The office was quiet. Elio Mancini sat in his small cubicle at the back of the building, working through files with the steady focus of someone who actually enjoyed what they paid him to do. His mother had gotten him the position here, after his previous job fell through — the streets had grown too dangerous back then, kidnappings by the most powerful mafia family skyrocketing overnight, and they'd had no choice but to seek the Mandeli family's protection.

It was a good job. Safe. He liked the work well enough, even though his real passion had always been animals.

Elio had a habit of putting on piano music while he worked, or letting an animal documentary play softly through his earbuds. The other employees kept to themselves, which suited him fine. But after a few minutes, the murmur of voices drifted through the office — someone had arrived.

Apparently, a friend of their employer had shown up and was meeting with him in the conference room. Elio didn't pay much attention. He rarely saw Attorney Mandeli anyway.

About half an hour later, he realized the printer was out of paper and headed to the front of the office to grab a ream.

On his way back, rounding the partition, he nearly collided with a man. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes that were almost unnervingly beautiful — catching the light like polished amber. His body was clearly the product of discipline: broad shoulders, sculpted frame, the kind of physique that didn't happen by accident. His clothes confirmed what Elio already suspected — this was no ordinary visitor.

White dress shirt, black trousers, dark leather shoes, a black blazer. No tie. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. Elio swallowed hard. Despite the man's striking appearance, there was something terrifying about those eyes.

"I'm sorry," Elio said, dipping his head in a small bow.

He'd always been the quiet type — or at the very least, someone who avoided socializing whenever possible. Whenever people asked his mother why he didn't seem to have any friends, she had a simple answer: He's shy.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, kid."

The man's voice was so deep it sent a shiver down Elio's spine. That low, resonant tone made him oddly compelling. Elio didn't linger. He turned and headed back to the copy room.

...

"I didn't know you had such attractive employees, Mr. Mandeli," Vicenzo Di Marco said the moment he walked back into the attorney's office.

"Oh? Who'd you meet?" Mandeli replied with a sly grin.

"A kid with bluish eyes. Pretty face. Though his fashion sense is a bit... aggressive."

"Ah, you're talking about Elio."

"So that's his name." Vicenzo leaned back. "I didn't have the nerve to ask him. He seems incredibly shy."

Mandeli let out a hearty laugh. "Don't let that pretty face or that shy act fool you. Trust me — that boy is nothing like what he appears to be."

"Really?" Vicenzo's interest sharpened. He licked his lips, remembering the boy's gaze. He suddenly wanted to know if Elio was everything his grandfather's old friend described. If so, he might just be exactly who Vicenzo had been looking for.

"But be careful, Vicenzo." The warmth drained from the room. Mandeli's expression turned dark. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him."

The shift was so sudden that even Vicenzo felt the weight of it. Despite being near equals in temperament and power, he had genuine respect for this man. Still, the threat only made him more curious.

"Why the warning, my dear attorney?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and holding the older man's gaze.

"Elio Mancini is the son of someone I care about deeply. I won't let you put your filthy hands on him. Besides, he's only nineteen — far too young for you."

"All right, all right." Vicenzo raised his hands in surrender, smiling easily. "Besides, I'm a hundred percent heterosexual." He shifted in his seat. "Anyway, I actually came here to ask you something. Do you know anyone who might be interested in marrying me?"

"Marrying? You're serious about getting married?"

"I'd rather not — not after what happened last time." A heavy sigh escaped him. "But my grandfather won't let it go. You know I take marriage seriously, and even though I enjoy jumping from bed to bed, I'm not about to marry any of the women I sleep with. They're not my type."

Mandeli couldn't quite wrap his head around it. The man sitting across from him was attractive, a wildly successful businessman, owner of some of the largest companies in Europe, and one of the most feared men on the continent. He could have anyone — models, actresses, heiresses. Looking for a wife out of nowhere? It made no sense.

"But those women are gorgeous. In every way. Anyone would dream of being with someone like that."

