Chapter 124
Vitale shook his head with a smile, "Of course not."
The last trace of hopeful smirk on Frand's face vanished.
He didn't argue or explode in anger. Instead, he slumped backward, sinking heavily into the worn-out sofa, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"What is this? You broke my nose, kicked my stomach so hard it still hurts, and I nearly lost my fingers."
"And now, you turn around and want to throw me into that anti-Mafia lunatic asylum as an undercover agent?" Frand turned his head, looking at Vitale with eyes still tinged with madness but now mostly filled with helplessness, "You know, Vitale, if I go a few months without a woman, I'll die. Physically, I'll wither. Mentally, I'll break down. You should send Victor instead. That guy's like a monk—months without women, no problem at all."
When mentioning Victor's name, Frand's tone carried a subtle hint of probing and comparison.
Victor was Vitale's cousin, the complete opposite of Frand's reckless and wild nature. The two had never gotten along.
Hearing Frand's complaints, Vitale let out a short, cold laugh.
"Victor can hold back, but that organization isn't full of good people, Frand. From what I know, they've recruited a bunch of low-life thugs, broke gamblers, even guys fresh out of prison, as long as they claim to hate the Mafia."
"It's a mixed bag in there, lots of rough men. Victor wouldn't last two days before raising suspicion. But you..."
Vitale looked down at Frand with a commanding gaze, "You're like someone who crawled straight out of hell. You know how to deal with scum, how to gain their trust, even how to handle their weird quirks."
"You need women? Over there, you can find other ways to deal with it, or learn to hold back. It's part of the job."
Frand closed his eyes and let out a heavier sigh this time, "You make a lot of sense."
Vitale didn't say more. He walked to the warehouse door and muttered a few quiet instructions to someone outside.
Soon, two men in black suits, carrying medical kits, walked in silently.
They were Vitale's men, well-trained and tight-lipped.
One started tending to the small cuts on Vitale's left palm and other minor scrapes on his body, while the other approached Frand.
The stinging pain from the disinfectant on his wounds made Frand grimace, but he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.
As they cleaned the injuries on his face and stomach, Vitale suddenly spoke up, changing the topic out of nowhere.
"Sonia."
The name made Frand, who was having his bruised stomach pressed on, tense up instantly. He snapped his eyes open, squinting warily at Vitale.
"What are you getting at now?" Frand's voice was defensive, "I only touched Sonia once, just once! I swear!" He rushed to clear his name, even raising his uninjured right hand, "And it was awful. Her screams were so loud, they nearly burst my eardrums. Too wild, too greedy—I couldn't handle it. I cut ties the next day."
Feeling like that wasn't enough, he added with genuine disgust on his face, "And when I found out her weak but sneaky husband was Colt, that little rat, honestly, I felt sick. You get that feeling? Like accidentally biting into a rotten fruit core with a worm inside."
Vitale let his subordinate bandage his hand, his expression unchanged.
"I wouldn't get it," he replied plainly and bluntly, "Because I don't mess around with women. It's my rule. Otherwise, Isabella would make me sleep on the couch for a whole week—no touching her at all. I'd go crazy."
The calm tone carried a piece of information that made the man bandaging Vitale pause for a split second, almost imperceptibly, before focusing even harder on the task as if he hadn't heard a thing.
Frand, however, seemed to find it amusing, momentarily forgetting his pain.
He let the other medic apply gauze to the wound on his face, tilted his head, and let out a light chuckle.
"Oh, really? Sounds like your woman is pretty jealous, huh?" He looked at Vitale with curiosity, "Is it because you're not good enough in bed, and she's unsatisfied, so she punishes you like this? Need some tips from me? Sure, Sonia was a flop, but other women say I'm—"
He didn't get to finish.
Vitale moved, pressing down hard on the wound on Frand's stomach.
Frand let out a pained howl, his face turning pale instantly, sweat beading on his forehead.
All his teasing and taunts disappeared, replaced by raw, physical agony.
"Wrong! I'm wrong! Vitale! Let go! I'm sorry!"
Only then did Vitale slowly release his grip, even wiping his fingers on Frand's expensive silk shirt as if he'd touched something dirty.
"My strength is impressive," Vitale said, his voice still flat but with a hint of pride, "She can barely keep up with me, Frand. Every time, in the end, she's the one begging for mercy."
"You know how well I protect Isabella. I don't even let the winds of Thalassia mess up her hair. But you, Frand, you had your people harass her family, almost letting her sense those dirty shadows. That's not good."
He walked over to Frand and leaned down slightly, "Of course, as for Sonia, you'd better not touch her again. She's trouble, and Isabella really dislikes her. What happened between you two was in the past, so I'll let it slide. But I don't want there to be a next time. Got it?"
The sharp pain from the wound hadn't fully faded, and Vitale's near-commanding warning fueled Frand's anger.
The mix of pain and humiliation stirred the stubbornness and defiance deep in his bones.
"Vitale, I think you're overstepping. Yes, my power isn't as strong as yours right now, my territory isn't as big, and my money isn't as much. But that doesn't mean I, Frand, have to obey every single word you say, down to who I can sleep with."
Vitale straightened up. Hearing this, not only did he not get angry, but a cold smile slowly spread across his face.
That smile seemed to drop the room's temperature by a few degrees.
"You can choose not to listen, Frand."
"Go ahead and try. Then, starting today, from this very moment, I'll use every resource I have to destroy every single business under your name, cut off every income stream, and poach every halfway-decent man you've got. When your empire is reduced to rubble, and you're like a stray dog with nowhere to go..."
Vitale paused, his smile growing deeper and more ruthless, "Or, I could do it another way. I could lock you and Sonia in a soundproof room together for a month."
"With Sonia's wild appetite, I think she'd drain every ounce of your energy, maybe even your life. Which option sounds better to you?"
The color drained completely from Frand's face.
From Vitale's eyes, he knew this man meant every word.
He was absolutely capable of it and had countless ways to make his life a living hell.
Frand raised both hands in a gesture of complete surrender.
"Alright, alright, you win, Vitale," he said, defeated, "I give up. I'll go. I'll seriously take on this damn undercover job. Happy now?"
The icy look on Vitale's face softened slightly, but his scrutinizing gaze didn't waver.
Frand licked his dry, cracked lips and asked the most critical question, "But you've got to give me some guarantees. I'm not an idiot, Vitale."
"Going into a place like that is like handing over half my life. I need to know, if I get exposed or I'm about to die, will someone get me out? Or at least, let me die knowing what's going on?"
Vitale had already tidied up his appearance. Aside from the bandage on his left palm and a faint bruise on his face, he looked like the calm, authoritative business tycoon he always was.
He walked to the door, paused at Frand's words, and without turning back, spoke softly but clearly.
"Of course. I'll ensure your safety. There'll be someone outside to back you up, and a specific way to contact me—only you and I will know it. If you get critical information or face life-threatening danger, use that method to reach me."
"I'll send someone to handle it. But remember, you only get one chance, and it has to be based on verified, real intel. Don't test my patience or treat my help as an escape route."
Vitale opened the door, the dim light from the corridor outlining his tall figure.
"I'm leaving. This territory is under your control for now. Clean it up, and don't let annoying flies sneak in."
He was referring to people like Jackson, who didn't know their place, or other potential headaches.
Frand struggled to get up from the sofa, the pain in his stomach slowing him down.
"Wait," he called out to Vitale, asking one last question, "So, when do I start? When do I infiltrate?"