Page 17 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

I set the phone down and push away from the counter, pacing the small kitchen. Bianca’s visit earlier feels different now, her warnings taking on a sharper edge.

He doesn’t let people in easily. But once you’re in, you’re in for good.

Am I already “in”? The thought terrifies me as much as it intrigues me. I’ve spent so much time building walls—protecting myself from disappointment, from failure—but Carlito doesn’t seem to care about those walls. He pushes past them with ease, leaving me exposed in ways I’m not prepared for.

I stop pacing and take a deep breath. I have a job to do—a role to play. Whatever happened last night, whatever it means, I can’t let it derail me.

But as I sit back down at the table, my hands find the necklace resting at my collarbone—a nervous habit I’ve had since childhood. The gesture grounds me, but it also stirs something deeper.

The question I’ve been trying to avoid rises to the surface, unavoidable now.

What if I’m in over my head?

Chapter 8

Carlito

The boardroom in the Venetian is all polished wood and sleek glass, its opulence a reflection of the stakes at hand. Evening casts a golden glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the weight of the discussion.

Bianca sits across the table, her posture relaxed but her sharp gaze betraying her intent. She’s observant, always has been. Mia sits to my left, her notebook open and pen in hand, as though bracing for another barrage of questions.

“Alright,” Bianca begins, her tone deceptively light. “Let’s talk about why I need to be involved in this gala in the first place.”

“You represent the personal side of the Marcelli image,” I reply, keeping my voice measured. “It’s good for optics. The public sees a strong, successful family. It’s... persuasive.”

Bianca narrows her eyes at me, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Persuasive, huh? And what about Mia? She’s the one pulling this whole thing together. Seems to me you’re already covered on the professional front.”

Mia glances at me, startled by the unexpected compliment. Her cheeks flush a delicate pink as she quickly looks back down at her notes.

“She’s done exceptional work so far,” I admit, my tone neutral despite the tug of warmth that Mia’s reaction stirs in me. “But this isn’t just about the logistics of the event. It’s about perception.”

Bianca crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Perception is great, but I can’t help but notice how much you’re relying on her.”

Her statement hangs in the air, weighted with implications. My jaw tightens, but before I can respond, Mia speaks up, her voice steady despite the tension.

“I appreciate the trust, Bianca,” Mia says, her tone polite but firm. “But this is a team effort. Your presence adds a personal touch that no amount of planning can replicate.”

Bianca raises a brow, clearly impressed by Mia’s poise. “Nice deflection,” she says with a grin. “You’re good at this.”

Mia offers a small smile, but her fingers grip her pen just a bit tighter.

“Good enough to deserve a little credit,” Bianca adds, her gaze shifting to me. “Don’t you think, Dad?”

Her words are pointed, deliberate. I meet her gaze evenly, knowing full well what she’s implying. “I’ve given her credit where it’s due,” I reply. “This isn’t about playing favorites. It’s about results.”

Bianca smirks, leaning forward. “Results. Right. Just don’t let your... personal feelings get in the way of business.”

Her words hit their mark. Mia’s blush deepens, and for once, I find myself at a loss for a response.

Instead, I lean back in my chair, exuding calm control even as her observation sharpens my focus.

“This isn’t personal,” I say at last, my voice even. “It’s practical. You’re a part of this family, and that makes you an asset.”

Bianca’s smirk falters for a moment, but she recovers quickly, her gaze darting to Mia. “I’m an asset, huh? And what about my dear Mia over here? I think she’s proving to be more than just a contractor to you.”

Mia’s eyes widen slightly, and her hand freezes mid-note. “I’m here to do my job,” she says, her voice steady despite the tension. “And I appreciate the opportunity to work on something this important.”

Bianca studies her for a moment, then nods. “Deflecting again, Mia. I like that.”

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