THE NEXT DAY GIOVANNI woke up alone in bed. He had listened to his mother's adamant advice, choosing to lie only with himself. Despite his libido, Giovanni chose not to go behind his mother's back. Sometimes he felt responsible for her stress, he knew he was constantly on her nerves. So, for the night, Giovanni simply went home and slept. Alone.
He cringed as the sunlight attacked his eyes. It had been a long night, a long day, for him yesterday. Without the company of one of his many playthings, the day just seemed to drag on endlessly. It almost felt excruciating, but Giovanni knew that boredom would always be. And, if he wanted to put himself back into his mother's good books then he'd have to listen and do what she says. No matter how difficult or painful it is.
He almost opened his mouth to order a girl out of his room. Realizing what he was about to do, he shook his heavy head and swung his legs off the bed. Giovanni slowly began to establish the same mindset of his mother, understanding how terrible his constant desire for sexual release. Especially if he was so used to barking out orders every morning he awoke to the whore beside him.
The hardwood flooring was cold against his feet, and he resisted the urge to shiver. He had opted to just wear a pair of briefs to bed, and that ultimately bit him in the ass. His room was freezing and, in return, Giovanni allowed small cusses to escape his lips. Goosebumps almost rose on his skin, but before they could he had already walked towards the bathroom.
Taking a quick glance in the mirror turned into a deep conscious stare. He surveyed his features; a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, an aristocratic nose, plump rosy lips and slight facial hair shadowing his face. Giovanni wasn't one to be over obsessed with his vanity, he had his own insecurities. For example, the slight scar that ran from his temple down his neck. Or the scars that littered his skin, covered my tattoos that swirled up his arms and across his pectorals. A tribal design crossed over his upper back and, at times, peaked out from the collars of his shirts.
It was this time in the morning, the dull and quiet awakening of day, that was the hardest for him. The morning once he had awoken was the time he felt the most alone, the most vulnerable. Giovanni had always wished to find someone who would make his life worth living, but his lifestyle just didn't permit that. He couldn't bring it upon himself to shove away work for even a moment and actually search for 'the one.' Despite his mother's constant pushiness on the subject, Giovanni had never gone out to meet a woman.
The days where he sat in his office, the weight of murder riding on his conscience, Giovanni questioned if he was even worthy of such a thing. He was a monster, he was the devil incarnate. His past, his present, and his future was littered with blood and gore. After all, he had first killed a man when he was only thirteen. His entire life he had been reaped of emotion, never having the chance to cry or experience true feelings. Giovanni had been forced into this lifestyle and to grow up much faster than he had wanted to.
Unfortunately, the mafia was all he'd known. Yes, he did own a few businesses on the side; a law firm, a few five star restaurants, and a chain of hotels. Other than that, he didn't know the basics of love other than platonic. He knew he loved his mother and father, that he--despite his stupidity--loved Antonio. Giovanni loved his job and the privileges he had earned because of it. He loved that, other than inheriting his family's established mafia, he had built his own empire. Giovanni felt pride when he thought of his success outside his inheritance.
Breaking from his thoughts, Giovanni returned to his daily routine; shower, dress, eat, work. It had been like that for years now, ever since he had became the mob boss with his father retiring. He never really had the chance to change anything up, his schedule was much too hectic for that. Some days would include organizing shipments and adjusting his vast drug cartel. Other days would be devoted purely to expanding the fear attached to his image; killing and torturing.
Giovanni quickly cleaned himself after he had turned on the shower. He made sure the water was cold to tame his morning erection, a common occurrence with or without a woman in his bed. Giovanni speedily washed his hair and body before turning off the shower. He had always been quick in the shower, not finding it necessary to take his time. After all, the quicker he started work, the quicker he could be done for the day.
Tying a towel around his waist, Giovanni dried his hair with a separate one. He had decidedly forgone shaving today and exited the steamy bathroom into his room. Padding towards his closet, cracking his knuckles simultaneously. He pushed open the door and tossed his towel to the side and slid on his briefs, as well as his dress shirt. With practice, Giovanni attached his cufflinks and buttoned up hair white button up, the top two buttons undone. They showcased his taut, tan chest and the slight hair that grew there.
