Episode 2

"Señor."Said Di Marco's subordinate as he entered the office.

The place exuded elegance from the smallest detail in the decor to the enormous two-story ceiling with a chandelier with white lights. The furniture was new and in neutral colors. Wherever he looked, the word elegance was written.

The scent of Royal Courtesan permeated every corner of the room, mixing with the scent of bergamot from the air freshener. The ice in his whisky tinkled as it melted and slid over each other, echoing in the silent office.

"Elio Mancini, he is a 19-year-old young man, born in the year 2002, July 26th."

It was the first information the young boss Di Marco received from his subordinate. He continued reading that report, which, by the way, was nothing more than a letter-sized page.

"He turns twenty in three months."

"That's correct, sir."

Vicenzo kept reading.

According to the file that was handed to him, Elio lived only with his mother and siblings, his father had died from a supposed alcohol overdose five years ago, the man was found outside a dive bar, his body purple and next to him was a bottle of adulterated beer.

Elio was the fourth of five children, with two sisters and two brothers. "A large family," he thought.

He continued reading while taking a puff on the cigar in his left hand. Elio turned out to be good in his studies. He had remained at the top since childhood, through high school, and had graduated just a few months ago.

His mother had worked for several years with the Mandeli family. She seemed to be an important person in that family, he remembered Luigi Mandeli talking to him about a very trusted maid, she had even accompanied his godfather to close some important deals, perhaps he had seen her one day, however, he did not remember her face.

However, before his father's death, there seemed to be no information about them. There was nothing about his grandparents, city of origin, relatives living in the same city, or anything of the sort. Vicenzo felt even more curiosity about Elio Mancini.

...----------------...

"Young Vicenzo sent one of his subordinates to investigate a young man who works with Mr. Luigi Mandeli in his notary," reported Marcello Cavalli, Gabriele Di Marco's right-hand man.

"Follow him, tell me where he goes after work, what he does, who his friends are, what he likes, what he dislikes, investigate his family, his background, his blood type... I want everything about that boy."

"Yes, sir."

"What kind of people are you dealing with, Vicent?"

Grandfather Gabriele, who by then enjoyed stable health, was very concerned about his only grandson. He had already allowed him to do things on his own once and the consequences were fatal, although Vicenzo still did not accept it. Now, he had to make sure that his grandson made a good choice.

...----------------...

After that day, the two mafia bosses focused their attention on that young man.

Elio was young, but not stupid. He had noticed that he had been followed for a couple of weeks.

At first, he thought they were following his brother. Carlo Mancini was a journalist who covered crime and politics, he had made many enemies since he decided to expose the affairs of a supreme court judge. However, that idea was discarded when he saw people behind him on weekends or after his self-defense classes.

However, he didn't know who they were or what they were looking for. He suspected his aunts, they were the only ones who could do something as low as stalking, and if it was them, he was not going to flee. He wanted to be able to avenge his father's death.

Although the case was closed and the coroners said it was an overdose, neither he nor his sister believed it to be true.

"I'll go home alone, brother, you don't have to come get me."

Elio was determined to confront those bastards who had been following him those days.

It was half past six in the evening when he left his job, the sun wasn't good in those days and at that time it was almost hidden. He discreetly walked towards the place he had planned.

He noticed three presences behind him. He continued to a alley to ambush them. He was a little faster than the one following him. He hid and waited for that guy to pass by.

He made sure there was no one else around and came out of hiding. He walked behind the guy and took him by surprise.

"Did you lose something?" he asked as he emerged from behind a trash container.

That guy grunted, annoyed, his expression changing to a worried one. Elio stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for an answer that never came.

"Oh," he exclaimed mockingly, "you'll know soon enough."

As soon as the guy stopped talking, Elio felt the presence of two people behind him. Before he could turn his head, they immobilized him by putting drugs on his nose, making him fall asleep.

He tried to struggle before his body lost consciousness, but it was useless, they were more and much stronger. He felt stupid for thinking he could face them alone.

Elio's vision was blurred and his eyes felt heavy. His head was pounding, just like the first time he got drunk.

He looked around in all directions once he had regained his senses. He was afraid, but his subconscious desperately tried to find a way out. However, there wasn't even a window.

The room he was in was spacious and dimly lit, yet there were books everywhere. Strangely, he felt relieved not to be tied to a chair in a horrible place. He had seen movies about serial killers, kidnappings, documentaries about murderers and kidnappers, and usually, they all took their victims to an empty lot, an abandoned warehouse, or a gloomy basement.

He frantically searched for his belongings, his backpack was not there and his cell phone was not in his pockets; he was screwed. He looked around but the dim light didn't allow him to see beyond half a meter from him.

"Looking for this?" a voice from the shadows made him stop moving all the sofa cushions. He turned on a desk lamp, revealing part of his face.

