Page 20 of Fatal Sloth

As we near the cargo containers, I see Greg standing nervously, waiting for us. The tension thickens as we get closer, and I know I won't like what he has to say.

"What the hell is going on, Greg?"I bark at the dock manager. He may not work for me directly, but we line his pockets to keep shit like this from happening.

The fucker starts stuttering, “I-I’m sorry, Boss. I don’t know what’s been going on with the shipments.” He shifts uncomfortably from side to side. “They are arriving and being checked in, but we don’t look inside to see what is there, as you instructed.”

"Yeah, I know what I instructed," I growl, keeping my tone curt. The less Greg knows, the better. His guys are only supposed to verify the container and move it to our side so my men can handle the rest.

Enzo spoke to him earlier about pulling the CCTV footage—I was hoping he had a lead, but his demeanor doesn’t show it. Someone targeting our shipments is a direct attack on the Morelli name.

"Check the footage," I bark, turning towards Enzo.

"That’s the thing, Boss. I checked myself and didn’t see anything suspicious," Greg mumbles.

My jaw tightens. “There has to be something. Casper, the gun smuggling ghost, isn't stealing my shit." I don't have time for excuses. I grab Greg by the throat and slam him into a container. Smirking as the weak fucker turns red in the face, clawing at my hands, trying to get a breath he desperately needs. He’s more useless if he passes out, so I drop him to the ground and watch as he struggles to catch his breath. “Enzo, check the footage.” I hate repeating myself.

I pace back and forth in front of the monitors, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be one of my own men? A disgruntled employee looking to make a quick buck? Or maybe it's someone from a rival crew trying to fuck with me, maybe undermine my authority.

I need answers, and I need them now. "Get every damn camera angle checked. I want to know who's been coming and going from this dock, and I want to know yesterday." I instruct, turning back towards my second in command

Enzo nods, his expression serious as he gets to work. He knows as well as I do that we can't let this slide. Whoever is behind this needs to be dealt with. No one fucks with Sebastiano Morelli and gets away with it.

But even as I seethe with anger, I can't shake the thought: why would anyone dare to be so bold? Have they forgotten who the hell I am? I shake my head, pushing aside those thoughts for now. Right now, I need to focus on finding out who's behind this and making them pay. And trust me, when I find them, they will pay.

13

Mia

The rugged man opens the car door, expecting me to step in. My clumsy attempt has me stumbling in my dress, but he glances at me without offering any assistance. Once I manage to settle in, he joins me on the other side, taking a seat right beside me. The drive to my next opulent prison begins in complete silence, allowing my thoughts to race. Despite the intense blast of air conditioning in the car, I find myself sweating. The dress seems to grow heavier with each passing moment, and even the makeup applied feels like a burdensome layer on my skin. Heat creeps up my neck, causing my hair to stick uncomfortably to my skin. I take deliberate breaths in an attempt to regain control of my emotions.

I can do this. I can do this.

The drive is filled with awkward and uncomfortable silence, but fortunately for me, it doesn't last too long. We eventually arrive at a massive gated estate. Another burly man emerges from the guard station, takes one look at the driver, and promptly opens the gate to let us pass through.

We come to a stop in front of the house, although calling it a house feels like an understatement; it's beyond massive. The double doors swing open, revealing an older woman who steps out, accompanied by two more armed individuals. The woman wears a warm smile as she approaches, enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Hello, Mia Cara. My name is Marie. I'm the housekeeper for the Morelli home," she says, maintaining her smile. With both hands on my shoulders, she examines my appearance before embracing me once more.

Taking my hand, Marie leads me inside, with the armed individuals trailing behind us. "Give the girl some space; she isn't going anywhere," Marie shouts to the men, whom she introduces as Daren, my bodyguard, and Yusuf, my driver.

“Are they supposed to follow me everywhere?” I ask hesitantly.

“Not everywhere, but the boss told us to make sure you adjust well until he returns,” Marie replies. “Let’s get you changed and then perhaps something to eat.”

Marie leads me up the staircase and down the hall to my new cell––I mean bedroom.

“Don Sebastiano thought you’d appreciate your own space,” Marie explains, her voice soft as she gestures toward the door, leading me into a large bedroom.

My jaw practically drops as I step inside, stunned by the sheer size of the room. It's like comparing a cramped closet to a spacious loft apartment. Marie stands beside me, her smile reflecting the warmth of the room.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she says, her voice carrying genuine kindness. I can only nod, overwhelmed by the unexpected luxury.

The walls are painted in calming shades of soft gray and pale blue, creating a tranquil atmosphere that instantly puts me at ease. And those floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one side? They make the room feel even bigger, doubling the space with the reflection of the sunlight pouring in through the windows. I can't resist stepping closer to take in the view—it's breathtaking. The city sprawls out below, a sparkling sea of lights that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's like a whole other world out there, a welcome distraction from the chaos of the day.

And those curtains? They're a rich, deep burgundy color, adding a cozy warmth to the room that makes it feel like a comforting embrace. Positioned in the center of it all is a large bed decked out in crisp white bedding that practically begs me to sink into it. The pillows are plump and inviting, and the comforter looks so soft I can almost feel it under my fingertips.

This room is like a sanctuary, a peaceful retreat from the outside world, a place where I can finally relax and unwind as I sink into the plush bedding.

"He isn’t the don, Marie," comes a hardened voice at the bedroom door. I turn around to see the man behind the voice walking towards me. "I’m Nico, Seb’s cousin," he offers as he extends his hand.

---