Chapter 2 Play Or Crumble

2 “You’ll either play for me, or you’ll watch everything you care about crumble.” He couldn’t stop thinking about Giovanni’s words. He had spent the whole night in his apartment thinking about Giovanni’s words. The bar felt wrong now. The usual sounds, the laughter, the chatter, the music—were missing. Everything felt heavy, and his guitar case seemed like a weight he didn’t want to carry anymore. He could see the tension on the always-happy Vashanti’s face. Nico’s hands tapped nervously on the table. Marco, the old owner of the bar, had always been more than just a boss to Nico. He had taught him a lot and helped him find his way in life. And now Giovanni had taken all of it. The bar, the business, Marco’s legacy—he owned it all now. The thought of working for the man who destroyed Marco’s business made Nico’s stomach twist with rage. He would rather starve than serve someone like Giovanni. A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of his thoughts. He froze. A sound that made his heart skip a beat. He froze. It was late—too late for a casual visitor. With a hesitant step, Nico walked over to the door and peered through the peephole. He saw two men in black suits standing outside. His stomach sank. He recognized them immediately—Giovanni’s men. His pulse quickened. He hadn’t expected this. Not yet. Nico’s mind raced. He knew what this meant. Giovanni’s men didn’t knock for small talk. They came for one reason: to take him to Giovanni. Nico hesitated. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it right away. His thoughts scrambled. Should I go? Should I face Giovanni now, or tell them to leave? He was faced with those questions. Giovanni had been clear—he wouldn’t wait forever. But that didn’t make this any easier. For a moment, he thought about saying no—about slamming the door in their faces and walking away. But Nico knew better than anyone that Giovanni didn’t take kindly to refusal. The consequences of angering him weren’t something he was willing to risk. Still, he was doubtful. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. The two men stepped into the apartment with quiet authority, their expressions unreadable. The taller one, the one who spoke before, didn’t waste time. “Giovanni wants to see you,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve come to take you to him.” Nico felt his heart thud in his chest, and his mind raced. Part of him wanted to argue, to tell them he wasn’t ready, that he didn’t want to go. But another part of him—the part that had been struggling with the idea of Giovanni’s offer—knew this moment was inevitable. His throat went dry, and he forced himself to speak. “Right now?” The man nodded. “Yes. He’s waiting for you.” Nico swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to get the best of him. The idea of facing Giovanni again was overwhelming. The first time had been bad enough, but this felt different. There was no backing out now. He was being pulled deeper into this world, and there was no way out unless he played by Giovanni’s rules. He glanced around the apartment one last time—his small, cluttered space that had been his refuge for years. The familiar sight of his guitar in the corner, his worn-out couch, the half-drunk coffee cup on the counter. It was all so… ordinary. And yet, it was the last bit of normalcy he had. Nico’s eyes lingered on the guitar. It was the one thing that had always kept him grounded, the one thing he knew would never betray him. But now, even his music felt like it might be slipping from his grasp, tangled in the web Giovanni was spinning. Nico’s gaze shifted back to the two men, waiting for him. His body was tense, his palms clammy. Every instinct in him screamed to resist—to tell them to leave him alone. But he knew, deep down, there was no resisting Giovanni. Not now. Not after everything that had already been set in motion. “I’ll be right with you,” Nico muttered, more to himself than to the men. He quickly grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on, the fabric heavy against his shoulders. The walk to the door felt like it took longer than it should have, every step feeling more like a final one. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. As he stepped out of his apartment, he tried to breathe through the anxiety. The men flanked him as they led him to the elevator. Nico didn’t speak. He didn’t have the words. His mind was spinning with too many thoughts, and too many questions. Was he making a mistake? Was this the start of something that would change his life forever? The elevator door closed with a soft chime, and Nico felt the car descend, taking him further away from the life he had known. The building’s lobby was quiet, as the men led him outside to the waiting black car. The ride to Giovanni’s mansion felt longer than it should have, the silence between them pressing in on Nico. The city flashed by outside the window, the familiar sights now feeling distant and foreign. As they neared the mansion, Nico’s anxiety moved to its peak. The building looked like a fortress, The car stopped in front of the mansion, and Nico was escorted inside. The ornate walls and lavish decor only added to the growing sense of unease. Every step he took felt like a step further into a world he didn’t belong in. Nico wouldn't deny the fact that Giovanni’s mansion was grand. Every corner of the room seemed to scream wealth, power, and control. The low hum of a piano echoed through the air. He turned to gaze at them as he walked past the rooms. Giovanni was waiting for him in a spacious, dimly lit study room. He stood by the window, his back to Nico, looking out over the city. When Giovanni turned around, his calm smile greeted Nico, but there was a coldness to it, a calculating edge that Nico couldn’t ignore. “I’m glad you came,” Giovanni said, his voice smooth, almost inviting. Nico didn’t know what to say. He only nodded his mind still a swirl of hesitation and uncertainty. He had come this far. Now, he had to face whatever Giovanni had in store for him. And he promised to find his way out of this.