"They're all plastic," Vicenzo said with a laugh that drew a reluctant smile from Mandeli. "But honestly, that's not the issue. People can modify their bodies as many times as they damn well please. The thing is, Godfather —" His tone turned serious. "Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but the right person hasn't come along yet. Someone to replace her. Until that happens, I don't want to get married — especially not to some girl who's only after money."

"Then why ask me if I know someone?"

"Simple. If she's only marrying me for the money, that's fine. I keep living my life, and my grandfather gets off my back. The younger the better — young girls are easy to manipulate. A few sweet words and they'll eat out of your hand."

"That's contradictory." The attorney settled deeper into his chair. "But clever. I'll give you that. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who fits the bill right now."

Vicenzo's face fell with disappointment as he took a sip from the glass in front of him.

...

By late afternoon, the office had emptied out. Only Mr. Mandeli's personal secretary remained, since he was still deep in conversation with his guest.

Elio had also stayed late. He had a mountain of backlogged work, and while Mandeli was a good man, he had zero tolerance for employees falling behind. It was seven-thirty in the evening by the time Elio finally shut down his computer and packed up to leave.

He said his usual polite goodbye and got a cheerful "See you tomorrow" from the secretary.

He walked to the entrance to wait for his older brother, popped in his earbuds, and stood by the door. A gorgeous car was parked right in front of him — a black Ferrari, the kind that screamed money from every angle. Elio sighed. A car like that could only belong to someone born into wealth. Even walking too close to it felt dangerous. One scratch and he'd be indentured to the owner for the rest of his life — and even that probably wouldn't cover the damages.

"Excuse me." A light tap on his shoulder, accompanied by that deep masculine voice, made him look up. "Could you move? I need to get going."

"Oh — yes, I'm so sorry." He stepped aside with a small bow.

"You're Elio Mancini, right?" Elio wasn't surprised that the man knew his name. He assumed Mr. Mandeli had mentioned him.

"Yes, sir."

"I have a proposition for you."

Elio froze, completely blindsided. What kind of proposition could a total stranger possibly have for him? He didn't even know the man's name — though he was clearly one of the most prominent figures in Italy, powerful in both the underworld and the business world. Elio didn't know much about engineering, but he knew this imposing man was the youngest tycoon in the country. A civil engineer who could, with a single word, bring the nation's most important buildings crashing to the ground.

"I..."

"Elio." His brother's voice came from behind him, and Elio turned with visible relief. The stranger's piercing stare had been making his nerves crawl. "Let's go."

"I have to leave. Goodbye, sir."

Elio Mancini. The name began circling through Vicenzo's thoughts as he watched the boy climb into another man's car. His lips curved into a satisfied smile.

He got into his Ferrari and, before pulling away, dialed a trusted contact.

"Look into Elio Mancini. He works for my godfather, Mr. Mandeli."

Vicenzo Di Marco had found what he was looking for. Despite Luigi Mandeli's warning — the barely disguised threat — he had no intention of stopping. He had someone in his crosshairs now, and everything Vicenzo Di Marco wanted, he got.

That fragile-looking boy was the perfect prey for his ruthless jaws. He wasn't looking for romance. He wasn't looking for someone to love him. He was certain he would never love anyone again. Never. And that made the boy the perfect option. If his grandfather objected, Vicenzo would have the upper hand either way.

...

"Grandfather." Vicenzo greeted him with a smile. The old man returned it. It had been quite some time since he'd seen his grandson in person. Vicenzo had grown — there was no trace left of the rebellious teenager he'd once been.

"Vicenzo. Your father... when is he coming?"

A shrug. "He said sometime this week. Didn't give me a specific day."

The truth was, Vicenzo Di Marco had returned to his native Italy from Russia at his father's request. Salvatore Di Marco had summoned him — it was time for Vicenzo to take control of the Di Marco clan.

"We have urgent matters to discuss." The old man tossed several photographs onto the glass coffee table. "Vicenzo, a new group is trying to sabotage us and take over our territory."

