The Return Of The Mafia Lord

003

Xavier was sixteen years old when he ran away from home. Living with his family was no good for him. His parents were addicts and they never took care of him. He was done with being the one struggling to take care of them. Surviving in the city of New York alone was hard until he met Alessandro Esposito,a Mafia Lord from Italy who was starting a new family in New York. Initially, Xavier had tried to steal from his warehouse and he got caught. Instead of being punished like every other thief, Alessandro saw the fire in his eyes and took him in. Soon he became part of their family and as a fast learner, Xavier soon became Alessandro's favourite.

At the age of Twenty two,he became Alessandro's right hand man and at the age of Twenty seven when Alessandro found out about his cancer,he handed over the reins to Xavier because he trusts him enough to lead the family just as he would want.

Everyone in the family was happy except one person, Gabriele Esposito, Alessandro's adopted son. On the night of Xavier's wedding the daughter of Alessandro,Alessia,Gabriele destroyed the family with his little accomplices. They killed Alessia and Alessandro while Xavier barely escaped after he was shot in the head…..

A sharp slap to his face jolted David back to the world with his head pounding.

"Are you there?" a woman's voice screamed at him, and another slap followed, stinging his cheek.

“What the fuck?” he thought, but the words were trapped in his head.

"I can still feel his pulse, so he's not dead," the voice said again, and David’s body convulsed as he coughed out the water he had swallowed. He pushed himself up before the woman would try slapping him again.

He wasn't David. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. He wasn't a poor delivery man who had found himself in a bad situation. He was Xavier. The heir to a mafia empire, betrayed and left for dead. Bella Vendetta was his, and he was coming for it all.

His head cleared, the fog of amnesia replaced with cold, hard clarity. This was his life now. A life of power, vengeance, and ruthless ambition. The past three years were the time he allowed Gabriele to do as he wanted. Now, it was time to reclaim his throne and make every single person who betrayed and destroyed his family beg for their lives.

He was on a rocky shore, the woman who'd fallen with him was on her knees, her face a mask of anger.

"Finally, you're awake!" she snapped, and before he could react, she hit him on the side of his head with a surprising amount of force. "Now, you're going to compensate me for pushing me down a fucking cliff!"

Xavier's training, the one he had forgotten but his body remembered, took over. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the neck in a vice-like grip. Her eyes widened, her hands scrabbling at his head, trying to break free. But as he looked at her face, his grip loosened. A wave of emotion, raw and overwhelming, washed over him. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

Somehow,she reminded him of his late wife, Alessia. The woman he failed to protect. There was a little resemblance.

He released her instantly, stumbling back, his hands trembling. The woman stumbled away, gasping for air, her hand clutching her throat. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled, her voice a furious rasp. "Is that what I get for saving your life?"

There was definitely no resemblance. He must have been out of his mind to think a woman being that aggressive,loud and angry looked a bit like Alessia.

"I didn't beg you to save me," he shot back, his voice now cold, devoid of any emotion.

She scoffed, a mixture of disbelief and fury on her face. "You're a damn ungrateful man! You would have bled to death if I hadn't used my scarf to stop the bleeding!”

He looked down at his shoulder, and a faint pang of surprise shot through him. The bleeding had stopped, thanks to a makeshift bandage fashioned from a torn piece of fabric. It was truly her scarf. He grumbled a low "thank you,"

She just scoffed and stood up,dusting off her damp clothes. "Just shut it and stop irritating me," she muttered, shaking her head. "I can't believe this is my life. First a bad day at work then I get pushed off a cliff. What a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

She turned to walk away, but Xavier, acting on pure instinct, grabbed her leg. She looked down at him with a mix of disgust and fury. "What do you want now?" she snapped, trying to pull away.

"Your phone," he said, his voice firm. "I need to make a call."

With his memories back, he knew there was only one person he could trust, the only person who could get him back on his feet. The man who managed Alessandro's secret funds—a man only Alessandro and Xavier knew about.

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound filled with pure venom. "My phone? I might still have my phone if someone didn't push me in the fucking water!”

"Why are you being so difficult?" he yelled back, standing up and towering over her. "I just need your help right now! I'll pay you back!"

She looked him up and down, a sigh of exasperation escaping her lips. "I know my life is a mess," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "but looking at your clothes and the fact you were just shot, I'm pretty sure you're more pathetic than I am. You probably got shot trying to steal. How is someone like you going to pay me back?"

