Page 80 of Lord of Obsession

He nods, professional focus returning as we shift from private intimacy to operational mode. "I'll brief the team while you review thethreat assessment." His hand finds the small of my back as we move toward the secure office that occupies the villa's east wing. "Then perhaps we can revisit the issue of our limited schedule."

The promise in his voice sends another wave of heat through my body, but years of self-discipline allow me to maintain professional focus. For now, at least. The morning stretches ahead, filled with obligations and responsibilities that come with the empire we've built together.

An empire founded not on blood or violence, but on choice. On partnership. On the explicit decision to belong to each other in ways neither of our families could understand.

The morning light strengthens as we move through our home, casting long shadows that dance across imported marble and ancient stone. Another day in the life we've created from the ashes of our old existences. Another day of building something permanent, something true, something neither of our families could destroy.

The Castellani Groupheadquarters rises like a fortress of glass and steel above Barcelona's business district. Perfect views of the Mediterranean from the upper floors, clear sight lines to all approaching streets, and security systems sophisticated enough to make even my father's operations look primitive by comparison. The building itself serves as a statement: we are here, we are legitimate, and we are untouchable.

I stride through the main lobby, nodding to security personnel who maintain the illusion of standard corporate protection while actually comprising former special forces operatives from three different countries. The biometric scanner reads my palm print before the executive elevator opens, another layer of security disguised as executive privilege.

"The Jakarta team is ready in Conference Room C," Maya informs me as I reach the executive floor. She's been our operations director for three years now, recruited away from Interpol with promises of resources they could never provide and moral latitude they would never allow. Her loyalty is absolute, though not based on fear or family obligation—the foundation I insisted on when we began building our organization.

"And Dario?" I ask, accepting the tablet she offers. The screen displays multiple threat assessments for the Southeast Asian corridor, each one meticulously detailed with sources I'd rather not examine too closely.

"Already briefing the advance team." She falls into step beside me, her stride matching mine with the unconscious precision of a natural soldier. "The diplomatic credentials arrived this morning. Full immunity for our entire security detail."

Satisfaction settles in my chest as another piece of our carefully constructed operation locks into place. Diplomatic immunity means our people can move freely through territories previously controlled by families like mine and Dario's. It means expanding our legitimate security operations while gathering intelligence that keeps both our families' influence at bay.

"The Martinez Foundation board has approved the additional funding," I tell her as we approach the conference room. "Humanitarian security operations in three new territories beginning next month."

Maya's smile carries genuine pride. "The foundation's reputation opens doors even faster than we projected. Governments practically beg for our involvement now."

"As they should." The certainty in my voice surprises even me. Five years ago, I was still struggling to reconcile the man I tried to be with the man I actually am. Now, I embrace both aspects without apology: the strategic mind trained by Salvatore twisted toward purposes he never envisioned, coupled with the moral framework I developed during my academic years.

The conference room falls silent as I enter, twenty faces turning toward me with expressions ranging from respect to carefully concealed fear. Our security teams know exactly who Dario and I were before becoming David and Raymond Castellani. They understand the power structures we navigated and the bloodlines we rejected. It only enhances their effectiveness.

Dario stands at the head of the table, his presentation paused mid-slide. His public persona—polished, professional, with danger carefully leashed beneath designer suits—is perfectly calibrated for these briefings. OnlyI see the heat that flashes in his eyes when our gazes meet across the polished teak table.

"Raymond," he acknowledges with formal precision. Five years of practice has made our professional facade second nature. "I was just outlining the Jakarta security protocols."

I take my place beside him, our shoulders nearly touching as I face the assembled team. "The diplomatic delegation arrives Thursday. The foundation's humanitarian corridor opens the following Tuesday." My voice carries the authority bred into me since childhood, though now it serves a purpose I've chosen rather than one thrust upon me. "This operation represents our most significant expansion into territory previously controlled by traditional power structures."

The unspoken meaning isn't lost on anyone present. Traditional power structures means families like the ones Dario and I were born into. Syndicates that maintained generations of control through violence and fear, now finding their influence eroded by our careful, legitimate encroachment.

"Communications protocols remain at highest level encryption," Dario continues, advancing his presentation to display securitysectors mapped across Jakarta's sprawling districts. "Assets are compartmentalized, with knowledge limited to operational necessity. The standard approach when dealing with territories where traditional organizations maintain intelligence networks."

Again, the euphemisms aren't lost on our people. Traditional organizations. Family operations. The ghost of both our pasts, transformed into clinical terminology for briefing purposes.

I scan the assembled team, noting their focused attention and professional demeanor. Each one carefully vetted, thoroughly trained, and absolutely loyal to the organization Dario and I have built. Not through fear or intimidation, but through shared purpose and exceptional compensation. Power structured on choice rather than coercion—the foundation we established from the beginning.

"Questions?" I invite, though I already know there will be few. Our operational briefings have evolved into well-orchestrated performances, each element carefully calibrated to reinforce confidence and clarity.

A section leader raises his hand, his expression betraying nothing of the formerIsraeli intelligence background that makes him invaluable. "Contingency protocols if we encounter direct opposition from local interests?"

Dario's smile carries sharp edges despite his professional demeanor. "Diplomatic channels remain our first response. Foundation contacts provide legitimate cover for all operations." His eyes flick toward mine briefly before continuing. "However, should direct threat materialize, you're authorized for appropriate countermeasures within established parameters."

The room understands exactly what those parameters entail. We've built our organization on legitimate operations, but we maintain capacity for decisive action when circumstances demand. The legacy of our training, repurposed toward protecting what we've created rather than expanding family territories.

The briefing continues for another forty minutes, each operational detail examined with mechanical precision. When it concludes, the team files out with practiced efficiency, leaving Dario and me alone in the conference room. The silence settles between us, comfortable after years of shared purpose.

"Torres confirmed another probe attempt against our secure servers," he informs me, voice dropping now that we've shed our corporate personas. "Digital fingerprints that match Valenti security protocols. Your father remains persistent."

"Salvatore," I correct automatically. Even after five years, I refuse to grant him the title of father beyond biological fact. "And persistence without progress is just stubbornness. His digital operations can't touch our secure networks."

Dario's laugh carries genuine amusement beneath its sharp edge. "Still, five years of consistent attempts shows dedication."

"Or desperation." I move to the windows, taking in Barcelona's skyline stretching toward the sea. "The old power structures are failing. Not just my family's, but all of them. The systems they built relied on isolation and fear, both of which technology has rendered increasingly obsolete."

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