Hey, how long has it been? *tehe* *runs and hides*

~IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS~

Squalo got some very old issues to sort out with the head of SLW, Vito Giordano, and he's dragging the young Lambo Bovino with him. Meanwhile Xanxus is enjoying his time away from his lover as much as he can.

The following scene is featuring Xanxus in his gloomy Roma office for his Europen HQ. Big black and white tiles on the floor, covering the fifty square meters space, old oak wooden furniture scattered under the ten meters or so high ceiling; and daylight that just seems to never be willing to hit the raven's tanned face.

"Now how much did they ask?" With his back leaning in his giant leather throne, his eyes closed, Xanxus inquired in a low, deep and undisturbed tone, which nonetheless had the merit to make the hair on the neck of everyone in his office stand up.

It was early in the morning (it was already 11, but for anyone that had known Xanxus for more than one week, 11am was very early), and it was a very rare sight to be witnessed in Xanxus's office: to actually see Xanxus in his office. Well, at some point, the raven had to do some actual work. For more than fifteen years, Iemitsu had been in charge for everything that was closely or remotely related to VR Co's business, and before him, when the old man was alive, it was his adoptive father, Timoteo, who used to manage everything. Xanxus had always been the epitome of the idle, spoiled and depraved heir that no one could ever scold, at the risk of having the teenager mysteriously disappearing overnight.

Squalo would positively say that Iemitsu found a first-class sucker when the latter gave him his position as Xanxus' new consigliere.

But now the silverette wasn't by his side – and literally no one could deal with their business as well as him, even though he'd been into it for barely a year. Xanxus had to step in if he didn't want the other fucktards to wreck their ship.

Ironically, that last incident in Roma kind of left a very vivid – and disgusting – taste in the tanned man's brains. For the nth time in his short life, Xanxus vowed he wouldn't touch a drop of booze anymore. However, unlike the n minus 1 times before, he kept his promise.

As a consequence, that day was the first time since his teenage years Xanxus had gone completely sober and drug-free seventeen hours in a row. The tanned man not only decided that booze was messing badly with his head lately, but he also began truly thinking that maybe, from time to time, having a well-balanced diet wouldn't kill him – at least the risk wouldn't be higher than whisky for breakfast, vodka for lunch and tequila for dinner. Instead, the raven demanded that he be served his meals at precise hours; a strict, tasty, refined diet that the silverette undoubtedly would have provided him with if the latter hadn't been that busy with work lately.

A very optimist person would say that it was certainly the most romantic thing the Boss had ever done for someone, that is, finally minding for his health to live longer together with their significant one. For Xanxus, it was a caprice more than anything else. Yeah, after all, who gives a fuck about that asshole, huh? Xanxus was literally the King of that side of the world. He could (and he would) survive without that fucker around him.

At any rate, everyone – including, and mostly Xanxus' liver – welcomed that initiative with great joy in their heart… until the Boss actually decided that the best way to divert his mind from booze and boredom (since the silver haired beauty wasn't there), was to see how his neglected company was going on. Because, truth is, if on one hand Squalo was loud and scary in his approach with work, on the other hand Xanxus would not waste his time talking, arguing or even trying to reason with the peasants. And that, as a matter of fact, was way scary than seeing the gorgeous silverette glaring at you with his sharp, catlike eyes, and calling you names (but, hey, he knew you existed).

Much less of a turn on, too.

Xanxus suddenly groaned. His usual army of lawyers, Executive team, buttlickers and hounds of hell started. Lussuria poured water in the CEO's glass. Everyone sighed with relief. But the respite had to be short-lived because as soon as the Boss was done drinking, he violently tossed his glass on the floor. The sound of the shattered glass echoed in the room.

"Yeah, I'm waiting." Xanxus hissed. "How much did that motherfucker asked this time?"

"Boss," one of the minions (a monotone middle aged man in a monotone beige suit) raised his hand, "I think the Senator Passafiume is out of his mind… I mean… Twenty millions! His request this time is absolutely grotesque. Everyone here agrees!" The man looked around him to find some support. Everyone made it sure to avert their eyes. "I know they agree! What are we? His personal sponsor to get him and his friends reelected? Come on! My idea is that we send back our agent to the Senator's place to renegotiate his bill-"

"Hell, yeah, you little piece of human shit are doing that." Xanxus rose his hand. Magically, Lussuria made another glass appear from nowhere and filled it for the tanned man. "Personally."