Elio turned, astounded. That man, in his eighties, held his cellphone in his hands; how long had it been there? Was he so focused on his search that he couldn't see it?

"Why did you bring me here? Who are you?" Elio stood up, alarmed. The man did the same, circling the desk until he was face to face, leaning his body against the wood and looking the boy up and down; he was beautiful. He couldn't deny that his grandson had good taste.

"Don't worry, we won't hurt you."

"Of course, how did I even think that?" he scoffed, "I was drugged, brought here by force, and left incommunicado, surely it's something good," his sarcastic tone elicited a chuckle from the old man. It had to be admitted, the boy had guts. He was facing his captor and, as scared as he looked, his mocking words gave him some courage.

"It's not as terrible as it sounds," the old man said as he walked to a wall.

After increasing the lighting, Elio could see the man's face better, and those of his captors behind him, they were big and tattooed, he felt even more stupid now that he examined them closely. With a small and weak body, he could never fight against them. But his gaze returned to the old man. He had seen older men whose faces looked kind, however, this old man was the complete opposite. He swallowed hard at the imposing face of the man.

But Elio Mancini was not one to be intimidated, and, swallowing his fear, he put on a challenging look.

"What are you looking for?"

"Relax, I just want to talk to you."

Elio said nothing, his gaze still challenging. The old man twisted his lips into a satisfied smile. Despite how cute and delicate that boy looked, he undoubtedly had a rebellious and courageous spirit.

He was pleased with his grandson's good choice.

Vicenzo drove with a look of complete seriousness and frustration. His subordinate had informed him that some people had kidnapped young Mancini. He followed them and they brought him to his grandfather's home.

The hazel-eyed man squeezed his hands against the leather steering wheel of his Ferrari with force, causing the veins in his hands to stand out more from the strength used.

Why did his grandfather want that boy? he let out an annoyed sigh, gritting his teeth.

He continued driving. His grandfather had done it again, his memories traveled back to ten years ago when he was only twenty-five years old and deeply in love.

She had been, and he was almost sure, that she would be his only love, ridiculous as it sounded. She didn't deserve his grandfather incriminating her in that way. He wanted to defend her, however, his family has always been more important, but if he had another chance, he would not hesitate to save her from that humiliation.

He finally arrived at that huge mansion surrounded by armed people. He hurriedly entered through the huge door that adorned the main entrance. He strode to the entrance of the library.

"I'm sorry, young sir, your grandfather gave specific orders that no one should disturb him," the guard guarding the entrance bowed in apology.

Vicenzo Di Marco grumbled, annoyed, some words that were not understandable at all.

Although he wanted to, he couldn't interrupt, even as his grandson, there would be consequences if he disobeyed a direct order from the old Di Marco.

Without further ado, he decided to wait in the living room.

Surely his plan would go down the drain after the kidnapping of that boy. He didn't even know his name and he was already being interrogated by his grandfather.

"Damn it," he muttered the word as he poured himself a glass of tequila.

Elio was still processing what the old man was asking him. Although it seemed unnecessary, as he already had all his information in the folder he held in his hands.

When he asked why he insisted on asking those questions if he already had the answers, the old Di Marco smiled warmly and replied, "I want to test your patience, that's all."

"I assure you it's not much, it's almost at its limit."

Elio was struggling to stay seated and not leave or say something that he would surely regret.

Inside, there were three guards, the same ones who had brought him to that place, he was completely sure that behind those doors there would be even more guards. Getting out alive was not something he could do.

"Aren't you curious why I brought you here?"

"I asked from the beginning."

The old man smiled, his grandson had indeed found a rebellious "wife." That rebellion that Elio showed pleased him because, in a way, it reminded him of his past self.

"Tell me, boy," Gabriele, who had returned to his place a while ago, leaned back on the leather armchair, looked at Elio with inquisitive eyes, and continued with his question, "do you have a romantic partner?"

The boy's face changed from a stoic and uninterested expression to one of complete confusion.

In reality, he didn't even have a close friend. Since high school, in his second year, he began to distance himself from those who he then considered his friends.

He left each of them in the past and continued to live a life without forming friendships with anyone. Much less romance.

The life he had lived alongside his father taught him that he didn't need anyone by his side. And yet, remembering that he once felt the need to have that person, to have their love and all their attention, he was bothered by that feeling, maybe because it was not reciprocated, or simply because he hated that part of himself: the part where he could fall in love.

"Tks, I really hate it," he thought, as that feeling he had left years ago consumed him once again.

That person had suddenly distanced himself from him. At that moment, he couldn't explain his emotions. He had already left everything behind once to move to a new city, so he didn't understand why the sudden isolation from that boy hurt him so much.

"What does that matter?" he snapped. Inquiring about his love life irritated him.

"It matters more than you think," the elderly hazel-eyed man leaned towards him with an intimidating gaze, but somehow reassured him that nothing was going to happen to him. "I have a proposal for you, Elio Mancini."

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