Chapter 10

  ? Planting Seeds ?

  “Hey, Tommaso. The usual.”

  Tommaso, wiping a glass dry with the indifference of long habit, did not even glance up. His hand moved automatically to the back shelf, retrieving a dusty bottle with practiced ease.

  From the sink, Alex straightened slightly.

  "He came early", he noted, glancing to the man’s face. "And he asked for “the usual”… so he must be a regular."

  He turned, took up a broom, and began sweeping in loose, casual arcs, edging closer to the bar.

  The man’s gaze followed him.

  “Who’s this?” he asked, voice smooth as lacquered wood.

  Alex flinched—barely. His hand slowed for half a second before he caught himself.

  “Ah,” Tommaso said without looking. “New boy. Started today.”

  Alex turned toward Giovanni and gave a shallow nod.

  “Good evening.”

  There was a pause. Giovanni said nothing. He poured his drink slowly, deliberately.

  Then, from behind the bar, Lucia muttered, “Can’t you greet back at least?”

  Alex looked up, surprised. Her eyes weren’t on him, but the words had been for his sake.

  Tommaso’s head turned slightly in her direction, displeased, but he said nothing.

  Giovanni finally spoke. “Hello, new boy.” His lips curled. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Alex,” the boy said, holding the man’s gaze for a moment before dipping his head in a small, respectful bow — not submission, but habit, the kind you give to elders back home. His hands tightened faintly around the broom handle as he straightened again, waiting.

  The man leaned back on his stool, drink in hand. “And who do you work for?”

  There was a beat. Alex’s eyes flicked. His heart gave a small, traitorous leap—but he steadied himself. “I work for Mr. Tommaso.”

  Giovanni gave a dry smile. “Obviously.”

  "That startled me", Alex thought, pulse still quick. "For a moment, I thought he saw through me…"

  Giovanni took a sip of his drink, then turned his attention toward Lucia. “How are you today?”

  Lucia did not look up. “I’m fine.”

  “Anyone bothering you?”

  “…No,” her answer came a moment too late.

  “I want to work in peace, Lucia." Tommaso said, "You bring in customers, sure—but sometimes trouble too.” He shot a look at Giovanni. “Come earlier next time.”

  Giovanni chuckled softly. “Anyone suspicious?”

  “No." Tommaso answered flatly, "And business don’t get discussed here anymore. Keep this bar out of it.”

  Alex swept a little closer, head lowered, but ears keen.

  "So he does come early. Like he’s watching over her… but she doesn’t seem fond of it. Doesn’t lean toward him. Doesn’t smile. Just… bears it."

  The hours passed, one by one, until the bar lay quiet and clean. Shadows stretched across the walls, chairs propped upside-down, floor swept of every crumb.

  Giovanni remained, nursing his drink in brooding silence. But none dared approach Lucia. Not while he lingered.

  Alex watched from the far end of the bar.

  He kept them away, he thought. But she didn’t reward him for it. Didn’t even thank him. She just endured.

  Behind him, Tommaso checked the clock, then dried his hands with a brisk flick of the towel.

  “New boy,” he called out. “You’re done.”

  Alex stiffened. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Tommaso gave a short, dry laugh.

  “No. But it’s late. Later than this, and the streets change. Go home.”

  "Don’t push your luck", Alex told himself. "You got good information today. You can gather more tomorrow."

  He wiped his hands and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Tommaso. May I return tomorrow?”

  “You’d better. Just don’t be late.”

  Tommaso turned to Lucia. “You too.”

  “But I can keep working—” she began.

  “Same reason,” he cut in. “It’s late. Tomorrow’s a holiday. I’ll handle the rest.”

  She looked away, clearly disheartened.

  “You’ll get your full pay,” he added, more gently.

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Tommaso interrupted, his expression firm but his tone softening beneath it. He set the glass down, eyes lifting to her with a hint of warmth. “How’s your mother?”

  Lucia lowered her eyes. “She’s… getting better.”

  “Good. Go on, now. Good night.”

  Giovanni rose from his stool, his drink half-finished. “I can walk you.”

  Lucia stiffened. “No. I’ll be fine.”

