ON TERMINOLOGIES:
Meanings of words/phrases with a (*) can be found in the Glossary of Mafia-Related Terminology.
Chapter 2-4's Umore are:
♪ Front Yard by Trixie Muff
♪ I Feel Like Shit by X Lovers
♪ to be alone by Talkie
Link to the Spotify playlist: https://tinyurl.com/yyj9cx5q
The first time Samuel had met Giovanni Mancuso, he was certain the man was a dominant Alpha. Strong-willed, adaptable, and never the type to rely on anybody else, the Lone Wolf was so unlike what he was made to believe about Omegas.
Giovanni Mancuso can be ruthless toward his enemies and can destroy anybody who ever crosses him. On the other hand, he can be extremely loyal and fair-minded to those whom he considers his companions. The Lone Wolf would always act on his strongest desires, doing whatever he wants without restraints nor inhibitions. And because he refuses to be trampled on by anyone, many fear to cross paths with him.
So it was a great surprise when the valet discovered that his master is, in fact, part of the most discriminated cluster of society. That the strongest man he'd known his whole life could break open his narrow perspectives.
But for Giovanni Mancuso, his being an Omega wasn't the greatest adversity he needed to overcome. No. The man simply could not get away from his past and the treacherous world he's living in.
Samuel had only heard bits and pieces of it, but his master was once a Capo for a powerful borgata. Yet somehow, he got away from it all - alive with barely a scratch on him.
Being an outsider himself, the valet doesn't fully understand the inner workings of the Cosa Nostra, though he knew from stories and the news just how hard getting out of it can be. In fact, there are many things and reasons that could keep people from getting out of the mob.
But even though it can be extremely difficult, this doesn't mean it's impossible. Giovanni Mancuso is a living example of that fact.
Samuel once thought that maybe, Mr. Mancuso is one of the lucky ones. But as he got to know the man better, he realized that perhaps he couldn't entirely free himself from whatever had shackled him in the past. Perhaps the man was even more dangerous than any other mafioso in the city, and even more attached to the underworld than anybody else...
And because of that, the Lone Wolf had become a truly suspicious and cynical kind of man, not given to believe that everyone is worth trusting. Whatever he'd experienced in the past had surely shaped him to become the distrustful man that he is now.
Maybe only time can soften the man's resolve. Slowly but surely.
Yet the fact remains that no matter how hard the Lone Wolf tries to steer clear of the pitfalls of being Omega, it's a huge setback that continues to drag him down. It's his pride and shame.
Samuel had seen his master in his lowest of lows, and it's during his estrus periods that his vulnerable side was laid bare.
The Lone Wolf's true prison is his own body and unlike the Cosa Nostra, there is no escape from it.
Gianni's condition was a little peculiar. The man remains to be an unregistered Omega residing in New York which, by all accounts, is as illegal as everything else attached to his name. And since only city-registered Omegas can avail regulated heat suppressors, Gianni had to turn to a "confidant" to supply him with what he needed.
Susanna Guillere had been a back-alley doctor since the moment she received her medical license. She found the thrill and passion she sought by treating the ill, the wounded, and the dying. But unlike most medical professionals, mafiosi and criminals make up her entire clientele.
Dr. Guillere was almost always the only medical recourse available for the denizens of underworld New York, and this was how Gianni winded up turning to her for his heat suppressants.
Sure enough, she was able to supply him with what he needed. Only that the suppressants, much like most of her tools and equipment, were funded by organized crime and were connected to the black market.
They were fast-acting heat suppressant injectables that, for the most part, were far more potent than a regular state-approved suppressant. It could shorten a 7-day heat to just a couple of days, allowing Gianni to get back to work without much hassle.
The only problem is that the side effects could be just as problematic as the heat itself. And for Gianni, it came in the form of unpredictable heat cycles that often cause him to release more than the usual amount of pheromones.