Giovanni was a man of pure masculinity and his rugged good looks could vouch for that. He had dark piercing eyes and brown almost black hair that was thick and soft as silk. It curled slightly at the ends and when left natural, it brought out his boyish charm. Usually, though, he swept it back from his forehead, stray strands falling onto his forehead. It was a no brainer why he had so many women falling at his feet. They seemed to worship him, almost as if he was some higher power.
After all, he was devilishly handsome. Giovanni smirked at that.
• • •
"Giovanni?" He looked up from his paperwork as he sat in his office. The day had been boring so far, nothing even remotely interesting. It was all tracking records and allied contracts. Every sheet was piled up on his desk and he was swiftly consumed by work.
His mother stood at the doorway, playing with her fingers. She gnawed at her lower lip, almost in anxiety. Giovanni was confused, not understanding why she would even feel like that around him. She knew that she had nothing to fear of be nervous about when it came to him. Giovanni could never hurt a fly around his mother, it just wasn't possible; mainly because she would make him go through hell and back if he did.
She stood silent even as he stared at her, awaiting her words patiently. Whatever she was so concerned over, Giovanni only hoped it wouldn't dampen his day any further. After all, the tedious busywork that had been prolonged and now took up hours of his day were never ending; obviously, considering how long he had shoved them to the side. Giovanni knew that he needed to get the legal--as legal as mafia terms and conditions; not even to mention the drug cartel and human trafficking--work over with if he wanted to reach the good stuff. Well, as good as the terminating of personal vendettas could be.
"Giovanni, you know that I know how busy you are now, sì?" She sighed, stepping hesitantly into the room. She was cautious, for some reason, and had difficulty staring into her son's eyes for one of the first times. "Tuo padre si sente male, vedi..." she spit out rapid Italian, not pacing them well.
Giovanni raised his hands, halting her from continuing. "Mamma, just spit it out, va bene?" He spoke slowly, trying to ease his gentle words and calm his mother's unneeded nerves. He resisted the urge to glare at her to continue, knowing fully well that this was his mamma, not Antonio.
"Could you please stop at that little cafe, you know the one your father would bring us to?" She released a shaky breath during the silence. Fat tears well in her doe eyes and her lips trembled in sadness. "Ha bisogno di questo..." she trailed off as he body shook with deep tremors of agony. Giovanni instantly stood from his seat and went to go comfort his bothered mother.
"Mamma, è peggio, vero?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper as his mother fell apart in his embrace. She nodded, not able to open her eyes through the tears as sobs wracked through her tiny body. It broke his heart to see her like this; she was, and had been, so damaged with the deterioration of his father's health. They had seen the best doctors, he'd had the best treatments, but the cancer just didn't go away. Chemotherapy wasn't working, so his father refused to take it anymore. It broke the entire family's hearts with his unfortunate end that was approaching quicker than ever.
"I just want him to be happy during i suoi ultimi giorni." She sniffled weakly before titling her head up to stare into her son's eyes. The eyes that he had inherited from his father, her beloved. She almost broke into tears again at the mere thought of only Giovanni being a reminder of her true love's existence. "Per favore fai questo per me, fai questo per lui." She tried to control her wavering voice and momentarily accomplished that.
Giovanni nodded rapidly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Of course, mamma. I would do anything for either one of you, ti amo." After pressing one last kiss on his mother's head, he grabbed his disregarded his suit jacket and sped out of the room. He wanted to retrieve his father's favorite espresso and pastry from the coffee shop and bring it back as soon as possible. Even if it was a small act, Giovanni would do anything to make his father's last days eventful. It was the least he could do.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Translations-
1. Sì / yes
2. Tuo padre si sente male, vedi / Your dad feels bad, you see
3. Va bene / all right
4. Ha bisogno di questo / He needs this
5. Mamma, è peggio, vero? / Mom, it's worse, right?
6. i suoi ultimi giorni / his last days
7. Per favore fai questo per me, fai questo per lui / Please do this for me, do this for him.
I have a question,
DID I EVER MENTION GIO'S AGE?