Page 5 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
Anders straightened his tie, a gesture of preparation rather than nervousness. “Remember, we observe the old protocols. No weapons in the meeting room, but?—”
“—but always be armed,” Conall finished with a grim smile, patting the inside of his tailored jacket where a ceramic knife rested, undetectable to metal scanners.
The car pulled up to the entrance, where men in dark suits stood at attention. To the untrained eye, they might have appeared to be hotel security. Anders recognized them immediately as Vitale’s elite guards.
“Showtime,” Conall murmured as their driver opened the door.
The three men emerged from the vehicle, their movements synchronized from years of working together. Despite their different builds—Anders broad and imposing, Conall athletic and lithe, Wyatt lean and coiled—they moved as a single unit, a trinity of power that commanded immediate attention.
The hotel lobby fell silent as they entered, conversations dying mid-sentence. Even in a gathering of the city’s most dangerous criminals, the Trinity Syndicate leaders stood apart. It wasn’t just their custom-tailored suits or their confident strides, it was the aura of controlled power that surrounded them, the unmistakable presence of apex alphas who had clawed their way to the top and intended to stay there.
A slim man with silver-streaked hair approached, offering a respectful nod. “Mr. Knight, Mr. O’Reilly, Mr. Slater. The others are assembled in the Venezia Room. If you’ll follow me.”
As they walked through the opulent corridors, Anders noted the strategic placement of security personnel, cataloging faces and positions. Beside him, Conall smiled pleasantly at a passing server, his charm masking his own assessment of potential threats. Wyatt maintained his position slightly behind them, his back never fully exposed to any doorway or corridor. Where his brothers assessed with words and charm, he evaluated through observation, his stormy eyes cataloging every potential threat.
The Venezia Room’s massive double doors stood open, revealing a large oval table surrounded by men whose combined influence controlled everything from city politics to international shipping lanes. At the head of the table sat Stefano Vitale, his dark hair and aristocratic features giving him the appearance of a renaissance painting come to life. Though only thirty-six, he carried himself with the authority of someone born to rule. Beside him sat Matteo Romano, his amber eyes watchful and calculating as they swept over the new arrivals.
Marco Vitale, Stefano’s younger brother, stood by the window, his posture relaxed but alert. At thirty-one, he was already known for his diplomatic skill and strategic mind. Unlike his brother’s traditional approach, Marco embraced modern methods, making him both an asset and occasional source of tension within the Vitale hierarchy.
On the opposite side of the table, Enzo Corsini watched the Trinity’s entrance with undisguised interest. At thirty-six, he had inherited his father’s criminal empire and expanded it with ruthless efficiency, a coldly pragmatic leader whose territory grew more expansive by the month. His dark-blue eyes held a predatory gleam as they locked with Anders’.
Beside him, his brother Dante appeared absorbed in his tablet, but Anders wasn’t fooled. At thirty-four, Dante Corsini was perhaps the most dangerous kind of criminal, one who understood technology better than people. His intelligence had transformed the Corsini operations, bringing them into the digital age with sophisticated systems for money laundering and surveillance.
Completing the Corsini trio was Alessio Corsini, standing behind Enzo’s chair like a sentinel. His muscled frame and combat-ready posture told the story of a man trained from childhood to be the family’s enforcer. At thirty-three, he commanded absolute loyalty from the syndicate’s soldiers and maintained the family’s fearsome reputation on the streets.
“The Trinity arrives,” Stefano announced, rising to his feet. “Now we can begin.”
Anders inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect but not submission. The relationship between the Trinity Syndicate and the Vitale Brotherhood was complex; they were neither enemies nor allies, but rather two powers maintaining a careful balance.
“Stefano,” Anders acknowledged, his deep voice carrying easily across the room. “Matteo. Marco.” His gaze swept over the assembled leaders, pausing briefly on Enzo Corsini. “Gentlemen.”
The Trinity took their designated seats, forming their own power triangle within the larger assembly. Anders sat directly across from Stefano, a strategic position that wasn’t lost on anyone present. Conall settled to his right, his posture relaxed but alert, while Wyatt took the left, his back to the wall with a clear view of both exits. His silence spoke volumes in a room where power was typically measured in words.
“Before we address the agenda,” Stefano began, his voice carrying the refined edge of old money and classical education,“I believe congratulations are in order. The Trinity Syndicate’s expansion into the tech sector has been impressive.”
The words carried a double meaning that everyone present understood. The “tech sector” referred to the Trinity’s sophisticated new money laundering operation that had recently absorbed several smaller operations.
“Innovation is necessary for survival,” Anders replied smoothly. “As is adaptation.”
Matteo leaned forward slightly, his amber eyes narrowing. “Indeed. Though some might argue that rapid expansion creates vulnerabilities.”
Conall smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Only if one lacks the resources to secure what they claim.”
From his position by the window, Marco Vitale chuckled softly. “Always so direct, the Trinity. It’s refreshing in its way.” He moved to take his seat beside his brother. “Perhaps we should discuss the harbor situation before tensions rise further.”
Enzo Corsini’s lips curved into a predatory smile. “By all means, let’s discuss the harbor. Particularly the eastern docks that have remained underutilized by current management.”
“Underutilized is a matter of perspective,” Wyatt countered, his tone carrying an edge of steel despite the brevity of his response.
Dante looked up from his tablet for the first time, his hazel eyes sharp with intelligence. “Reserved for what, exactly? Your shipping containers have decreased by seventeen percent over the last quarter. Our analysis suggests you’re operating at less than sixty percent capacity.”
Anders felt a flicker of grudging respect. Dante’s intelligence gathering was impressive—and concerning. The Trinity had kept those numbers closely guarded.
“Numbers can be misleading,” Conall interjected smoothly. “Especially when viewed without context.”
Alessio shifted his weight behind Enzo’s chair, the movement subtle but threatening. “Context is for academics. Results are what matter in our world.”
The subtle exchange of challenges and warnings continued as the meeting progressed, each faction presenting grievances and proposals with the polished veneer of business negotiations. Beneath the civility, ancient grudges and territorial ambitions simmered. This was the delicate dance of predators forced to share hunting grounds.