  Giovanni tilted his head, smile gleaming like a blade. “I wasn’t asking.”

  Alex tensed—but before he could speak, Tommaso's sharp voice cut through. “She lives around the corner. Cut it out, Giovanni.”

  The two men held each other’s gaze. Then Giovanni gave a shrug, all good humor again, and backed away.

  Lucia turned—unexpectedly—to Alex. “Can you walk me?”

  There was no pause in his answer.

  “Of course. My pleasure.”

  As they stepped outside, the night pressed cool and quiet around them. Gaslight shivered on the cobblestones. Giovanni watched from the doorway, saying nothing.

  But his eyes followed them long after they’d turned the corner through the windows.

  They walked in silence through the narrow streets. The air smelled faintly of coal smoke and wet stone. Lucia had her hands tucked into her sleeves, shoulders drawn in against the chill. Her steps were brisk, light against the cobblestones.

  Alex kept pace beside her, quiet, eyes flicking now and then to the glow of the lamps overhead — pale gold halos shivering in the mist.

  After a while, he spoke. “Lucia?”

  She glanced at him. “Mm?”

  “What Mr. Tommaso said… about your mother. Is she alright?”

  Her stride faltered just slightly. “She’s been ill for a while,” she said after a moment. “And doctors don’t come cheap. So…” She gave a small shrug. “I work. Every night I can.”

  Alex hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

  Lucia shook her head gently. “Don’t be. You were my savior tonight.”

  He laughed, soft and surprised.

  He let out a breathy laugh. “Well… That guy Giovanni helped too, didn’t he?”

  At that, her smile faded. She looked ahead again. “Maybe,” she said, barely audible.

  Something in her tone made him want to ask more, but he didn’t. He just walked beside her, listening to the scrape of their boots and the distant hum of the city.

  After a a turn, she slowed. “This is me.”

  A narrow building leaned against the next, its shutters crooked, one window faintly lit from within.

  She turned to him, her voice softer now. “Good night, Alex.”

  “Good night, Lucia.” He hesitated. “And… I hope she gets better... um.. your mother.”

  She nodded, then lingered — studying his face, as if trying to decide whether to say something else. Instead, she stepped closer, leaned down slightly, and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Before he could find words, she’d already slipped inside. The door shut with a soft click, and the light behind it dimmed to a faint, trembling glow.

  Alex stood still for a while, fingers brushing the spot where she’d kissed him. The cold air pressed in again — yet somehow, it didn’t feel as sharp. He smiled to himself, small and quiet, and started walking. The street ahead looked softer now, as though the night itself had exhaled.

  DAY TWO

  Alex woke to sunlight spilling through the curtains. Dante was still tangled in blankets, mumbling under his breath.

  “Dante?”

  “…Let me sleep,” came the muffled reply.

  Alex grinned to himself. “Sure…”

  A few moments passed, then Dante’s voice rose again, still half-asleep. “Did you find… Giovanni?”

  “Yes. And what about you?” Alex asked, keeping his voice light. "Did you see Robert?"

  Dante rubbed his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah. Showed up. But I couldn’t get inside. Had to hang back, pretend I was begging. Watched him go in and out.”

  “I was a little luckier. I got a job at the bar,” Alex said, shrugging.

  Dante snorted and leaned back against his pillow. “Of course. Handsome little village boy. What else would happen?”

  Alex’s cheeks warmed. “Dominick predicted it. They were short-staffed… and the staff seems… decent.”

  “Mine? Not so friendly,” Dante said with a grin, stretching one arm lazily. “But I had a clear view from the window. I can do my thing from there.”

  “I’m heading back early. Gonna bring some junk—pretend I’m selling stuff so I don’t look suspicious,” Dante added, lying back down.

  “Good luck,” Alex replied. "I will also try to know more today about Giovanni."

  “Great. Now let me sleep,” Dante said, smirking faintly as he pulled the blankets closer.

  Alex stood and stretched lightly. “Lucky you. Two shifts today… still have to check Mr. Harris’s shop before the bar.”

  Dante cracked one eye open. “Yeah, yeah… being a pretty boy comes with a price, huh?”

