Taker Company.

Days before the disaster of my life...

Giotto.

How long can it take you to realize that you are perfect and lead a completely flawless life? It can take me seconds.

I mean, just by looking at me you can tell I'm pretty... striking. The stares from women on the street follow me everywhere that I go. Hell, I even catch men checking me out on occasion.

I'm not lying when I say I'm beautiful and a perfect gentleman. Maybe not faultless, but everything about me overshadows my imperfections.

“So, how many tattoos will you get, brother?” Lukyan, my best friend, asked me with a raised eyebrow. “Your old man is going to have a heart attack when he sees you can't fit one more tattoo on your body.”

We started laughing as we walked into a coffee shop.

“My face is still untouched,” we sat down at a table we had reserved for our morning chat. “Donato gets pissed off very quickly because he won't let me live in peace.”

“Well, if you look at it from another perspective, we can say that your father worries about you,” I frown. “Do I look good in the role of the worried man? I'm practicing to get my mother to stop insisting that I have to live with other people.”

“You live with my perfect self...”

“And mine,” Antonella interrupts me, sitting down at our usual table. “I'm tired of seeing how my mother wants me to change my airs?,” she sighs wearily. “My airs? are so perfect.”

“Life is definitely difficult for us rich people with the whims of our unsympathetic family," I admit ruefully.

We are not children, but we come from families with character and when you are disobedient and want to do your will, your elders get upset. Lukyan is a few years younger than me, he's a white guy, brown hair, body just like mine, tattooed like me, blue eyes and bearded. He is handsome and is a perfect offspring of an Italian and a Russian. He is the son of Lauren and Ryan, my foster uncles and the best in the world.

Antonella is a beautiful redheaded girl, adorable to look at, sensitive, porcelain skin and perfect character. I really adore that little girl. She is also the daughter of an Italian and a Russian. Her mother is Arya and her father is Aleksandr, they are also my foster uncles and the most wonderful beings I could ever meet.

“Mom wants to make me go to a foster home,” I start laughing at Antonella, "Don't laugh like that, asshole. Thanks to that, you don't pay taxes.”

“We do pay taxes,” Lukyan interjects, “it's just that it's cheaper for us to simply do charity work.”

“That's true,” I wink at him. “The money we have left over should be given to the needy. Remember that my uncles like to be guardian angels to the poor.”

“Yes, and you don't know how much it bothers me that they make me live with them,” she answers indignantly.

“I really don't understand why they have to make us change,” a waitress arrives with the menu. “I like the way we are and we don't hurt anyone.”

“Hey, waitress,” I point to the girl, "half of this cafeteria is mine and the other half is theirs,” I point to the guys, “what exactly was your reason for keeping us waiting so long?”

The three of us look at the embarrased waitress.

“You have glasses and I think they are big enough for you to realize that we have been waiting for more than 30 minutes,” I cross my arms when I see her not answering me.

“The girl is mute,” Lukyan places her arms on the table. “The mice may have left her without a tongue.”

“There's no one in the cafeteria, didn't you want to serve us? Oh, for God's sake. We're regular customers in our cafeteria and everything is about us,” Antonella looks the girl up and down. “Are we scaring you, sweetie?”

The girl lowers her head and plays with her apron, I sigh bored by such a situation and look sideways. Everyone in this place knew we were here, but no one wanted to come and take our order.

I get up from my chair and walk over to where a man was writing something down in a notebook.

“Why did you let the owners of this place wait to be served?” I confront the guy, he looks up from the notebook and looks at me as if he doesn't understand. This coffee shop is mine, just because it's in front of my company doesn't mean it's not.

“I don't understand what you're talking about, sir,” the man frowns with annoyance. “I'm paying the debts, but this coffee shop is mine.”

“Debts? Dude, this coffee shop has been owned by Taker Company for a long time,” my friend scoffs.

“We bought it on sale and wanted to keep their employees so they wouldn't feel bad about losing their jobs,” Antonella interjects.

“See, we own the coffee shop. So, take care of its owners or leave and don't come back,” I answer.

The man starts laughing, which instanly makes me angry.

“Are all rich people like this?” He throws some stuff on the counter. “They really think they own the world because they have some money? They think they can look down on the rest of the hard-working people, who bust their asses to do things right and struggle day after day to put food on the table...”

“Our table was empty, in case you didn't see it,” Luk interrupted him.

The man ignored him and continued talking.

“They think they are the center of the universe and believe that everything revolves around them, but let me tell you, in real life, in the poor neighborhoods, we all struggle day by day to get ahead and even if we don't have money, we have a family that supports us.”

“And who told you that we are not supported by our families?” Antonella starts laughing. “You are so funny. Is it our fault that you’re all poor? We are simply wealthy people. We have a more comfortable position than others because of our parents. So don't say that we think we are the center of the universe. No, we don’t think that. We know that.”

The man gives her a dirty look.

“They lack love, humanity, and make people despise them for their disgusting attitude. We may be poor and have no economic position, but we have something you don't.” I raise an eyebrow waiting for the metaphor of the year, “we have love, feelings and money can never buy that.”

I clap my hands to the man, calling his attention.

“Now say it without crying so that it has a deeper and more significant effect on us,” I adjust my tie and look at him seriously. “This is plain and simple. Listening to you talk is like letting a dog eat chocolate. Do I have money? Yes. Am I well off? Yes. Should we keep arguing with a man who resents life because he didn't feel like taking care of people who are superior to him? No. And one more thing, are we to blame for having the money that people like you in the slums lack? No. So stop your sermons and pick up your belongings because reality hits you today.”

“You're a miserable son of a bitch,” he spits angrily.

“Yes, I am and for my business. So, to avoid further inconvenience in your sad, pathetic life, you no longer work here. You can go and mourn somewhere else and live off the love you all give each other," I shrug my shoulders. “You just had to do your job. You didn't feel like fucking taking care of us and now because I'm the most powerful being in all of Amsterdam, I'm going to treat you all like shit. I’ll just brag about what I have and since I don't feel like having you in the coffee shop that was being auctioned off when we bought it, I'm firing you.”

The man storms out of the cafeteria, cursing left and right.

“Whoever wants to keep that miserable man company, there's the door. No one is stopping you from living a better life and working somewhere else, but I remind you, everything we offer, you won't find anywhere else," this time it was my friend who was speaking.

Two more girls left the cafeteria while the rest went back to work.

“They fucked up my peace of mind and I lost my desire for coffee,” I was pissed.

“Let's go, we have a meeting with dad,” Antonella informs me, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

I nod and we start to leave the coffee shop. I behave like a child, I'm an immature guy who likes to argue and get on people's nerves. I love to see them pissed off, but I'm a fucking human being. I know what I lack.

I distinctly remember the three year old brat that was with me in daycare and she is partially to blame for how I turned out.

Saying that I wasn't perfect, a gentleman and a beautiful human being, wreaked havoc on my  personality and scarred my childhood.

Now I am exactly who you see. Giotto Marchetti, a billionaire businessman who lacks feelings and loves to see others suffer.