"Eeh, me?" The beige suit stupidly uttered. "Sir, I'm responsible of communication. I don't even know… I-I thought the National branch was in charge for this part."

"We've already discussed about this and the guys in Financial Dept have agreed to talk to him!" Another minion, this time with a brown ensemble and thick eyeglasses, belted. Those people just didn't want to do their job, did they?

"Yes, we said that," A third minion raised his voice, "We've talked with Mr. Squalo about this matter, then again with him being away for the moment, I don't really see how things can… Er… Sir?"

A dark aura was floating around Xanxus. His head was starting to ache. At some extent, he could accept that when the silverette wasn't around, he virtually couldn't have as much sex as he wanted. But what the dark haired man couldn't understand was, why the fuck it had to impact their job as well. That shit was insane.

Xanxus pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Get out."

"Sir? What are we supposed to do about Passafiume-"

"Get the fuck out!" Xanxus burst. In less than a minute the office was empty again. The only one left were Xanxus, Lussuria and a maid who had taken advantage of the commotion to slip in a side table on top of which the Boss's lunch was already served: the finest steak that could be found in the country, next to which an Agnolotti in Brodo was deliciously fuming, releasing an appetizing smell that would make even the most jaded palate on Earth drool with hunger.

Without much fuss, Xanxus grabbed a fork, a knife, and started digging into the dark red meat. Lussuria was looking at him like how a grandmother is watching her grandchildren eat their homemade meals.

The Brazilian man squeaked as he slightly tilted his sunglasses. "Boss~ I know it isn't the right moment to talk about work but~"

"I'm eating."

"Yes, I can see that. But fact is, what they said earlier is true: this Passafiume man will never agree on anything if we keep on sending him lower ranked agents. He looks like he won't start the negotiations unless someone with Squalo's rank or above talks to him. So isn't it better if you go meet with him, Boss?"

"I'm eating."

"Yes, I can see that." Lussuria turned his iPad on and randomly swiped on the screen. "Passafiume, albeit being one of the most corrupted civil servants I've ever seen, has also a great influence on the Parliament. Boss, you know more than anyone how much we need that law to get approved, otherwise we can kiss goodbye all of our future profits in the Mediterranean Rim. It'd take us at least five years to recover from that blunder."

"The other trash is the one in charge of that case." Xanxus muttered between two bites of steak. "I'll fucking tear his ass apart if that fucking slut thinks I'm here to make up for the shit he left here."

"Maa~ Boss, we're not asking you to do that…" Lussuria giggled. It was always funny to listen to Xanxus talk about his sweetheart. "Just have a little talk with the Senator. Maybe if he sees you he'll be too scared to ask for more. That would be very cost effective, don't you think? Just imagine what Mammon-chan would say if we jeopardized this deal? She'd die from a heart attack! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lussuria snickered even more, with now his hand hiding his mouth in a very soap opera way.

Saying that Xanxus was reluctant to meet with that Senator was a euphemism. But hey, they weren't talking about one or five million dollars. It was a fucking one or five hundred million dollars deal, yearly. If Passafiume agreed to make that law pass, VR Co would become literally ironclad on the Italian soil. A law that would allow the company to indefinitely keep their monopole in the country while being practically bulletproof against lawsuits, making Italy a real haven for VR Co. and VR Co. only… Which businessman in their right mind wouldn't sell their soul to obtain that?

But Xanxus didn't like Passafiume, and for that man, it was more than an acceptable argument to kindly tell that crooked politician to go suck his daddy's dick. Xanxus had always had a poet's soul with a New Jersey dealer's tongue.

Speaking of that part of the world, Xanxus suddenly felt the urge to see some familiar trash's face as some familiar sensation was starting to build up in his pants. He grabbed his phone and dialed the silverette's number. After this, you surely already know how the phone call will turn out. So let's fast forward till about ten minutes later, when Xanxus has finally hung the device off.

Lussuria was beaming at Xanxus, who didn't look like he noticed the gleams coming from the tall Brazilian man. 'Spill the tea' was literally written on his face. Xanxus didn't take the hint, and it was more than likely that he would have never done that as well.

Xanxus sighed. "I'll do it."

"Oooh Boss, that's wonderful! Wait, I'm calling Fredo and Vatz. We'll set an appointment with the Senator's assistant. And also-"

"Shut up, you scumbag." Xanxus grunted. "First get my jet prepared."

