Page 2 of Silent Night With Alessio

Elio’s the type who holds his cards close to the chest. I should’ve known he’s working on something. He’s probably keeping his hand tight until he’s ready to move.

There’s a sigh, heavy through the phone, then, “Just tell the boss I’m working on something that’ll give us the edge over those Vitale dogs. Capisce?”

“Yeah. I got you, Elio.”

The call clicks off, and I’m left staring at the receiver. My mind spins, running back over the conversation. Elio’s been advising the family long enough to know this game better than anyone.

The family trusts him, and for good reason. His savviness has pulled through more than once, and I know that. But lately, he’sbeen... distant. Making moves I don’t always agree with. Then again, everyone’s got their own way of handling pressure—and right now, the whole family’s feeling that pressure.

I down the half-full glass of whiskey on my desk, letting the burn settle, steadying myself for the conversation ahead. It is both liquid courage and some heat to ward off the winter cold. I didn’t sleep last night. Can’t afford to be getting stiff.

This talk with the big boss? It should’ve been Elio’s job. The boss trusts him more than anyone, especially for something like this, something as important as the signet ring. But if Elio says it’s mine to do, I’ll handle it.

I rise, stack the files neatly, letting a last glance linger on the papers. Those can wait for now. Since we’re all here, no one is in immediate danger.

On the other hand, the signing ceremony is coming up, and with Elio away, it’s on me to represent. I have to focus and give it my best. The Luciana Family deserves nothing less.

Straightening my jacket, I step out of the office, the taste of whiskey on my tongue, ready to face the boss.

The walk to Massimo’s office is short, the hallways quiet, with most people tucked away in their rooms or other parts of the lounge. I reach his door, give two solid knocks. His voice cuts through almost immediately. “Come in.”

I push the door open, and the smell of Cuban cigars rolls over me like a wave. It’s the boss’s signature, filling every corner, thick and rich. It’s enough to make me crave my next smoke, but I push the thought down and look up at Massimo Luciana.

Through the haze, he sits behind his desk, looking over stacks of papers, his face obscured by clouds of smoke. Over the years, the man’s grown hard, unbreakable, ruthless, even.

Losing his father to a Vitale hit did that. That day changed him, pushed him into the seat he holds now, carrying the gravity of the Luciana legacy on his back. The vengeance that drives us all burns especially hot on him.

An accountant stands beside him, droning on about offshore accounts and money laundering set-ups. I barely register it, eyes drifting across the space. The office always hits me the same way…imposing, perfectly furnished, every piece reflecting the edge and elegance of the man himself.

But Massimo’s not a man for distractions. He waves the accountant off, and he slips out with barely a sound. Silence hangs for a moment, and I feel the depth of the boss’s gaze as he sizes me up.

“Alessio…” he finally says, his voice low, smoke curling from his lips as he speaks. “Any reports I should hear about?”

“Nothing new, boss. Just a few Vitale sightings here and there, but they haven’t made a direct move on any of our bases yet.” I keep it steady, letting the words settle as he takes them in.

Massimo nods, slow and thoughtful. Then he asks, “So... what did you come to see me about?”

“It’s about the signing ceremony coming up. It’s two weeks away, boss.”

“Yeah, I know.” He pauses, studying me. “Where’s Elio?”

The question hits, and I feel a lump in my throat, but I keep my face straight. “He’s handling some things, says it might give us a leg up with everything the Vitale’s throwing our way. He asked me to take care of the ring with him wrapped up in all that.”

There’s a beat of silence. Massimo’s eyes narrow, sharp as knives, studying me, reading between the lines. He takes a long drag from his cigar, letting the smoke drift out in slow waves that blur his face. “Elio… always coming up with something.” There’s understanding and deep trust in his voice.

Then, he rises and strides over to a tall shelf behind his desk, brushing aside a few thick books to reveal a hidden safe. I watch as he twists the knob, clicks in the code, then opens it with a smooth turn of the key.

He pulls something from the depths of the safe, something small, and returns to his seat, sinking back into the chair’s leather embrace. He beckons me forward, his gaze as steady as stone.

“Come here…”

I cross the office, feeling the grandeur of the room press down as I approach his desk. The safe's contents sit on his desk, a small case, and inside, there it is: the Luciana singlet ring.

I’ve heard the stories, whispered reverently among the family, about how beautiful it is. But nothing prepared me for the sight itself. The ring is striking. Massimo notices my awe, and with a low, proud voice, he speaks.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?”

I nod, barely aware of myself. Massimo takes another puff of his cigar, the smoke curling lazily before him as he continues, his tone reflective, as though he’s talking more to himself than me.

---