Withdrawal symptoms are just as bad and when Gianni misses a single dose, the heat could last as long as 10 days in the next cycle, and would have him constantly leaking pheromones that could even trigger a false rut among Betas.
Thinking about it now, it comes as no surprise to Samuel why the injectables haven't been approved by the state yet. Not only is it unstable, it could endanger its users and the people around them. Clearly, the only option left if you're desperate and an unregistered Omega – and Giovanni Mancuso happens to be both.
At 3 in the morning, Samuel arrived back at the Manhattan townhouse after his quick trip to East Hampton - carrying with him Gianni's medication kit.
Having worked for the Lone Wolf for two years now, the valet had already set a mental alarm for his master's heat cycles. Sometimes he'd miss it by a couple of weeks, other times he'd miss a full cycle. It's when the symptoms are the worst. But for some strange reason, his master was going through a full-blown heat even when he'd only missed his cycle by a week. Samuel wondered if the heat suppressants would work.
After only three hours of sleep, the valet got up to prepare breakfast with the things his master knew would want after a night of full-blown heat: coffee, toast, and mixed fresh fruits.
He'd been thinking about going up to give Gianni his shots when a soft tap at the kitchen door broke his reverie. He stared up.
Silvio poked his head around the doorframe, waiting to be invited in. "Good morning," he greeted. "I'm just about to head out."
The valet looked surprised at first, and then altogether uncaring. "Well, don't let me keep you, if you got somewhere else you need to be."
Silvio leaned in the doorway as he watched Samuel pull a couple of bananas from the fruit basket atop the refrigerator. He scratched his neck, hesitating. "Gianni's heat, uhm..." He paused as he toiled behind Samuel, inviting himself into the kitchen. "Yesterday was pretty bad for him, huh. You should probably convince him to take his suppressants soon. The guy just won't listen to me."
Samuel placed the bananas on the counter, along with some green and red apples. For a moment, he stared at Silvio with a stony expression, then dropped his gaze thoughtfully as he peeled open a banana.
"I've got it covered," he replied, his voice deadpan.
Silvio pulled a chair up to the kitchen counter and sat down across from Samuel. "Tell me something, Sam. Gianni's heat has become a little too unstable lately. Is it because of the suppressants?"
The valet pulled out a chopping board, a bowl, and a knife. "It's an unapproved drug, Mr. Masconi. Of course it will mess up his cycle," he replied matter-of-factly as he went to work slicing the apples. "The only way to get the legal ones is to get himself registered in the city. But that's the last thing he'd want to do."
"Then you need to convince him to go and see an Omega specialist. Dr. Guillere can only do so much."
Samuel paused and looked at the other sourly. "Mr. Mancuso's been taking a drug that's not been approved by the Bureau. If you're so eager to expose him and Dr. Guillere to the Feds then please, be my guest. But don't expect to see Mr. Mancuso again. Ever."
Silvio heaved a deep sigh. "You know that's not my point, Sammy. The longer he takes these drugs, the more it'll put his heat to shit. Can't he take those over-the-counter pills at least?"
Samuel reached for the unpeeled banana and started dicing it. "They help calm his nerves, but pills don't work as well as the injectables. And please... stop calling me Sammy." He shot the other a glare before tossing the diced bananas into the bowl. "Why are you talking to me about this, anyway? Why not discuss this with Mr. Mancuso himself?"
"Because I know you're the only person Gianni listens to." Silvio stared at the valet with a serious expression. "I'm not patronizing you. He obviously trusts you enough to have allowed you to stay by his side this long. And we both know how fussy he can be when it comes to company."
Samuel didn't take a man like Silvio Masconi to be the patronizing type. He looked at the other for a moment and his face softened. "We're both Betas. That's the only reason he chose to keep us by his side." He continued slicing the banana.
After a moment of awkward silence, Silvio continued, "Going back to his meds... Please make sure to let Gianni take some morning-after pills, as well. You know... just for precaution."
The valet's face stiffened again as he shot the other a severe look.