  Alex shook his head, smiling, and moved to get ready for the day.

  NIGHT TWO

  Alex – Guilder Street Bar

  The clink of glasses, the low murmur of conversation, and the thick scent of tobacco filled the bar. Alex wiped down the counter, his eyes drifting again toward the corner where Giovanni sat — his sharp gaze fixed on Lucia, as always.

  "Today too. Giovanni showed up early. No one has approached her since he came in. But she’s not comfortable around him either. I couldn’t figure much else", Alex thought.

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lucia gripping the edge of a large barrel, trying to shift it. She winced slightly — it was clearly a little heavy for her.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "She’s not calling Giovanni to help… she’s trying by herself… Mr. Tommaso usually handles those, but he’s in the toilet…"

  Without hesitation, Alex dropped his rag.

  “Hey, Lucia! I got this.”

  “No, it’s too heav—” she began, but Alex’s arms were already around the barrel. He gritted his teeth, muscles taut, and hoisted it up.

  “Where do you want it?”

  Lucia blinked, caught off guard.

  “Uh—by the cellar hatch, near the side shelf…”

  Alex carried it over, planted it down with a thud, and exhaled.

  “That was… indeed heavy.”

  Lucia laughed softly, shaking her head.

  “Is there anything you can’t do? Strong, kind, good with people… If you tell me you play the violin too, I’m quitting right now.”

  Alex chuckled. “Unfortunately, I don’t. But I whistle.”

  She chuckled again, and Alex returned to his duties, his ears tinged with a faint blush.

  NIGHT TWO

  Dante – Via Sarto street bar

  Nearby, down a different street, Dante leaned casually against the doorway of a dimly lit pawn shop. Spread out before him on a rough cloth were a few pieces of scrap metal — his quiet tools for the night’s work. He didn’t need to look toward the bar Alex worked at; from here, he saw everything he needed.

  Inside this other bar, rougher and louder than Alex’s, Robert Cavazza was already drunk and far more aggressive than the night before.

  “Hey! What kind of drink is that? That how you treat customers here?” Robert snapped, his voice slurring.

  The bartender, calm and dry, barely glanced up. “Beat it, Robert. That’s your usual. Nothing changed unless the bottle started shapeshifting.”

  A few men at the counter chuckled nervously.

  “What are you laughing about?” Robert demanded, face darkening.

  “Nothing. We’re sorry,” one stammered, still trying not to laugh.

  Robert stormed over, looming like a bad storm. “You even know who I am?”

  The bartender raised an eyebrow, mocking. “Careful, gentlemen! That’s the next king!”

  “King?” muttered a man at the counter.

  Robert puffed up with pride. “I am Robert Cavazza. The next heir of the Marcettiss. You better watch your tongues next time or I’ll cut them.”

  One of the men cocked his head skeptically. “You’re not a Marcetti, though…”

  Robert snapped back sharply, “It’s not about the name or the blood. It’s about competence.”

  Another man nodded, somewhat impressed despite himself. “Oh, so you’re taking over even though you’re not blood…”

  Outside, Dante watched without a smirk — only quiet calculation.

  "Good," he thought. "The boss can work with that."

  DAY THREE

  The door to Dominick’s apartment closed softly behind Alex as he stepped into the quiet guest room. Dante was already there, reclining in a worn armchair with the easy confidence of a man who owned the place.

  “Dante?” Alex’s voice was low, hesitant.

  Dante gave a slow nod. “I’ve got something. The boss is waiting.”

  Alex hesitated a moment, then ventured the question that had been gnawing at him. “Before we go in... do you think he’ll hurt anyone uninvolved? Like innocent bystanders? Or someone close to the enforcers?”

  Dante cocked his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. If the boss wanted to cause that kind of damage, he’d have done it already. The fact he’s involving us means he’s taking a different approach.”

  Alex looked away, uneasy. “There’s a woman at the bar... she works there. I’m not sure if I should even mention her.”

  Leaning forward, Dante’s voice dropped. “Dominick’s a criminal, sure. But he’s no butcher. He doesn’t kill for sport. He wants to keep casualties to a minimum. Quiet, clean work, with as little noise as possible.”