"Since when?" Vicenzo picked up each photo and studied them carefully. He didn't recognize a single face, which troubled him.

"A few months now. I don't have an exact start date for when the betrayal and intelligence leaks began."

"So we have a mole in the organization." Vicenzo's brow furrowed. Traitors were a fact of life in their line of work, but the Di Marco family had always maintained fierce internal loyalty. This was a first.

"Several, actually. That's why I need your father here." Gabriele took a sip from his glass. "There's also another important matter we need to discuss."

"What's that?"

"You still don't have a wife."

Vicenzo exhaled in frustration. He loved his grandfather, but the constant pressure to marry was infuriating. He'd lost all taste for commitment. Not anymore.

"I'm working on it," he said, rising and heading for the door. Then he paused. "But you won't have a problem if it's a husband, right?"

He walked out without waiting for an answer. His grandfather's usually unreadable face betrayed a flicker of... something. Whether it was displeasure, surprise, or some strange form of approval was impossible to tell. But the old man was certainly caught off guard. He'd always known his grandson as a man who relished the company of beautiful women.

He was well aware of every one of Vicenzo's affairs. Which was precisely why he couldn't fathom his grandson wanting to marry a man.

"Young Vicenzo certainly surprised us," said a man standing nearby — Marcello, his right hand. "I never imagined he could be interested in men. He's always been such a... libertine. Completely devoted to women."

"Marcello." Gabriele cut him off.

"Sir."

"Find out who my grandson wants to marry. I will not allow just anyone into this family."

"Yes, sir."

And that was how Elio Mancini found himself in the crosshairs of the most powerful family in the Italian underworld. The poor boy had no idea that two of the mafia's most dangerous minds had their eyes locked on him.

"Sir." The subordinate said as he entered Di Marco's office.

The place exuded elegance in every detail, from the decor to the enormous double-height ceiling with a chandelier of white lights. The furniture was new and in neutral tones. Wherever you looked, the word elegance was written.

The scent of Royal Courtesan flooded every corner of the room, mingling with the bergamot of the air freshener. The ice in his whisky clinked as it melted, cubes sliding over one another, the sound echoing through the silent office.

"Elio Mancini, a young man of nineteen years old, born in 2002, July 26th."

That was the first piece of information the young boss Di Marco received from his subordinate. He continued reading the report which, incidentally, was nothing more than a single letter-sized page.

"He turns twenty in three months."

"That's correct, sir."

Vicenzo kept reading.

According to the file he'd been given, Elio lived only with his mother and siblings. His father had died of an alleged alcohol overdose five years prior. The man had been found outside a bar in a rough neighborhood, his body purple, with a bottle of adulterated beer beside him.

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

He continued reading while taking a drag from the cigar in his left hand. Elio turned out to be good at his studies. He'd held the top spot since childhood all the way through high school, having 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 household. He recalled that Luigi Mandeli had told him about a highly trusted maid. She had even accompanied his godfather to close some important deals. Perhaps he'd seen her once, but he couldn't remember her face.

However, before his father's death, there seemed to be no information about them. Nothing about 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 at his notary office," 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 at that time still enjoyed stable health, worried greatly about his only grandson. He had once allowed him to do things on his own, and the consequences had been fatal, even if Vicenzo still wouldn't accept it. Now, he had to make sure his grandson made the right choice.

...

After that day, both mafia bosses turned their attention to the young man.

Elio was young, but not stupid. He'd noticed that for a couple of weeks now, someone had been following him.

At first, he thought it was his brother they were tailing. Carlo Mancini was a crime and politics journalist who had made many enemies since he'd decided to air the dirty laundry of a supreme court judge. However, that theory was discarded when, on weekends or after his self-defense classes, he spotted people behind him.

Still, he didn't know who they were or what they wanted. He thought about his aunts. They were the only ones capable of something as low as stalking. And if it was them, he wasn't going to run. He wanted to get revenge for his father's death.

