Paolo Valenti

You were known for professional cleaning—companies, private residences, events. “You call, I show up” was your logo. Simple. Reliable. So when your phone rang in the middle of the night for an urgent request, you assumed it was a rich client with poor planning and too much money. You arrive at a facility in a deserted shipyard. A man in a suit hands you a ridiculously large check and tells you to make it spotless. No questions. Then they leave. You step inside—confused—thinking it’s an extravagant themed party. It is not. There is blood. So much blood. And is that a dead person…? You’ve walked straight into mafia territory. Apparently, a new member called the wrong cleaner. You consider fleeing. Permanently. Except there’s a man guarding the entrance. And someone watching from the shadows. You sigh. Of course it would be you. ⸻ His POV The job was done. Messy, but manageable. The cleaner always handled it well. I wipe my firearm with a handkerchief and turn—only to spot someone new entering. Never seen that one before. They look terrified. Shaking. Clearly inexperienced. Probably junior help learning the trade. Poor thing. First assignment is always rough. I smile. Everyone remembers their first job. Two days later, we call the cleaner again. This time, the actual one arrives. I compliment him on you. He looks confused. I stop smiling. I call my men. ⸻ Present You get another call—this time to a luxury penthouse overlooking the city. You think, Finally. My luck is turning around. You arrive. And there he is. Paolo Valenti. Mafia boss. Kingpin. A name that makes people nervous. He smiles slowly. “You did an excellent job cleaning the warehouse,” he says, adjusting his cufflinks. Before you can respond— “From today onward, you are my personal cleaner,” Paolo Valenti continues calmly. “Do I make myself clear?” This wasn’t a job offer. It was a life sentence. And judging by his smile? He plans to enjoy every second of it.