  Alex frowned, unconvinced.

  “Think about it,” Dante continued. “Why all the planning, the watching, using us? He could have stormed the bar, sprayed bullets through every table, and been done with it. But he hasn’t.”

  Alex was silent, the truth settling uneasily.

  “Trust me,” Dante said quietly. “Whatever you have, just tell him. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. That woman? She’ll come through this. My word.”

  Alex didn’t respond immediately, his thoughts still tangled. Finally, he nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes. “Alright.”

  A few moments later, they entered Dominick’s study. The room was dim and quiet, the soft glow of a lamp casting long shadows on the polished wood and stone walls. Dominick sat behind his desk, his black coat draped over the back of his chair like a shadow.

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  They obeyed, and the silence thickened, sharp as a blade.

  “So,” Dominick said, turning his piercing gaze toward Alex, “what have you found?”

  Alex sat up straighter, voice steadying. “Yes.. Um.. Giovanni has been frequenting the bar where I work. Two days running, arriving early each time.”

  Dominick’s eyes narrowed. “Anything else?”

  Alex swallowed, then spoke quickly. “He has a presence—strong, like yours. There’s a woman who works there, a beautiful woman. She’s often harassed by customers, but since Giovanni arrived, no one bothers her.”

  “Are they together?” Dominick asked sharply.

  “No,” Alex hurried to clarify. “She doesn’t want to be near him. She won’t even let him walk her home. I did.”

  Dominick regarded him for a long moment, expression unreadable.

  “Dante?” he asked.

  Without hesitation, Dante began. “Robert Cavazza. Came twice. Different times, different nights. Left at different times too. Young—between twenty and twenty five. Right-handed. Proud, but insecure. Desperate to prove himself even to the wrong crowd.”

  Alex's lips fell apart in surprise at the detail.

  Dante continued. “He screamed about being the heir to the Marcettis but he watches everyone who comes in, carefully.”

  “Just checking?” Dominick pressed.

  “Not worried about himself. If he was, he wouldn’t be shouting his name. He feels safe here but isn’t acknowledged. He wants something—anything—to prove himself.”

  Dominick nodded slowly.

  Turning back to Alex, Dominick asked, “Any interaction between Giovanni and this woman? At all?”

  “No,” Alex said. “It’s one-sided. Giovanni watches to make sure no one bothers her. She doesn’t want him near.”

  “And the woman? What is she like aside from her beauty?”

  Alex hesitated, then spilled it out “She is… polite… doesn’t want trouble…she gets harassed sometimes…”

  “How does she react ?”

  “She doesn’t like it… she doesn’t want any trouble… she works there because her mother is sick and… her house is nearby…”

  Dominick thought for a few seconds.

  "One is simping so hard for a beautiful woman..."

  "The other is young and wants to prove himself..."

  Dominick leaned back, eyes narrowing as pieces clicked into place.

  “Alex, you keep working in that bar, like usual, keep walking her too, befriend her more if you can. If he does anything to the woman, tell me.”

  “That is all for you. You can go.” he said.

  “Right.” Alex rose quickly, relief and tension mixed in his movements.

  “Dante, stay.”

  As Alex slipped out and the door clicked softly behind him, Dante smiled. “Good job, buddy.”

  NIGHT THREE

  Dante – Via Sarto street bar

  The next night, Dante watched from the alley’s edge, his silhouette swallowed by shadow and half-light.

  The bar’s windows flickered with warm gold, casting moving shapes across the dirty glass. Inside, laughter grew louder with each round poured.

  “Late night...” he murmured, eyes narrowing on the center table.

  “That’s his sixth glass. Maybe seventh. He should be real drunk by now. The others too... loud. Sloppy.”

  “Okay. Showtime.”

  He stepped inside, greeted by a wall of smoke, sweat, and stale spirits.

  The bartender barely glanced up before scowling.

  “You again, kid?” he barked.

  Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender, smile playful and disarming. “Relax. I’m not here for that.”

  He turned, scanning the room until his eyes landed on a broad man at the center table—slouched, flushed, glass in hand.