"Just trust me," he insisted, his voice unwavering. "I will definitely pay you back." He paused, his gaze fixed on her. "And... I need you to let me stay at your place just for tonight. Going back home is definitely not an option. Just help me with this one thing, and I'll make it right by you"

She rolled her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath. But despite her words, she turned and started walking away. "Fine. Just follow me.”

"Wait," he called after her, his voice softer now. "What's your name?"

She didn't stop or even turn around, just waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder. "Ari," she said, the name tossed back at him as if it were an afterthought.

After taking a cab,they finally reached her apartment building. It was way better than the place Xavier himself had been sleeping when he thought his identity was David. Inside, the apartment was a whirlwind of chaos. Clothes were draped over chairs, and books were stacked precariously on every surface. It was a mess. Ari gestured vaguely toward a couch buried under a pile of laundry.

"Have a seat," she said, pushing a stray sock off the cushion.

Xavier just stared, a faint look of disgust on his face. He shook his head and waited for her to clear a space. With a sigh of frustration, she scooped up the clothes, revealing a small, worn sofa. He sat down, the springs groaning in protest.

Then, Xavier felt the throbbing pain in his shoulder intensify. The bullet was still lodged deep in the muscle, and he knew he couldn't leave it there. He needed to get it out now. He stood up and he began to unbutton his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate.

"I need your help," he said, his voice tight with pain. "The bullet is still in my shoulder. I need you to get it out."

Ari's cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. "What?" she stammered, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and indignation. "How can you ask me to do something like that?"

Xavier, completely unfazed by her reaction, just stared at her blankly. "I'm not asking you to make love to me," he countered, his tone flat. "I'm asking you to remove a bullet. Why are you turning red?"

The directness of his question only deepened her blush. She cleared her throat awkwardly, averting her gaze. "It's… it's not that," she mumbled. "I just... I'm not a doctor. I've never done anything like this before."

“Well there is always a first time”

Despite her hesitation, she led him to her room and then into the small, cluttered bathroom. She couldn't believe she was actually going through with this. Helping a strange, and frankly, rude, man remove a bullet from his shoulder was not how she had envisioned her day ending.

"Do you have any alcohol?" he asked, his voice now a low growl as he sat on the edge of the tub.

"For the wound?" she asked, her voice a nervous squeak.

He nodded. "And a towel, some clean tweezers, and a knife."

With a sigh of resignation, she went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of vodka from her fridge, a clean hand towel, and a knife which she washed with the alcohol then she wiped clean with a paper towel.

"Alright," he instructed, his face a mask of concentration. "First, you pour the vodka on the wound. It's going to burn like hell, but it's the only way to clean it."

She hesitated for a moment, then, with a deep breath, uncapped the bottle and poured the clear liquid over the gaping wound. Xavier's body tensed, and a sharp hiss of pain escaped his lips, but he didn't move.

"Now, the tweezers," he continued, his voice strained. "You'll have to go in deep. I'll tell you when you're close."

Ari's hands trembled as she followed his instructions, her eyes fixed on the bloody hole in his shoulder. She pushed the tweezers into the wound, and Xavier's body convulsed. He let out a loud, guttural scream, and a cold wave of fear washed over her.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No," he grunted, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Keep going. You're almost there."

He continued to scream and swear in pain, each cry more agonizing than the last, but she persevered. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt the tweezers grasp something hard. With a quick, decisive pull, she extracted the bullet. It was a small, deformed piece of metal, covered in blood.

Xavier collapsed back against the wall, breathing heavily, his entire body drenched in sweat.

"I'm done," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She helped him sit up and, with a sigh of relief, began to clean the wound again before bandaging it with a clean towel.

"Thank you," he said, his voice surprisingly soft. He looked at her, his intense gaze unwavering. "I will definitely pay you back."

He then rose, his legs slightly shaky,”Can I use a phone?” He asked.

“There is a landline in the living room,” she replied.

and then walked out of the room, leaving her alone in the bathroom, staring at the bloody bullet in her hand.

When he got to the living room,Xavier walked over to the phone, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up the receiver. He dialed the familiar, seven-digit number—a number etched into his memory. The phone rang once, then twice, before a deep voice answered on the other end.

"Who is this?" the voice asked, sharp and suspicious.

"It's me," Xavier said, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Xavier Stewart.”