"Yes, yes, yes… but for what? If I'm not wrong, Passafiume is still at his residence in the city"

"Trash, I never said I was going to do that."

"Uhm… Mr. Squalo? At this rate, aren't you running late for your rendezvous?" Rambo inquired the silverette as politely as possible.

They were both sitting in the dark haired youth's Lancia, Lambo with his face plastered with his best commercial smile, as per usual, and next to him Squalo, who was dressed in a rather casual heavy wool pea coat and black jeans that were formidably embracing the shape of his slender legs, sitting on the passenger's seat. The older male was more than obviously irate, for some reason; his arms were folded on his chest, his deep grey eyes focused at some unknown point in the dimness of the night. There weren't many things to see, though. It wasn't the typical New York City by night with the noises, the crowds and usual ruckus.

No, that part of the city was rather old and almost deserted. There, all that could been seen in the dim light were tall and old and modest buildings with most of their windows shut in spite of the relatively early hour, some passerbys warmly wrapped up in dark cloaks and parkas walking fast on the pavement, some shop fronts still open, most already closed, cars that might have witnessed the building of the Berlin wall almost thirty years ago parked next to rusted parking meters… There, everything looked like it had been forgotten in the past, as if modernization couldn't reach that part of the town.

It was past 9pm. They were supposed – at least, Squalo was – to arrive at Ferdinando's ristorante one hour ago. And yet, there they were, shut up in Lambo's car, and this for more than one hour now – and this barely fifty hundred meters away from Ferdinando's.

They were so close they could see the lights coming from the restaurant: bright yellowish lights coming from the huge window bays that were standing as walls for the restaurant, and also the big red neon sign fixed on the brick wall between the windows and the roof (and that was actually the only source of lights in the whole area; everything around was just dark, gloomy and muddy). They could see people coming in and out of it, see the crowd steadily increasing and decreasing at the place, and after passing the rush hour, Ferdinando's. And the fact that the restaurant was located right at the corner of the street made it even easier to spot it from afar.

From that distance, Lambo had a clear view of the inside of the ristorante, of the leathered black bench seats, seamed by years, lined against one of the window bays. Behind them, wooden tools which were perfectly matching the warm brick walls – the same color as outside – were neatly arranged in front of the kitchen's counter. Half of them were taken by some customers. However, the person who has requested the rendezvous himself was nowhere to be found. It somehow reassured the dark haired youth. He sighed. He turned the radio on.

Immediately, the words, 'And now I'm rid of her I must confess - To thinking 'bout what might have been - And I can visualize my frog princess - Beneath a shining guillotine' hit the young man's ears. Lambo turned the radio off.

"I'm glad Giordano hasn't arrived yet. Still, you sure you don't want to go there wait for him? I'm sure he w-"

"He's already there." Squalo cut dryly, then clicked his tongue. "That old ass is already there, inside." Squalo turned and pointed at the restaurant's huge glass with his thumb. "He never sits on that side. Not safe enough. He's certainly taken a seat at the other side, where it's hard to aim at from the outside."

That made Lambo flinch. Jesus, they weren't characters in a mafia movie, were they? Why did those people always have to take that kind of precaution even just for a small dinner?

"Well… One more reason to go there now." A deformed grin cracked Lambo's lips.

"Voooi, yeah, I know it, damn it! I know!" Squalo suddenly burst, but a fraction of second later, he froze, as though he had just realized he did something utterly out of place. He slumped against his seat. "I know." The silver head added, with an exasperated whisper, before glaring with annoyance at the younger male. The silverette's frowned eyebrows and somewhat pursed lips made him look like he was pouting. With an inner chuckle, Lambo admitted to himself that that candid expression had something truly endearing.

'What am I even doing in front of that brat?' Was the look he was giving, it seemed to Lambo. Finally Squalo violently opened the car door, and then got out. In no time, his feet had brought him to Ferdinando's entrance. There, Squalo paused for about ten seconds; Lambo could see his breath steaming in white puffs outside as the silverette exhaled deeply while playing nervously with the tip of his bangs (it happened as fast as light, yet Lambo could clearly spot it). Lambo also noticed that the silver haired man would from time to time bring his ring finger on his forehead, again and again, just like how he did in the apartment.

'That must be a tic.' Lambo concluded.

Finally, Squalo got inside. What happened after that, as Belphegor accurately phrased it, had felt as comfortable as a stomach wash-out for the silver haired man.

TBC