Even though the case was closed and the forensics had ruled it an overdose, neither he nor his sister believed that.

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

Elio had decided to confront the bastards who'd been following him.

It was six-thirty in the evening when he left work. The sun hadn't been kind those days, and by that hour it was nearly hidden. He walked discreetly toward the spot he'd planned.

He sensed three presences behind him. He continued into an alley, hoping to ambush them. He moved a little faster than whoever was following him. He hid and waited for the man to walk past.

He made sure no one else was nearby and stepped out of his hiding spot. He walked up behind the man and caught him by surprise.

"Lose something?" he asked, stepping out from behind a dumpster.

The man grunted, annoyed, his expression shifting to one of concern. Elio stood with his arms crossed, waiting for a response that never came.

"Oh," the man exclaimed with sheer mockery, "you'll find out soon enough."

As soon as the man stopped talking, Elio felt two presences behind him. Before he could turn his head, they immobilized him, pressing a drug-soaked cloth to his nose, putting him to sleep.

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

...

Elio's vision was blurry and his eyelids felt heavy. His head was pounding, just like the first time he'd gotten drunk.

He turned his head in every direction once he'd regained his senses. He was afraid, but his subconscious was desperately searching for an exit. 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 some horrible place. He'd watched movies about serial killers, kidnappings, documentaries about murderers and abductors. Usually, they all took their victims to a vacant lot, an abandoned warehouse, or a gloomy basement.

He searched frantically for his belongings. His backpack was gone and his phone wasn't in his pockets. He was fucked. He looked all around, but the dim light wouldn't let him see beyond half a meter.

"Looking for this?" A voice from the shadows made him stop tossing the sofa cushions. A desk lamp clicked on, partially illuminating a face.

Elio spun around, stunned. The man, who looked to be in his eighties, held his phone. How long had he been there? Had he been so absorbed in his search that he hadn't noticed him?

"Why did they bring me here? Who are you people?" Elio stood up, alarmed. The man did the same and walked around the desk until he stood in front of him, leaning his body against the wood as he looked the boy over from head to toe. He was beautiful. He couldn't deny that his grandson had good taste.

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

"Of course, how could I have possibly thought that?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You drugged me, brought me here by force, and left me with no way to communicate. Surely it's all a good thing." The sarcastic tone drew a hearty laugh from the old man. He had to admit, the kid had guts. He was standing in front of his captor, and as scared as he looked, his mocking words gave him a certain courage.

"It's less terrible than it sounds," the old man said, walking toward a wall.

After raising the lighting, Elio could better see the man's face, and his captors behind the old man. They were large and tattooed. He felt even more stupid now that he got a good look at them. With a small, weak body, he could never fight them. But his gaze returned to the old man. He'd seen elderly men before, and their faces usually looked kind. This one, however, was the complete opposite. He swallowed hard at the imposing face before him.

But Elio Mancini was not the kind to be intimidated. Swallowing his fear, he fixed the man with a defiant stare.

"What do you want?"

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

Elio said nothing, his gaze still defiant. The old man twisted his lips into a satisfied smile. Despite how pretty and delicate the boy appeared, he undoubtedly had a rebellious and courageous spirit.

He was pleased with his grandson's good choice.

...

Vicenzo drove with an expression of complete seriousness and frustration. His subordinate had informed him that some people had kidnapped the young Mancini. He'd tracked them, and they'd taken him to his grandfather's home.

The hazel-eyed man gripped the leather steering wheel of his Ferrari so tightly that the veins in his hands stood out from the force.

What did his grandfather want with that boy? He let out an irritated huff, clenching his teeth.

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

She had been, and he was almost certain she would be, his only love. As ridiculous as it sounded, that's what he believed. She didn't deserve what his grandfather had done, framing her like that. He wanted to defend her, but his family had always come first. If he had another chance, though, he wouldn't hesitate to save her from that humiliation.

He finally arrived at the enormous mansion surrounded by armed men. He rushed inside through the grand door that adorned the main entrance, striding toward the library.

