The Mafia Lord and his Stripper

Arthur's POV

"He tried to smuggle in drugs. We caught him before he got the chance to plant the bombs," Beck said to his boss, steadying his hand on the pistol strapped to his waist. "I left him in the basement, will you be doing the torturing or I should get on with it?."

Xavier tightened his rope around his firm body, his chest exposed and Beck tried to pry his eyes away. Nobody could blame him, their boss was not an ordinary man.

Xavier leaned against the doorframe of his expensive multi dollar room. The place they were currently at wasn't his personal home but the building where his gang members stayed. Being a Mafia lord, he had to separate his personal life from what he did generally. He had reasons for it, reasons he didn't have to share with anybody.

"Mark under his eyes? The little white fucked up shit they always seem to draw on their gang member's face, they got them?."

Beck shook his head. "They don't. It's getting tougher to find the North gang. We're doing our best."

Xavier scoffed. "Clearly, your best isn't good enough and I'm impatient. Carry on with the torturing, give me informations when done, yeah?."

"Okay boss."

Xavier watched Beck, his smart right-hand man and assassin leave and he slammed the door shut. This is what bothers him, he's been searching for the members of the North gang for years, since he was eighteen and he's a grown man now, clocking twenty eight and he hasn't found them.

Xavier was the leader of the South gang, a firm believer of a lot of things. Calling him a dangerous man was an understatement, he enjoyed killing, he could say the same for any mafia boss out there. He's been tracking the North gang for so long, he wanted-hell, he needed to put a bullet in their head, every one of them.

Xavier was the leader of the South Mafia Gang. They called them the Hibiscus. Considering how tough, dangerous and skilled he was, people who knew about his gang wondered why he called them the Hibiscus. It was simple, a horrible past but a memorable one.

At age ten, a young Xavier decided to stay home because he preferred watching his mom play around with guns. He knew what his mother was, he knew how dangerous she was. She wasn't a typical housewife, she was ruling the South at the time. But then, young Xavier had gone up to his room to gather his own blanket made guns and he took longer than usual and when he came back downstairs, his mother was lying down in a pool of her own blood with the symbol of the hibiscus flower carved in her chest.

Every single day, the same image replays in Xavier's head. The way his mother's eyes were wide open, directionless, her blood gushing out from the bullet in her head. It haunted him everyday that he couldn't do anything about it, he knew the people who did it.

The North gang.

There's always been a beef between the South and North mafia gangs. The issue was that the North gang was not traceable. It showed Xavier just how powerful they were. They ruled the North with so much trepidation. Xavier could be a soft man but he would never act vulnerable or show his soft sides. Nobody knew Xavier's weaknesses and that was a good thing.

No weaknesses, no betrayals.

Xavier was on the list of most wanted men by literally everybody. The police wanted him, the CIA wanted him. Why did they want him though? Xavier's answer to that question was that he helped them kill people they couldn't even find. He didn't care nonetheless, he was just as untraceable as well. His gang members were even more dangerous. The females especially, he made sure these women were properly trained. There were only ten of them, the other hundreds were all men, dangerous well-trained men.

The females were undoubtedly smarter than all the men combined. They did their jobs flawlessly but one of them got killed off when she was offered chicken change to bring Xavier's head to a certain amateur gang. Till this day, it makes Xavier laugh. Trying to seduce him was the one thing he could never fall for. Considering the sort of job he did and the sort of people he worked with, everyone saw him as a target and he'd never let his guard down.

He has killed people, more than he can count and he doesn't regret one bit of it. He mostly kills people who deserve it but at the end of the day, it can come down to having to kill an innocent person to get answers. He still doesn't feel regrets about any of it. Dining and attending high ranking society events were a must when it came to being a mafia leader. He always has people surrounding him, ready to protect him.

Now, the one thing anybody would never do is try to slip their way through Xavier's walls and try to harm Xavier. People were scared shitless of him, he had a nickname.

Kanik means blood.

The nickname was perfect for Xavier considering he thirsted for blood all the time, a mafia vampire even though he wasn't technically a vampire. The people who called him Kanik always did before he sucked the life out of them, either by snapping their neck, putting a bullet in their favorite body parts, he always makes them choose. Cutting their tongue off, pulling their teeth off one by one and making them count. He was merciless and whatever slow, painful death he gave someone, he ranked it.

A full 100? Or a 50. Whatever one he was feeling. Xavier shrugged his rope off, stepping towards the walk in closer in his room butt naked and stared at himself in the mirror. The man chuckled at himself. "Need to work on my thighs more, my cock feels bigger or is it just me who thinks that?."

He strode to the other side of his closet and pulled the drawer open. He grabbed a pair of black boxers and put it on. To the other side of the room where his shirts were neatly hung, he grabbed a dark blue one. Throwing it on, he turned to the other side of the room and grabbed a pair of black pants. He was dressed immediately, his best friends Noah and Micheal were adamant about him leaving with them to a strip club tonight and if he said he was hyped up for it then he was capping.

He stared at himself in the mirror again as he tucked his shirt into his pants. Buttoning the shirt and leaving three buttons undone. The ink on his chest, a tattoo that means a lot to him that read, "Hibiscus" was well written and he loved how everyone got to see it whenever his chest was a little revealed. Everyone in his gang had the 'Hibiscus' inked on their bodies.

He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. His right arm was fully inked, different tattoos that mean different things. Important things to him. Since it was a strip club, there was a chance that his competitors might know he'd be there so he had to go with tons of bodyguards. He grabbed a pair of white sneakers and left the closet to settle on his bed. Carefully, he put the sneakers on and grabbed his phone.It was almost midnight and his friends decided to pick him up instead of having his personal driver take him to the location.