Silvio rubbed his nose and snorted. "What? Don't look at me like that. You weren't expecting us to be playing house the whole night, were you?"
Samuel took a firm grip on the knife handle as he lifted his gaze and shared a tense look with Silvio. "If there's anything I couldn't convince Mr. Mancuso, it would be to stop seeing you," he said as bluntly as he could. "I fail to understand why he still wants to keep you around."
The made-man leaned over the kitchen counter and laughed sarcastically. "Tough luck, Sammy. I mean, I really can't blame your master for loving a good dick."
At this, Samuel slammed the blade into the banana, making Silvio wince in surprise.
"Woah, now. Easy on the knife, Sammy," the made-man said as he slowly got up from his chair.
Samuel was running the line between anger and resignation now. Still dicing the banana with more force than necessary, he said, "Sorry. I'm really capable with knives but somehow, my hand gets real unreliable when you're around." He dropped the diced bananas into the bowl then wiped his hands vigorously on his apron before looking up at the made-man, stiff and unsmiling. "Would you like me to see you out, Mr. Masconi?"
"You sure can be heartless, Sammy. Not even gonna' offer me breakfast?"
"I've only prepared food for one person," the valet replied acidly as he showed Silvio to the door. "You said you were leaving?"
Silvio shook his head and sniggered as he grabbed an apple from the counter. "Thanks. I'll be showing myself out," he said as he waved the apple to Samuel's face and went through the door.
Samuel stood at the entryway and watched as Silvio climbed into his Land Rover.
Just before he started the engine, the made-man looked up at the window in Gianni's bedroom, half-hoping to see the man gazing out of it, bidding him good-bye. But there were no lights, with the thick curtains still pulled across.
Silvio looked from the window, and then to Samuel. "Sammy," he called out, "is there any way for you to make him stop taking those shots? It's doing more harm than good to his body."
The valet sighed. "As I said, the symptoms will only get worse if he stops now. His body's become dependent on the drug. That's... just how it is."
The two men shared a quick, uncomfortable glance as Silvio put the key in the ignition and started the car. "Please take care of him for me."
"Of course, Mr. Masconi. That's what I'm here for," the valet replied as he bowed his head slightly. "You best be on your way now." He turned away and walked back inside the townhouse, slamming the door shut behind him.
Stepping on the gas pedal, Silvio shook his head and clicked his tongue critically. "Why is everyone such a brat in this household?" he whispered to himself as he spun the Rover out of the parking lot and drove off down the street.
The worst day in Giovanni Mancuso's life also happened to be the same day he had lost his finger. That one miserable day he'd experienced hell on earth. When he was made to feel all kinds of sorrow no human being deserved to suffer from.
It's been five years alright, but the memory washed clearly through the Lone Wolf's mind as though it had happened just yesterday. It would haunt him in his dream and the agonizing sound of screaming would steal his rest. And then, he would wake up with a start, sweating profusely and gasping for air.
Only then would he realize it was the sound of his own shrill screaming from many years ago.
Gianni heaved a sigh and reluctantly got up from the bed, trying to ignore the searing thoughts that were tumbling around his mind. He knew he'd overslept, but at least it was a Saturday. Nothing important ever came up on weekends, anyway.
The room was bright from the sun seeping through the window. Somehow, Gianni still felt tired and heavy. He felt sore all over. Unlike his recurring dreams, he could only remember bits and pieces of the night before. Yet somehow, his body remembers.
The Lone Wolf knew he was alone in the bed even before he blinked his eyes open, because the sheets beside him were already cold. He and Silvio hadn't gone to sleep until very late, and the man had still been sound asleep when he woke up and walked into the bathroom to take a leak.
Times like this, he didn't like waking up alone, but he wanted to be spared from the whole awkward morning-after encounter with Silvio. And although it had gradually subsided, he was still in heat. He didn't like morning-after sex, either.
Gianni was feeling more like his normal self after a quick shower. He put on fresh clothes and went downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.