"I'm sorry, young sir, your grandfather gave specific orders that no one is to disturb him."

The guard at the entrance bowed toward him in apology.

Vicenzo Di Marco muttered some unintelligible words in annoyance.

No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't interrupt. Even as his grandson, there would be consequences if he disobeyed a direct order from the elder Di Marco.

With no other choice, he decided to wait in the sitting room.

His plan would surely go to hell after the kidnapping of that boy. He didn't even know his name, and the kid 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 had been asking him. It seemed unnecessary, since he already had all the information in the folder in his hands.

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

"I assure you it's not much. It's almost reached its limit."

Elio was struggling to stay seated and not walk out or say something he would most certainly regret.

There were three guards inside, the same ones who had brought him here. He was absolutely certain there would be even more sentries behind those doors. Getting out alive wasn't something he could do.

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

"I asked that from the beginning."

The old man smiled. His grandson really had found himself a rebellious "wife." The defiance Elio displayed pleased him, as it somehow reminded him of his younger self.

"Tell me, young man," Gabriele said. He'd returned to his seat a while ago and leaned back against the leather chair, fixing Elio with inquisitive eyes before continuing his question. "Do you have a romantic partner?"

The boy's expression shifted from stoic and disinterested to one of utter confusion.

In truth, he didn't even have a close friend. Since his second year of middle school, he'd begun distancing himself from those he'd considered friends at the time.

He'd left each of them in the past and continued living a life without forming bonds of friendship with anyone. Much less romantic ones.

The life he'd had alongside his father had taught him that he didn't need anyone by his side. And yet, remembering that he had once felt the need for that person, for their affection and undivided attention, that feeling irritated him. Perhaps because it hadn't been reciprocated, or simply because he hated that part of himself: the part capable of falling in love.

Tch, I truly hate it, he thought, as the sensation he'd buried years ago consumed him from the inside once again.

That person had pulled away from him suddenly. At the time, he couldn't explain his emotions. He'd already left everything behind once to move to a new city, so he didn't understand why the sudden withdrawal of that boy had hurt so much.

"What does that matter?" he snapped. Prying into his love life irritated him.

"It matters more than you think." The hazel-eyed old man leaned toward him with an intimidating gaze, yet one that somehow assured him that nothing would happen to him. "I have a proposal for you, Elio Mancini."

In the end, Vicenzo grew tired of waiting and decided to force his way into the library. His grandfather merely looked at him without showing any displeasure or anger.

"What is the meaning of this, grandfather?"

Vicenzo's eyes traveled back and forth between his grandfather and the young man. Elio, somewhat surprised, was watching him too. Silence reigned in the room. Gabriele rose from his seat and returned the phone and backpack to the boy.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, Elio. I hope we'll see each other again. And give your mother my regards."

"Of course, sir. If you'll excuse me." Elio slung his backpack over his shoulder and stood up. "Excuse me," he said to the confused Vicenzo.

Elio left the library under the bewildered gaze of the hazel-eyed man. Before leaving, he turned slightly and gave a small bow to both men. He rested his blue eyes on the dark-haired man, and after a few seconds, the enormous door closed behind him, its sound echoing through the room.

"Why did you bring him here? He doesn't even know my name and you're already interrogating him. That's too much, grandfather."

"Well, he showed less fear and less confusion when he found out who we are than your little girlfriend of years past, Adele Petrucci."

"Don't compare Adele to that kid. She was like that because I lied to her, grandfather. I made her fall in love with someone who didn't exist."

"And she left you asking for money for the years they'd been together. She even took the engagement ring. Besides, she's the one who caused..."

"That's already been settled! Adele had nothing to do with that. She just wanted security. Don't you remember the bastards from the south kidnapped her? I never thought of blaming her for anything. Giving her everything she asked for was the right thing to do. If I'd been with them, they never would have taken her. Nobody could endure something like that."

