Omertà ✔️

c h a p t e r - o n e

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆☽Ⓛ❈Ⓒ☾⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

POV: LUCCA

"Is he ever going to show up? I'm freezing my ass off here."

Marcello's grumbling falls on deaf ears as I absentmindedly spin my gun. I'm leaning against the wall, bored out of my mind. I have a party to attend. There are definitely better places I could be than this deserted warehouse downtown.

Suddenly, the glow of car headlights sweeps across the open warehouse door.

"Finally," Marcello mutters under his breath.

The car engine dies and doors slam shut. Rocco, my right-hand man, and Valerius drag a beaten man towards us. They toss him onto the ground and he scrambles to his knees. He's a bloody mess, but I'm more annoyed that he's still breathing.

"Why is this guy still alive?" I ask, irritated.

Rocco shrugs. "Thought you might want to do the honors, Boss."

Marcello snorts. "Kiss ass," he mutters in Italian.

Rocco shoots him a glare. "Screw you," he retorts in the same language.

I push off the wall, groaning. "Jesus, you're both coglioni," I say, using the Italian slang for testicles.

They were supposed to pick me up after getting rid of this guy. He works for the Russian mob and he made the mistake of dealing on my territory. He should have known better. Marcello and I had handled the local dealer that was supplying him and these two were supposed to be here, without the Russian, thirty minutes ago. I hate lateness. I raise my gun and shoot the man between the eyes before he can even beg for mercy. I hate begging too.

"Get rid of him. I'm taking the car; find your own ride. I have a party to attend and I'm late," I tell them, my gaze pointed.

I stride out of the building. Marcello and Valerius stay behind to deal with the body while Rocco rushes ahead to get in the driver's seat. I slide into the car and clean my gun. I check my suit, ensuring it's still pristine. Appearance is important to me.

"Thanks, I needed that," I tell Rocco, rolling my neck.

Nothing like a quick execution to kick off a celebration. I could use a drink.

***

POV: Illaria

"Holy crap, how much money does your family have?" I exclaim, staring at the massive stone lions lining the driveway.

Georgina rolls her eyes and sighs. "Stop staring. You knew I was rich when we became friends," she says, and I scoff.

"Not this rich. This is crazy."

Who needs this many stone lions?

I close my mouth, which had been hanging open. The party at the nightclub owned by Georgina's parents is already in full swing. We're a bit late. Calling it a nightclub doesn't do it justice. I've never seen a club with a driveway. It's more like a mansion.

I've never been to the club before, mainly because the cover charge is more than I usually spend on drinks in a night. My night would be over before it even began. Georgina's parents are throwing a party for their business associates tonight. They wanted their only daughter there, and Georgie had one condition; she could bring me as her date.

We've been friends since high school, nearly ten years. We're both nineteen and as close as we were back then. In two weeks, she's leaving for college, and I'll be alone. I try not to think about it too much. It's going to suck.

You might be wondering how a regular person like me became friends with someone so rich. I got a scholarship to a prestigious private school. Turns out I'm pretty smart when I apply myself. But it meant I was the poorest kid in a school full of rich kids. It was a weird experience, but I had good friends. Not all rich kids are snobs.

The only times it's a problem are at birthdays and Christmas. I can never match the gifts Georgie gives me. I've told her many times not to spend so much on me, but she never listens.

She's the reason I have a suitable dress for tonight. She bought it for my eighteenth birthday last year. It's designer (she'd kill me if she knew I didn't know or care which one) and is very short and revealing. It's a party, in a nightclub, where I don't know anyone, so I feel confident enough to wear it. I only have one year left of being a teenager, so I'm ready to make some reckless decisions and silly mistakes tonight.

"Let's go get some drinks," Georgina suggests, grabbing my hand.

She leads us to the long bar with neon up-lighting. The bartenders notice the owner's daughter and immediately come to take our order. Everyone else has to wait in line.

What must it be like to live like this all the time? To be so rich that people literally run to serve you.

I only experience the rich life a few times a year, and it blows my mind each time. But it's enough for me. I wouldn't want this life permanently.

We clink our cosmos together and take a sip. I scan the crowd, looking for attractive men. It's been almost a year since I last slept with a guy. I've been celibate for way too long according to Georgina, but she understands why. My ex was a jerk. He seemed perfect at first, but the cracks showed up real fast. I got burned and it's left me feeling very protective over my little heart. I would love to fall in love again, but I need to know that it's with a good guy, one who will look after my heart, not hurt it.

This is the perfect place to find someone attractive for a night of no-strings-attached fun. Nightclubs are usually good places to find a hook-up, but this place is a serious upgrade from the clubs I usually visit. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll find someone ambitious and able to hold a decent conversation, instead of the lazy losers that hang out at my usual spots.

Georgina catches me looking and tuts at me. "Illaria Laura Dupont, remember what I said. These are my father's business associates."

I press my lips together and nod. She's warned me many times about getting involved with her father's colleagues. He has ties to the mafia. It's not talked about in her house, but Georgina isn't stupid. She knows what goes on behind closed doors. There's a reason her dad is so rich.

"These men are dangerous. Stay away from them. If you really have to get involved, keep it to one night," she whispers in my ear.

I heed her warning because I believe her. All of the men in this room have beautiful women on their arms who are much younger than them. Some women are only attracted to wealth, and it seems all of them are in this room.

From movies, I can spot a mafia guy a mile away. They're all wearing suits that probably cost more than my rent. They all look and smell rich. But more than that, most of them have tattoos peeking over their collars, in their hair, on their hands. That small detail, ink on the skin, changes the room from business associates to badass ones. You rarely hear of clean-cut CEOs being covered in tattoos.

Most of them look Italian, which makes me think that's where Georgina's dad's connections are. The Italian mob. It's a stereotype, but it makes sense.

There's a strange sense of danger surrounding everyone in this room. Something dark in their eyes promises trouble, and not the good kind. They look like they could snap your neck in a second without batting an eye.

It's terrifying and exciting at the same time. I feel relatively safe, knowing they won't be interested in me. I'm not after their money or business. I'm no threat to them. Hopefully, being Georgina's friend offers some sort of protection.

"So, just one night of fun, right?" I confirm with Georgie, and she nods.

She smiles at me and clinks our glasses together. "Let's go man-hunting, girl," she says.

***