The wondrous smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. A relaxing hot drink should calm his nerves, and it's just what Gianni needed. He pulled out a chair and sat hunched over with one elbow on the dining table and fixed himself a cup of coffee. He set the bowl of mixed fruits down and poured some of it onto his plate.
Through the twin glass patio doors overlooking a mini-garden, Gianni could see Samuel busily pruning the hybrid tea roses he'd been tending to since the previous season. The flowers were light pink and shaded with a deep peach in the center. The Lone Wolf hadn't seen such warm and vibrant colors in a flower before. It was nice to see them bloom as the days went by, and it brightened up his otherwise gloomy townhouse.
The valet had already been to East Hampton, seeing as his medical kit was already laid out on the table next to his plate. He slid the kit closer to him, unzipped it, and took out a syringe and a small bottle of white liquid mixture. Fitting a capped needle onto the syringe, Gianni then stretched out his left arm. It was covered with dark blue marks. Some had blackened. Remnants of many longstanding intrusions into his arm.
He then took out a blue tourniquet from his kit and tied it around his arm. Clenching his fingers, he tapped on his forearm, found one straight vein, took the cap off the syringe with his teeth, then slowly pierced the needle into his skin.
In that tiny space of time, Gianni plunged it beyond the blue vein, releasing more than two-thirds of the heat suppressant. He made a low noise in his throat as he watched the drug in the syringe empty into his vein. And then, slowly, he pulled it out and set the syringe on the table.
With a sigh of relief, Gianni leaned back in his chair and gently rubbed his arm as he put the bottle back into his medical kit. He was already used to this routine, almost like taking a daily supplement.
"Good morning, Mr. Mancuso." Samuel's voice broke the silence. He pulled off his hat and gloves before stepping back into the kitchen.
"You should've called for me. I could've done it for you," he said, eyes shifting to the used syringe on the table. "How are you feeling today?"
"Shitty," the Lone Wolf replied as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead, "and in need of a smoke."
Samuel washed his hands and smiled. "Not until you've had your breakfast, Sir." He pulled a pitcher out of the fridge and poured apple juice into a glass. "Freshly squeezed apple juice. I heard it's better than coffee to help you stay awake without the jitters."
Gianni accepted the glass. "Thanks. I think I kept a pack of Marlboros over there," he said, pointing to a wooden cupboard right behind the valet.
With a heavy sigh, Samuel shook his head as he went to the cupboard and took out the pack of cigarettes.
"Did you see Silvio leave earlier today?" the Lone Wolf asked as he pulled a cigarette out and placed it between his lips.
The valet nodded. "Left about an hour ago."
Gianni produced a stainless steel Zippo lighter from his pants pocket. With a flourish, he lit his cigarette then clicked the lid closed with a flick of his wrist. The strangely pleasant odor of lighter fluid and tobacco shot up his nostrils. Enjoying the lingering scent, he puffed away and shoved the lighter back in his pocket.
"Did he leave a message?" he asked.
Samuel shook his head as he put the pitcher back in the fridge. "Just told me to remind you to take your medicine." He turned around and waved a small plastic bag containing round, gray-colored tablets. "Including this."
Gianni gave the other a vaguely chagrined look as he reached for the morning-after pills in Samuel's hand. "Why does he keep insisting that I take these? I'll be fine without them."
Despite his objections, he took out a tablet, popped it in his mouth, and rinsed it down with the apple juice.
"I have to agree with Mr. Masconi," said Samuel. "You need to take better care of yourself. You have to carry your suppressants and pills with you at all times, Sir. After all, you tend to have these precipitous and irregular heat periods more often than before."
The Lone Wolf glanced up at the valet before dropping his gaze again. For a moment, he sat there staring at his plate, his forehead lined. "I think it was contact heat this time."
Samuel pulled up a nearby chair and sat across from Gianni. "Contact heat?"
Gianni nodded hesitantly, then forked a piece of banana as his eyes snapped from the fruit to Samuel. "There was... an Alpha."