"Keep telling yourself that, son." Gabriele dismissed the subject. They'd talked about it before and never reached any conclusion. "And that's where her love for you ended. Don't tell me she never wondered where all those expensive gifts you gave her came from." The elder Di Marco let out a frustrated sigh. "That girl, the only thing she saw in you during those six years was a dollar sign. Back then, I respected your wish not to have her investigated. But now I have to make sure the same thing doesn't happen again."

"Fine, let's say you're right, that she only cared about the money and not me. How is that boy any different? He'd be by my side for the money too."

"The difference is that this time you know it, and he wouldn't be playing games with you. Watching you be miserable years ago, as a Di Marco... it made me sick."

"That's all you care about, isn't it? The family name." Vicenzo fell silent, trying to calm himself. They were both tense; the atmosphere was heavy. After a few seconds, he spoke again. "Besides, I don't understand the need to get married."

"It's time you give us an heir."

The seriousness in his grandfather's words caught him off guard. However, as soon as those words registered in his mind, a thunderous laugh echoed through the library.

"Grandfather," he said, catching his breath, "Elio Mancini is a man, in case you forgot... he can't conceive."

"Of course I haven't forgotten. However—" The elder Gabriele walked to the desk and grabbed a yellow envelope. He tossed it to his grandson and said, "Look that over, and then we'll talk."

The more he read, the more interesting Elio Mancini became. Vicenzo looked up at his grandfather. He knew the old man wouldn't be interested in a marriage to a man without some hidden motive.

He furrowed his brow, gave his grandfather one last look, and then left, taking the collected information with him.

...

In the days that followed, Elio had been thinking a great deal about the proposal. It was incredibly tempting, but also quite unreal. He didn't know for certain how much power they held, but thanks to what he'd heard from his mother, he knew they were influential people, both in the world of the mafia and in politics and finance.

At first, he tried not to think too much about it. He was barely more than a boy, and getting married wasn't part of his life plan, much less to someone he didn't even know.

However, his family's debts from his mother's illness were becoming increasingly unsustainable. His older brother shouldered the bulk of the debt. Elio did what he could to help, as did Luka, his other older brother. The youngest sister only focused on her studies, and he knew little about his second sister.

He could spend nights without sleeping, turning the same issue over and over in his mind.

They had given him two weeks to think about it. He had definitely rejected it at first, but even so, the old man had given him a second chance to reconsider carefully.

He kept asking himself why a man like that would want to marry another man. Elio didn't have the profile of a rich kid, nor did he belong to a powerful family. There was no benefit in marrying him.

Besides, he knew what life was like for mafia wives, and he definitely didn't want to live that way. Still, he knew perfectly well that he couldn't afford university on his own.

He had decided to take a year off before enrolling so he could save as much as possible. Tuition was expensive, both enrollment and semester fees. Elio dreamed of graduating from the most prestigious university in the city. With a scholarship he could make it happen, but he also didn't want to leave his brother alone with the debts. It was stressful thinking about all of it. Studying medicine had always been his dream. Before, he'd even considered entering a military academy and specializing in medicine, but due to his family background, that had proved impossible.

He'd had it all planned out, but he knew that during his residency he'd have to stop working. On top of that, his younger sister was also about to start university, and since she didn't work, their brother and mother would help her.

Things didn't look easy, and the circumstances were increasingly pushing him to accept. Nonetheless, Elio was a person with deeply rooted principles, and accepting a marriage for money definitely violated every single one of them.

Elio let out a sigh as he leaned against the counter at the cinema. Despite going out to distract himself and stop thinking about the Di Marco patriarch's proposal, he couldn't do it.

"How frustrating," he whispered.

He let the air out of his lungs as he lifted his face and ate some popcorn. It had been a while since he'd set foot in a movie theater. Elio didn't go out much. Being surrounded by people made him deeply uncomfortable.

From the crowd, a pair of friends recognized him. They both approached the distracted Elio.

"Elio?"

