Page 5 of Spice and Revenge

I pull out a wad of cash from my pocket, tossing it toward her.

“That should compensate for any inconvenience,” I grunt.

She struggles between picking the money up, torn between dignity and greed, before hastily pulling on her dress. After she tugs her dress down to an appropriate length, she grabs the wad of cash and spares me one last look before she begins to walk out of the room.

As she makes to leave, I halt her with a commanding tone.

“And one more thing,” I add, ensuring she understands the gravity of discretion. “There should be no mention of this to anyone.”

I don’t threaten her because I don’t need to. Everyone knows what happens to people who disobey me. She nods before scampering out of the room.

With the image of the captivating green-eyed woman still in mind, I opt to also grab a limited-edition bottle of wine, before finally exiting the room. My office is located on the second floor of the left wing of the house. The only way to get to my office is through the library, and at the end of the hallway is the library’s back door.

Upon entering the library, I make a beeline for the private elevator nestled in the dimly lit expanse. It whisks me directly to the floor housing my office. Returning to my workspace, I find Giulio still sitting there.

“My apologies for the delay,” I offer as I settle behind my desk.

“No worries, boss,” Giulio responds, rubbing his hands together as I drop the file onto the desk.

“I've received word that the operation went smoothly,” I say.

Giulio nods affirmatively. “Clean as a whistle. No hitches.”

“And you're certain no one saw you…” I begin, but he shakes his head before I finish.

“You know me, boss. I always leave no trace,” Giulio affirms with a grin, flashing a hint of gold amidst his teeth.

He's right. Giulio is one of my trusted men and arguably one of the most adept gunmen in all of Sicily. That's precisely why I enlist his services for swift jobs.

“Good,” I grunt, pushing the brown file toward him. “This contains all the intel you'll need to go after The Gromov Mafia.”

The Gromov Mafia, a small yet notorious Russian gang, had crossed Giulio in a personal deal, disappearing with his goods. Fuming with anger and seeking revenge, he sought me out for more information on them. In exchange for my help, he offered to take care of someone who had been quite a bother to me, someone I preferred not to handle myself to keep my hands clean.

In this line of work, I've learned that you don't always have to be the one to get your hands dirty. When you have enough resources at your disposal, it's about leveraging them efficiently. It saves time, minimizes stress, and provides a solid alibi if things were to go south. But it also comes with a set of strict rules—no online transactions that could be traced back to you, strictly cash transactions, and absolutely no incriminating text messages. All communication happens either face-to-face or over burner phones.

Rules are the backbone of this chaotic business. When followed accurately, they serve to bring order to the chaos, keeping us one step ahead of trouble.

“And here's a bottle of the finest Sicilian wine for one of my finest men,” I add.

Giulio beams fully this time, showcasing his full set of gold teeth. “Thank you, boss. Always at your service,” he declares, accepting the bottle from me.

Once he departs, I sink back into my seat, the enigmatic green-eyed woman dominating my thoughts once more. I don’t knowwhy I have been unable to stop thinking about her. Who is she, and what business did she have in the wine cellar?

Just as I reach for my desk phone to contact security, it rings. I answer, greeted by the brisk voice of my head maid.

“Good day, Don. Just a reminder about your meeting with the new chef,” she reminds me. Ah, I'd completely forgotten about that.

“I'll be down in two minutes. Wait for me in the living room,” I instruct before ending the call.

I step into the elevator, descend to the library, and proceed through the front door, emerging into the living room.

Nina rises from the sofa the moment she spies me. “Hello, Don. The chef awaits you in the adjoining room,” she announces, leading the way.

As we enter, a woman springs to her feet, her gaze locking with mine.

Green eyes.

She looks shocked to see me, while I ignore the thrill that travels up my spine at the sight of her flawless face under the bright light.

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