The valet's brow furrowed in confusion. "At the Rossi estate? Were they in a rut?"
The Lone Wolf shook his head no. "He's... He's someone I used to know. And his pheromones... There's something about it that..." His voice trailed off as he took a bite of the fruit and set his fork back down on the plate. "I don't know. It's probably nothing." He took another long puff from his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke up in the air.
Samuel studied the other's face for a moment and thought he saw shame and resentment.
"You connected with an Alpha," he said. It wasn't really a question. More of a declaration.
"Instinct," the Lone Wolf hastily corrected the other. "It was nothing more than instinct."
"But it was there. You connected."
"Any unbonded Omega would connect to an unbonded, highly dominant Alpha."
Samuel paused. "So you know this Alpha well."
Gianni sighed and closed his eyes. Right. Me and my big mouth.
"It's contact heat, Sam," he reiterated. "It's brought on simply by being in the same place with an unbonded Alpha – and just when I'm within my heat cycle." His lips twisted slightly as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth. "It's instinct. Simple biology. No connection other than the man had a cock that could fill my womb."
And with that, he put an abrupt end to that part of their conversation.
The cigarette smoke hung thickly in the kitchen, now completely overpowering the lingering scent of Omega pheromones. Though Samuel hated the stink of tobacco, it made him feel relieved now that he knew the heat suppressant was working its magic on his master.
Samuel leaned his elbows on the table. "I don't mean to pry into your personal affairs, Sir. I may not always be on the same page as Mr. Masconi, but I know enough to understand he's genuinely concerned about you." He rubbed his palm over his nape and dropped his gaze thoughtfully. "I'm... not exactly sure if it's a good thing but, I'm glad it's Mr. Masconi and not someone else who's helping you get through this difficult thing."
Gianni grinned, genuinely surprised and amused at the valet's remarks. "He's a good fellow, that Silvio. He may look rough on the outside, but... he can be a real charmer." He chuckled before adding, "Kind of like a Dobermann." He reached for the empty ashtray on the kitchen counter, took another drag on his cigarette, and flicked the ash into the tray. "I hope it's not too much to ask but, I want you guys to get along."
The valet couldn't help but let out an inelegant snort at his master's request. "I'll consider it. But that's only if he stops calling me 'Sammy'," he quipped as he slowly got up from the chair. "Oh. Before I forget, Sir, a certain Ms. Calhoun called several minutes ago. From the Veronesi family."
Gianni felt his stomach tighten and his heart drop.
"She's asked me to remind you of an e-mail," Samuel continued. "Says it's an urgent matter with their boss."
The Lone Wolf gave a mental cringe. Word sure spreads fast, especially among the mob. He wouldn't be surprised at all if half of its denizens already knew where he was planning to spend his vacation in.
"That fast?" he said to himself, sighing as he gestured to his laptop, where it sat closed next to his car keys on the mini-bar.
"I'll be in my room if you need me, Sir," said the valet as he retrieved the laptop and handed it to Gianni, who immediately opened it.
Gianni nodded absently, already engrossed in whatever's on his laptop screen. "Uh-huh," he muttered. "Got it. Thanks, Sam."
The valet retired to his room and slipped out of the kitchen as quietly as he could, leaving his master to deal with his business.
Gianni put out his nearly spent cigarette in the ashtray and pulled out another, this time removing its filter. It became a habit for him to do so, as he came to enjoy the much stronger kick, and how it was easier to take bigger and deeper puffs from an unfiltered cigarette.
It's been a couple of days since he'd last looked at his e-mails, and there were three unread messages, including an encrypted one with a subject line that read: 'Urgent request". He opened it first.
The encrypted mail bore the Veronesi family's coat-of-arms: a helm and a shield with four 8-pointed stars at the center. The motto, "Weave trust with trust", was written below it.
The Lone Wolf scoffed as he lit his second cigarette.
Nothing could be further from the truth, he thought to himself.
