Page 9 of Dark Mafia Vows

Hums of agreement surround the table.

“One important thing,” my voice booms across the room. “We should engage with local charities. Positioning ourselves as socially responsible will appeal to the philanthropic nature of wealthy individuals. It enhances brand loyalty.”

They all note down the points I’ve made as I continue to speak, my voice hardening.

“We can’t afford any hiccups. I want you to coordinate with the suppliers and make sure they’re ready for the increased demand.”

“Sir?” Marco interjects. “What about competition? They’ve been aggressive lately, especially with their new line of hybrid vehicles. We need to stay ahead.”

Elysium Rides.

When I launched Stride, my elite logistics company, a little over a year ago, Lukas Braun, a prominent German businessman in Manhattan, quickly followed with his own venture. They tried to replicate the services Stride offers, bombarding the market with aggressive marketing and advertising campaigns.

But all they did was prove that they were a knock-off version of Stride, a cheaper alternative that people who craved the elite experience but couldn’t afford it went for.

I smirk. “Let them come. We have an edge they don’t. Our quality speaks for itself, and the technology we’re integrating is unmatched. Plus, they know that there are invincible lines that cannot be crossed.”

The implications hang in the air. The others exchange glances, and I can see the mix of fear and intrigue in their eyes.

Tom clears his throat again, ready to speak.

“I think we should also?—”

A loud commotion erupts outside the conference room door. Voices rise, sharp and urgent. “Let me in! I need to see him!”

“What the hell is going on out there?” I mutter in irritation.

“I need to see that bastard!” The voice booms, loud and clear.

The tension in their air thickens, and my fists clench as I relax into my seat.

“I’m sorry, but this meeting will have to continue some other time,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

Without sparing a second, they scramble to their feet and nod at me before leaving the room.

I call my secretary.

“Get whoever it is in here.”

Moments later, the door swings open, and Lorenzo Bianchi storms in, his face flush with rage. The atmosphere shifts instantly, thickening with tension. His presence is electric, crackling with anger. “Dario! You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want?”

Behind him, I spot Emily, my secretary, closing the door with a nervous expression on her face. She knows she’s in deep trouble.

“Lorenzo, what a pleasant surprise, seeing you in my office this early in the morning,” I chuckle, focusing my attention back on the man before me.

He’s now standing directly in front of my desk, with the large mahogany piece of furniture being the only thing separating himfrom me. Satisfaction rolls through me as he releases a low growl from his lips. Idly, I wonder idly if he would punch me if he could, or if he’s still the coward I remember.

“How dare you involve my sister in our issues?” he roars, his face now a deep shade of red.

I lean further into my seat, trying to remain calm as I watch him bang his fists against my table.

“You tried to kill Ginevra to make a stupid statement!” He continues, his voice getting louder at my lack of a response. “How could you bring her into this?”

I smirk, loving where this is going. “Kill? Why, now this is a very serious accusation to make, Lorenzo. Plus I think it’s quite too early such a commotion, don’t you think?” I keep my tone light, but the underlying tension is palpable.

His eyes flash as he leans into the table. “I saw the way you looked at her at the party. I’ve hidden her from you and this sick world all this while for a reason, but the moment you saw her, you decide she was the perfect pawn in your little revenge game!”

“Did you ever stop to think that I was looking at her because she looked so damn hot in that dress?” I snarl, a surge of satisfaction warming my spine at the mix of shock and fury in his eyes.

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