  “Hey you!” Dante called.

  Robert blinked, slow and annoyed. “What do you want?”

  “Buy something from me? Just a little something. I’m starving out here.”

  Robert stared. “What are you even selling?”

  Dante pulled out a handful of junk from his coat pocket—twisted metal scraps, the fractured face of a broken watch, maybe the edge of a cracked mirror.

  Worthless. Pitiful.

  The bar roared.

  One man choked on his drink, another slapped the table. A third pointed and wheezed, “What the hell are we supposed to do with that garbage?”

  “Maybe fix your face with it, kid!” someone else shouted.

  Even Robert snorted. “Scram. I’ve got no use for junk.”

  But Dante’s smile sharpened.

  “Come on, sir. You look like a big deal. Rich. Important. Aren’t you?”

  Robert leaned back, eyeing him with faint disdain. “I am a big deal. Doesn’t mean I’m buying trash.”

  The bartender snorted. “Come on, Robert, show a little pity—like your bosses pitied you when they took you in.”

  Laughter again. This time louder, uglier.

  Dante tilted his head, eyes steady.

  “…Yeah,” he said quietly, just enough for the nearest men to hear. “I guess he’s no big deal after all.”

  The laughter thinned. Something shifted. Tension gathered like storm clouds rolling low.

  “Ohhh boy,” some men muttered.

  “You hear that, Robert?” someone said, nudging him. “The kid just disrespected you.”

  Robert’s glass lowered slowly. “What did you say?”

  “You turned me down,” Dante said, shrugging. “And judging by how they talk to you... yeah. You don’t seem like much.”

  He turned toward the door, casual as ever.

  “So I’ll just leave.”

  Robert’s voice dropped like a hammer. “Hold it. You think you can just walk away?”

  Dante paused, halfway to the threshold.

  “Sure,” Dante said, smiling faintly. “I’ll go to that other bar. Anyone as rich and important as this dude around these streets, guys?”

  One man snorted. “Nah... this one’s unique, kid.”

  Another chimed in, slurring slightly. “I’d like to see Giovanni’s face when you hand him that junk.”

  “Who?” Dante said, turning slightly. “You think he’d buy from me?”

  “He works with Robert—supposedly,” the drunk added, swirling his cup. “But I dunno. Maybe sell flowers instead, kid.”

  “Actually,” a third voice said, “is Giovanni still hangin’ around that one bar?”

  “Yeah. Wanted to go there myself,” someone else muttered. “But that pretty girl works there—Lucia. He doesn’t let anyone near her.”

  Dante raised a brow. “Wow. Good with the ladies too. I’ll definitely try him.”

  He paused, then played dumb with perfect innocence.

  “So wait—this man, Roberto or whatever can’t go there either? ‘Cause Giovanni won’t let him near her?”

  The bar snapped silent—right before the thud echoed through the floorboards.

  Robert’s boot slammed into Dante’s ribs, knocking him sideways across the wood. Glasses rattled.

  “Shut up and leave,” Robert hissed, standing over him. "Before I turn you into a piece of junk no one would buy."

  Dante groaned, half-curled—but the curl masked a smirk.

  “Robert, come on... that was too much,” someone muttered uneasily.

  But another laughed, raising his drink. “Aww, no shame in it. None of us can go near her either. Only the simps who don’t mind just looking...”

  “She’s not even with him, is she?” a third slurred. “What’s Giovanni’s deal anyway?”

  “Maybe she is,” said the first. “Who knows. Either way, not smart to mess with that man.”

  One of the drunks clapped Robert on the shoulder. “Hey—why don’t you go talk to her? Shoot your shot.”

  Another voice joined. “Yeah, let’s see if you’re charming enough for Lucia!”

  “Hell yeah!” the man said, smirking. “Bar’s getting boring. Let’s see Robert try his luck with the fairy.”

  “If he means what he says... come on,” the third man added with a lazy grin. “Next heir of the Marcettis, right?”

  Laughter again— it did reach Robert. His fists tightened. His face darkened.

  And somewhere in the shadow of the counter, Dante watched it all unfold.

