Page 4 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

Living in two worlds requires precision. On the surface, I am the polished businessman, a name synonymous with power and success in Las Vegas. Behind closed doors, I wear another mantle—one far more dangerous.

The city bows to its own rhythm, and beneath the neon lights lies the heartbeat of organized crime. I am that rhythm.

Only Leo, my trusted consigliere, knows the truth. He has been my right hand for over a decade, overseeing the delicate balance between my legitimate empire and the darker Mafia one.

Neither Bianca nor Mia has any inkling of the other half of my life, and it’s better that way. The less they know about my underworld dealings, the safer they remain.

The door opens behind me, and Leo enters, carrying a glass of scotch. He sets it down on the table with his usual efficiency, his expression calm and unreadable.

“She’s confirmed for tomorrow,” he says, his voice low but firm. “The Wynn, private dining room. Ten o’clock sharp.”

I nod, my gaze still on the horizon. “Good. Let’s see if she can hold her ground.”

Leo lingers for a moment, his eyes sharp. “You’re putting a lot of weight on this gala.”

I turn to face him, my expression unchanging. “Because it carries weight. The right partnerships. The right perception. It’s not just a party, Leo. It’s strategy.”

He nods, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. “And Mia Caruso? Do you think she can handle it?”

“We’ll find out,” I reply evenly, taking the glass of scotch and swirling it absently. “Her work shows promise, but promise isn’t enough.”

Leo smirks faintly. “You always test people harder than anyone else does.”

“That’s because I trust no one,” I say without hesitation. “Trust is a losing game.”

Leo nods, his gaze steady. “Fair enough. But Bianca has an eye for talent. If she says Mia can handle it, she probably can.”

“Probably isn’t good enough,” I counter, the edge in my voice unmistakable.

He doesn’t press further, stepping back toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

As he leaves, the quiet of the room wraps around me once more. I glance at the clock—time is always slipping away, every second bringing tomorrow closer.

I pick up Mia’s portfolio one last time, studying the details with a critical eye. Her work is polished, yes, but I’ll find out if she has what it takes to face me head-on.

And if she doesn’t, I won’t hesitate to cut her loose.

The thought lingers as I return to my desk. Mia is a potential asset, but I’ve learned not to grow attached to potential. Potential is unproven. Potential can betray you.

I pick up my pen and make a few notes in the margins of her portfolio. Questions I’ll ask her. Challenges I’ll present. It’s not about catching her off guard—it’s about testing her response under pressure.

Pressure reveals the truth.

The phone on my desk buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at the caller ID—an associate handling security for the gala.

“Everything is on schedule,” the voice on the other end assures me. “Possible vendors have been vetted. Preliminary security plans have been drawn up.”

“And the guest list?” I ask, my tone clipped.

“Reviewed and cleared,” the associate replies. “The Marcelos will be attending.”

Of course, they will. My biggest rivals in business—and in the unspoken game that runs beneath it. Their presence is both a challenge and an opportunity.

“Good,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Make sure nothing is overlooked. One misstep could cost us.”

“Understood.”

I hang up and lean back in my chair, running a hand over my jaw. The Marcelos attending raises the stakes of this gala. Every detail must be perfect—not just for appearances but to solidify my position as the best.

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