level.

I’m into things that have to do with mystery. Things that’ll keep me on my toes and have me asking ‘what the f**k?’ the entire time I’m reading the book.

There are a few that catch my eye, but I’m looking for a very good one. The saying of not judging a book by its cover isn’t a new one and it’ll be foolish of me to say it–even though I literally just said it. I haven't kept up with the news of literature releases in ages and so it’ll be very difficult for me to know what’s new.

There’s one that I’ve had my eyes on for the longest and I can’t really help myself when I walk toward where the dusty book is placed on the shelf. It looks as though nobody has laid hands on it in a while. It looks like a good book and even though I know not to judge from physical appearances, I still can’t help budge. Something keeps drawing me toward it and I cannot help myself. I pick it up and just immediately, someone slaps my hand.

There’s no need for me to stand on my tiptoes to look at whoever it is because I’m blessed in the height department.

The person is very bulky–heavier than me, in fact.

“Chi sapeva che un uomo come te ha fatto cazzate del genere?” He says to me, a sinister laughter flying out of his mouth and this happens to be one of the times I hate myself because I’m not armed and the probability of this fucker hurting me is high. Do not get me wrong, I can do a lot of impressive s**t without a weapon, but I do not know the number of people I’m facing and that gives him some sort of advantage over me.

Translation– Who knew a man like you did s**t like this?

He pulls out a gun, the fucker! He pulls the trigger, and I’m grateful that I’m able to dodge it. Someone screams so f*****g loudly behind me and I do not even need to turn around to know that it’s the blonde that was following me. Life is so messed up. You work for someone and still end up being dead in the end. This goes on to explain why people like myself are so f*****g cynical.