Page 38 of His

I stopped, turning slightly to face him again. “What is it, Antonio? You have something else to add?”

Antonio’s smirk faded, replaced by a more measured, calculating look. “You’re right about one thing, Massimo,” he said slowly. “Someone is playing a dangerous game. But it’s not just your organization that’s been hit. We’ve had our own… complications recently.”

I didn’t move, didn’t react immediately, but inside, my mind was racing. Complications? The Russos were rarely on the defensive; they were always the ones making the first move. For them to admit to having issues meant whatever was happening was pretty fucking serious.

“Complications?” I repeated, keeping my tone even. “Like what?”

Antonio leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Certain shipments have gone missing, high-value ones. And we’ve had a few… misunderstandings with some of our business partners. It’s not our style to lose control like this, Massimo. And we assumed you were behind it.”

“You thought I was undermining you?” I asked, a touch of incredulity in my voice.

Mario, who had been quietly observing, spoke up, his tone sharp. “Who else could it be? You’ve been the only other player in the game with the resources and the motive to hit us where it hurts.”

I didn’t flinch. “If I wanted to hit you, you’d know it. I wouldn’t be sneaking around, taking bites out of your operations. I’d come at you head-on.”

Antonio’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered my words, and for the first time, I saw a hint of uncertainty in his gaze.

“Then who?” Sal muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. “Who the hell has the balls to come after both of us?”

The tension remained high, but it was now laced with a mutual recognition of a shared threat. Whoever was orchestrating these moves had managed to pit two of the most powerful families against each other, and that realization was not sitting well with anyone in the room.

I slowly sat back down, leaning forward with a grim expression. “If someone’s trying to destabilize both our organizations, that’s a problem for all of us. We need to find out who’s behind this before it escalates into something we can’t control.”

Antonio’s gaze locked onto mine, his earlier smugness gone, replaced by the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t like being manipulated, Massimo. If what you’re saying is true, then we’ve both been played.”

“None of us do, Antonio,” I replied, my tone deadly serious. “This isn’t just about you or me anymore. If we don’t figure out who’s pulling the strings, we’re both going to lose a hell of a lot more than just money.”

The room was silent, the gravity of the situation settling over everyone. Mario shifted in his seat, his expression a mix of suspicion and reluctant acceptance. Sal’s scowl deepened, but even he couldn’t deny the logic in my words.

“So, what’s the plan, then?” Mario asked, his voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. “You suggesting we work together?”

I glanced at Antonio, reading the icy calculation in his eyes. This was a delicate balance; the very idea of collaboration between our families was fraught with risks, but the alternative was worse. We couldn’t let whoever was behind this continue to gain the upper hand while we tore each other apart.

“We don’t have to like each other,” I said steadily. “But we need to stop this before it’s too late. We find out who’s behind it, we take them down, and then we go back to business as usual.”

Antonio nodded slowly, a flicker of something almost like respect passing through his eyes. “Agreed. But make no mistake, Massimo—once this is over, we’re still enemies.”

I allowed myself a thin smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Antonio leaned forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “If we’re going to work together on this, we need to be honestwith each other. No more games. Tell me what’s been happening on your side, and I’ll do the same.”

I nodded, recognizing the importance of full disclosure in this moment. “My laundering operation at Marco’s tailor shop was compromised. Someone planted fabricated evidence, and now Marco’s rotting in a cell. It’s too coordinated to be a coincidence. Someone wants to undermine me, and they’re using Marco to do it.”

Mario exchanged a glance with his father, the tension between them palpable. “We’ve been dealing with something similar,” he admitted. “First, a few shipments disappeared, valuable ones. Then our contacts in the port city suddenly became unreliable. We lost a major deal because of it, and it wasn’t because of incompetence. Someone made sure we were completely out of the loop.”

Antonio’s eyes darkened as he continued. “A few weeks ago, one of our best men turned up dead. It was made to look like an accident, but the timing was too perfect. He was close to exposing a leak in our operations. Whoever is behind this is smart, Massimo. They’re hitting us where it hurts, but they’re doing it in a way that keeps us looking at each other as the enemy.”

“Divide and conquer,” I muttered, the pieces falling into place. “Keep us focused on each other while they move in the shadows.”

Sal spoke up, his voice gruff. “We’ve also noticed unusual activity near our borders, like someone’s testing our defenses. They’re looking for weaknesses, trying to find a way in. We’ve tightened security, but it’s clear they’re planning something bigger.”

Antonio’s gaze was sharp, calculating. “If we’re both being targeted, then this isn’t just about taking down one of us. They want to dismantle both families, piece by piece.”

“Agreed,” I said. “But the question is who’s behind it? There aren’t many players with the resources and the guts to pull something like this off.”

Mario frowned, thinking aloud. “It’s not the smaller families; they don’t have the reach. And it’s not one of our allies—they wouldn’t risk open war between our families. That leaves someone new, or someone we’ve overlooked.”

“Or someone with a grudge,” Sal added, his tone dark.

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