He scrolled down to read the message:
The Don would want a word with you about a clip. Name your price. More info when you visit the estate and accept the Detail. Wednesday at 1900 hrs.
Delete after reading.
As expected, the Lone Wolf was given no other option but to comply. And if he ever chose to ignore the message, he can expect to see made-men banging on his door in the coming days.
A job is a job, he said to himself. And if it rakes in a huge sum of money, then he can overlook the fact he hates doing business with someone like Don Luca Veronesi.
He could only hope he won't regret it this time...
As with any encrypted e-mail, Gianni deleted it right away and went to the next series of unread messages.
Thunderstruck. Gianni remained still for a while, staring at the laptop screen with a blank expression on his face. He read the subject of the first unread e-mail and his heart skipped a beat.
He immediately recognized the address. He hadn't expected to see it pop up in his inbox again after so many years.
He straightened back in his chair and quietly puffed his cigarette, contemplating whether or not he should open the mail at all.
Five seconds. Ten. Thirty seconds have passed. It seemed like forever.
Gianni hovered the mouse pointer over the message, fingers shaking, moving back and forth over the 'Open' button. A couple of minutes later, he clicked it open.
The De Laurentiis family crest immediately appeared on the screen, followed by a one-liner that seemed to speak volumes:
Giovanni
Out of shock and a nagging sense of curiosity, the Lone Wolf found himself opening the next e-mail, which read:
How are you, Gi? I missed you at La Aiuola today. Is there any way I can see you? Any way for me to find out if you're doing OK?
I think about you every day, Gi. Wherever you are, I sincerely hope you're doing fine.
The cigarette was still dangling from Gianni's mouth. As he moved his head, a bit of ash fell onto the table. He took the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out in the ashtray, then moved his hands over the laptop keyboard.
Don't respond. Delete it now. You promised never to talk to him again. Pretend you didn't see them.
He took a deep breath, running his fingers thoughtfully over his lips.
But I should at least tell him not to contact me again. That should do, right?
He shook his head and clenched his fists.
This is why I hate those goddamned social gatherings!
He got up from his chair and looked out into the mini-garden. Samuel's tea roses, which earlier had brought him some sense of relief and serenity, could not even distract him from the turmoil of his mind.
Every single word in the e-mail ran through Gianni's head. He tried to shake them off, tried to forget them, struggling to deny the fact they had come from Alessio De Laurentiis.
Why would you still think about me? Why would you want to get in touch with me? Why now, after all these years? You were the one who pushed me away. You took away something precious to me. Took away the only thing left that matters. I want it back, and that's the only reason you'll see me again - to take back what's rightfully mine!
Once again, thoughts and memories of the past melted away his hesitation, giving way to angry emotions. He turned around and snagged the laptop off the counter, immediately deleted Alessio's mails, and blocked his account for good measure. It's enough stress for Gianni to say he's done dealing with bullshit for the rest of the week.
He hurriedly finished the rest of his breakfast, shut down and closed his laptop, and decided to return to his bedroom.
From his quarter, Samuel stuck his head out and watched as Gianni headed upstairs.
"Everything alright, Sir?"
Gianni tucked the laptop under his arm and opened the bedroom door. "Yes, Sam," he replied, peering into the foyer. "I'll be staying home today but don't prepare lunch for me. I'll see you later tonight." He stepped into his room and closed the door behind him with a loud click.
Once inside, Gianni slid down the door and groaned, covering his face with one arm.
He decided once and for all that, when he closes the deal with the Veronesis, he's going to take that much-needed break. He needed to get away from it all. He needed to get out of New York.
And then, he'll be perfectly fine. He'll be back on his feet once more, taking over his normal duties again, stronger than ever before.
Gianni remained angry and frazzled for the rest of the day, so he distracted himself from his own muddled thoughts and feelings by focusing on the matter at hand: Choosing the right weapons and cleaning them for his next big kill.
TO BE CONTINUED.