Elio turned around to find two very familiar faces. They had been his friends during middle school, even before that. However, he'd distanced himself from them years ago. He never expected to see them again, much less that they would speak to him first. Elio had cut off their friendship abruptly; they'd stopped seeing each other, and they had never contacted him.

"Oh, Gianni, Enrico, what... what a surprise."

Elio recognized his voice immediately, along with the lilac-and-white hair that was Gianni's trademark. And the familiar figure beside him: Enrico, who wore the same expression as always, one that didn't reveal much of his personality. His black hair with some green streaks was somewhat long.

They looked a bit taller than the last time he'd seen them. Even Gianni, who had been a little shorter than him in the past, now seemed taller, though he was still smaller than Enrico. Apparently, they still had the same taste in fashion: baggy clothes in dark tones, mostly black, boots, and silver accessories like chains, earrings, rings, or piercings.

They smiled at him warmly, especially Gianni, who had never dared hope he'd see him again. Gianni, or "little busybody" as Elio used to call him, had always been the closest to him. They had known each other since childhood and had stayed together through middle school.

Gianni and Enrico sat down and tried to chat with him, but he didn't want to have anything to do with them again. He was supposed to have left all those feelings of affection behind. But in that moment, all he wanted was to get his thoughts out of his head.

Still, telling them everything that was happening could come across as overwhelming and strange. After all, it had been years since the three of them had last been together.

They started talking about trivial things. They tried to catch up on each other's lives. Enrico, who had been in the same class as Elio in middle school, began telling him about their classmates from that time. Gianni also told him about classmates who'd had a "friendship" with him in the past.

Elio just kept glancing at his watch, impatient, wishing time would fly. But the clock seemed determined to stay on the same minute even after an hour.

"I think I have to go now. The movie I'm going to see is about to start."

"Oh, right," Gianni said. "Give us your contact info so we can get together another time."

Elio thought about it for a few seconds, but in the end, he pulled out his phone and gave them his number. He wasn't sure they'd actually reach out, but he did it anyway.

...

After that unexpected encounter with his old friends, Elio found himself remembering the moments spent alongside those two boys he'd met when he first moved there. He'd met Gianni first, who lived in the same building, one floor below. He was barely seven when he moved there, and they quickly became friends. He met Enrico a couple of years later at school. Although Enrico was already an old friend of Gianni's, at first Elio didn't like him at all. But they soon became friends, and from that day on, they were inseparable.

Remembering all of that gave him a headache, even more so knowing that they knew about his real life, not just the image he'd tried to project since childhood. He had always been careful to make sure no one associated him with the Mancinis, or that others found out about the life they led. But he couldn't hide it from them, and even though they'd helped keep his secrets, he had never fully trusted them.

Elio was so immersed in memories and feelings from the past that he nearly forgot about the elder Di Marco's proposal entirely.

It wasn't until Friday that a message reminded him. He was in his room getting dressed, having just gotten out of the shower minutes before. He put on comfortable clothes. His room was tidy, the white light dim. He liked the peace of darkness. There were several books on his desk and a few more on a small bookshelf. Though it might not seem like it at first glance, Elio enjoyed literature.

His phone buzzed a couple of times. He'd decided to ignore it because he was about to have dinner, but he grabbed it to check the notification. When he turned it on, he had many notifications from various social media apps, but the one that caught his attention was the message he'd just received.

In the notification bar, he read the message from an unknown number. His expression changed instantly. Elio no longer had time to keep deliberating. The next day, he'd have to give an answer, and he hadn't told his family anything yet.

He turned off his phone, slipped it into his pocket, and headed to the dining room.

Elio paused to look at his family at the table. He saw his mother serving the food, his younger sister arguing with the neighbor's son (she babysat him occasionally), and his older brother focused on his phone. Carlo couldn't even rest from work at home.

He let out a sigh and walked in with a smile.

Despite not having many friends, Elio was close to his family. He was certain they would help and support him in whatever decision he made.

Even though he was afraid of being threatened by the Di Marcos.