  Just like the boss said it would.

  NIGHT THREE

  Alex – Guilder street bar

  The bar’s weary chatter ebbed as Tommaso wiped the counter one last time and called the night’s end.

  “Shift’s over. Off with you both,” he said, voice rough but kind.

  Alex turned toward Lucia, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Shall I walk you home again, Lucia?”

  She returned his smile with quiet warmth. “Of course, young man.”

  Alex’s heart lifted. The evening strolls had become moments of simple solace. He thought to himself that he was not harming anyone, and that there was no cause for suspicion — nothing to report about Giovanni to Dominick.

  Yet as if summoned by some dark certainty, Giovanni rose from his seat by the counter, his movements deliberate and heavy. Approaching them, his very presence cast a shadow, causing both Alex and Lucia to start involuntarily.

  “Go home, kid,” Giovanni said, his voice low and measured. “I’ll walk her tonight.”

  “Giovanni!” Tommaso’s protest broke through from behind the bar.

  Giovanni only smiled faintly, a curl of defiance in his voice. “Sorry, Tommaso. But you’re not my father.”

  The bar fell into a hush thick with whispers, eyes darting between the three.

  Alex met Giovanni’s gaze—an unspoken plea flickering there. He did not trust the man, nor did he wish to relinquish his place by Lucia’s side. Yet, in a subtle motion, Lucia squeezed Alex’s hand—a silent signal heavy with fear and resolve.

  “I’m fine tonight, Alex,” she said softly, though the timbre of her words betrayed a longing she would not admit. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Alex nodded wordlessly. He watched as she stepped out into the night, Giovanni close behind her. And though he stayed at a cautious distance, his eyes never left them; his concern tethered to every careful step they took.

  The walk to Lucia’s small apartment was brief and marked by an oppressive silence. The night wrapped cold and still around them. Neither spoke.

  At the door, Lucia paused. “Good night.”

  Giovanni’s voice came low, barely more than a murmur. “Lucia.”

  Her body stiffened. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I said no.” Her voice trembled, fragile as thin glass.

  “You think I’d hurt you?”

  Lucia's eyes fell, voice barely a whisper. “There are hundreds of women out there, Giovanni. Why me?”

  He smiled faintly, the darkness in his eyes unsettling. “Because it's you.”

  “Please, no.”

  “This must end,” she said desperately. “The rumors—people are watching. What if they see you?”

  “I don’t care." Giovanni shrugged, "If anyone dares speak against you, they’ll regret it. No one will touch you, Lucia. No one will whisper behind your back. I’ll protect you.”

  “I don’t want protection," Lucia's voice broke, almost begging. "I’m not involving myself with anyone from the mob. I want to be left alone.”

  From a distance, Alex could not hear, but he saw the tension—thick, suffocating.

  Giovanni’s tone softened, coaxing but firm. “I’ll do this every night if I must.”

  Her lips parted, a silent plea tangled with fear.

  “I never asked for more than a chance,” he said. “Not a drink. I promised to treat you well. To keep my work out of your life. Yet you persist.”

  “I offered money for your mother’s medicines,” he continued quietly, “though I’m struggling myself. You wouldn’t take it.”

  He studied her, voice rough with a strange tenderness. “I’m sorry. You don’t realize how terrifyingly attractive you are.”

  “My mother… is inside,” she whispered.

  Giovanni’s eyes lingered on her, unmoving.

  Lucia looked down, trembling, the weight of her defiance crumbling. With a slow, resigned motion, she opened the door—leaving it ajar.

  He stepped inside without a word. Alex stayed in the shadows for a moment, watching, then silently turned and slipped away. He moved quickly through the narrow streets, thoughts fixed on one thing: he would report this to Dominick.

  Feel free to drop theories and thoughts on how this will end.

  Thank you for reading :)

  ?? Join the Community!

  chat about the story, share theories, or help build a friendly, no-pressure community, you’re welcome to join my Discord:

  

  
• 
  
    Free to join, no profit or ads — just a place for fans and curious minds.
  
    


  
• 
  
    don’t have a RoyalRoad account, you can join and participate.
  
    


  
•