Blood Contract | Diavolo X Reader

7| An Issue

Diavolo turned around and punched his desk, nearly splintering its body. When he settled back his face was cloudy. Doppio could tell immediately, he was going into one of his declines. His brows came together; his lips pressed into a thin line.

The underboss shifted uncomfortably where he stood by his front door. He pretended not to notice the tan-suited someone relaxed in the corner, for they seemed to be the source of his irritation.

"I brought the reports you asked for, boss." He was hesitant to break the silence, something that almost seemed taboo in that moment, but he couldn't stand there forever.

Diavolo regarded him with narrow eyes, green staring at him through the slips in his pink hair. His stiff collar had wilted, his fine hands red and veined with anger, and the person in the corner continued to observe.

"What's your name, sir?"

Doppio let his unending wonder get the best of him, and his eyes nervously dawdled over to the stranger. They looked fake, almost. Like their smile had been painted on, their eyes dull and placid, like a doll.

If he had to guess, that was (Y/n). Going off of Diavolos description, it couldn't have been anyone else, "Unusually detached, producing a nervous, shivery apprehension." 

"Forgive me, I was told not to speak to you." But he continued to stare. Not like he could help it, they deserved that kind of respect. Their presence alone was enough to demand someone to set down their silverware, to pick their head from the floor.

(Y/n) continued to grin, like it was all they knew how to do, like being friendly was a requirement of them, not something to be just because. 

Their eyes slid over to Diavolo, in a slow, deliberate manner that nearly made Doppio's skin crawl. They waited.

His boss seemed fully aware that his guest was staring at him, vying for his attention. He threw his hand in a dismissive wave, and let it fall to the table in a defeated thump. 

"You see? You can talk to me." They said, turning back. "Now, what's your name?"

"Doppio," He replied with a rushed formality, "I'm terribly sorry if I interrupted something. I'll-- I can come back later."

"No, Mister Doppio, you came in at the perfect time. I want to ask something of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, of course. The man this buffoon trusts the most, who else could I rely on?"

Diavolo glowered at them, eyes darting past his brows as his hands folded against his forehead. "Now is not the time for jokes, you don't have a clue what's going through my head right now."

"All that's in your head is a monkey clapping cymbals."

Doppio stiffened. Just as he'd done countless other times, he waited for Diavolo to pull his gun from his jacket and violently silence them. When he didn't do that, he looked to Risotto, who he knew hid somewhere in the shadows of the room. Neither did a thing.

"Anyhow, I trust that you know of Diavolos daughter?" They continued. He could've sworn their smile had grown a little wider after their comment. 

Doppio kept his lips tight, looking to Diavolo for permission. Again, he made some vague gesture as he continued to stare into the waves of wood in his desk, absent.

"Yes, I know of her. I'm in charge of keeping an eye on her, more or less, when she's in his care."

"Wonderful. Then I'll have you know that an issue has come up. You see, we've intercepted plans made by a group hoping to take her for ransom, maybe more. It's been decided that she'll be relocated to my residency to keep her safe."

"Your...?" He'd hoped they jest, for how could some politician do anymore than a leader of a criminal empire?

He thinks his face betrayed him at some point, for (Y/n) seemed to catch on to his amused confusion.

"I live in penthouse. Everyone knows where it is, but no one will dare to step inside. She'll be safe there, with an entire room to herself and more. Everything she'll need will be at her disposal." They explained. "That goes for you too, since you'll be coming as well."

"What?"

"Do I need to repeat that?"

"No, sorry, I don't feel comfortable-"

Again, he looks at Diavolo for a guidance of any sort. He does not wave his hand. He does not give way for him to speak his mind. Doppio is quickly reminded that his voice is not his own. Work comes before comfort, and Diavolos word comes before his. 

Somehow, (Y/n) seems to know this. "You mean to say 'yes' don't you?"

He pulsed with discontent, and with no other choice, he nods. He nods, and he frowns, as they continue to leer at him in an almost mocking manner. Like a fisher who knows they have their catch stuck to their hook, but won't reel them in, savoring the struggle.

"That's simply delightful." Their voice didn't match their apparent enthusiasm. "I look forward to having you."