Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

By the time the sun started setting again, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold and orange, they were lying on the beach with a blanket spread beneath them.

”Three days down,” Eve said, her head on his chest, her hand over his heart. ”Eleven more to go.”

Dimitri didn’t respond. Just held her closer and listened to the sound of her breathing matching his own, the rhythm of the waves matching the rhythm of their heartbeats.

For now, there was just this. The island. The woman in his arms. The promise of eleven more days where nothing existed but them.

That would have to be enough.

That would be everything.

***

POV: ANTONIO VALENTINO

The office in Rome smelled like old wood and power.

Antonio sat behind the mahogany desk that had belonged to his father and his father’s father before that. Dark wood polished to a shine that reflected the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The desk was positioned so that anyone sitting across from it would be backlit by the Tiber’s glare, a subtle disadvantage that Antonio had leveraged for forty years.

At sixty-seven years old, Antonio Valentino had spent his entire adult life managing an empire. Not building it, that had been his father’s work. Managing it. Expanding it. Protecting it. Keeping it alive and thriving while weaker men fell away.

The morning was already warm. Rome was waking up....traffic sounds drifting up from the streets below, the city moving into its daily rhythm. But in this office, there was only silence. The kind of silence that came from complete control.

Antonio picked up his phone and pressed a button.

Maria answered before the second ring. She always did. Eleven years of being his assistant had taught her that tardiness was unacceptable.

”Good morning, Don Valentino,” Maria said, her voice perfectly measured. Professional. Discreet.

Maria was fifty-one years old, with dark hair she kept in a neat bun and eyes that never missed anything. She’d been with him for long enough to understand what needed to be done without being told explicitly. That kind of assistant was worth more than most people made in a year.

”Maria,” Antonio said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. ”I need you to arrange several things for me this morning.”

”Of course, sir. What do you need?”

”First, I’m going to visit the Prometheus facility. One week from today. I want everything prepared for my arrival. Security briefing. Management ready for inspection. I want to see the current production schedules, the inventory, everything. Make it clear that I’m coming to see exactly what’s being manufactured and at what capacity.”

Maria was already writing. He could hear the pen moving across paper with practiced efficiency.

”Yes, sir. Will you need accommodation, or will you return to Rome the same day?”

”Same day,” Antonio said. ”This isn’t a vacation. This is a reminder that I still control what happens at that facility.

”Understood, sir.”

”Second,” Antonio continued, his voice dropping slightly, ”I need you to check on Isabella Russo’s medication schedule. She was supposed to receive her anxiety medication two days ago. I want confirmation that she received it. And I want you to prepare the next shipment to be sent to her immediately after. I want her dosage increased slightly, nothing that will hurt her, but enough that she becomes more dependent on the supply.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Maria was professional enough not to question orders, but she was also intelligent enough to understand the implications.

”Yes, sir,” she finally said. ”I’ll verify the delivery and prepare the next shipment with the increased dosage.”

”Good. And Maria....” Antonio paused. ”Make sure the increase is subtle. We want her compliant, not incapacitated. A Russo daughter who’s addicted to anxiety medication is a Russo daughter who can’t make clear decisions. Can’t be a threat to anyone. Can’t be trusted by her own family. That’s useful for us.”

”Understood, sir.”

”Third,” Antonio said, ”I want daily reports on everything happening in New York. Everything. I want to know what happen now that my son isn’t there to watch over things. I want information, Maria. Be discreet about it, but I want to know everything.”

”Yes, sir. I’ll arrange for our contacts in New York to send daily briefings.”

”Good. Make sure they understand that I want details. Not summaries. Details.”

When he hung up, Antonio poured himself a whiskey. It was 9:17 in the morning, but time was irrelevant when you were in his position. Whiskey was a tool, same as anything else. It helped him think. Helped him focus.

He looked at the city spread below his window and thought about his sons.

Dimitri was in New York. Had built an empire there that even Antonio respected. Even feared, if he was being honest with himself. His eldest son had taken everything he had taught him and turned it into something beyond his’s initial vision. Something more sophisticated. More controlled. More dangerous.

And Enzo. His younger son had always been different. More calculating in a way that was almost detached. While Dimitri had inherited his’s ruthlessness, Enzo had inherited something else, a kind of strategic distance that allowed him to see the board clearly.

Dimitri was the heir. That had never been in question. Despite their clashes, despite the way they disagreed on methods and timing, Dimitri was the one Antonio trusted with the empire’s future. Dimitri was the one who’d proven himself capable. Dimitri was the golden son.

But Enzo was useful in a different way.

***

The call came at 10:42 AM.

One of his’s security people called with a simple message:

”Your second son arrived in Rome seven days ago. He’s currently at the Conti Hotel. What are your orders?”

Antonio didn’t hesitate.

”Bring him to me. Within the hour. And be discreet. I don’t want anyone knowing that we’re bringing him in for a conversation.”

”Yes, Don. Immediately.”