Page 40 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Once, it was a vanity project designed to mimic the orangeries of old Sicilian villas, all curved glass and wrought iron, built not for farming but for the cultivation of rare orchids and other imported blooms that had no business thriving in this climate.
Now, vines claw against the arches and moss feathers the stone tiles beneath the benches, but the interior still hums with warmth from the residual heat caught in the glass.
Valentina waits near the back, dressed in a simple light-pink dress, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow, one hand cupped around a pair of shears.
She clips a dying stem and doesn’t look up when she speaks.
"Whatever this is, it’s not a social call."
I step over the threshold, letting the door fall shut behind me.
"No, it’s not."
She sets the shears down on the edge of the fountain, brushes a curl of hair behind her ear, and turns to face me fully.
Her face is as beautiful and remote as ever.
"You asked for a private meeting. You got one. Use it wisely."
"I want an assignment," I say, careful to keep my tone neutral. "Somewhere far. Somewhere clean."
She arches a brow.
"You’ve become indispensable here. Why uproot that?"
"Because I can serve you better if I’m not tangled in local allegiances. There are deals to be made outside Nuova Speranza—old networks that still owe loyalty to the Rossis, ports and partners who might be more cooperative if they weren’t reporting to a city they associate with violence and ruin."
She looks deep into my eyes for a moment longer.
"You want to disappear."
I say nothing.
She steps around the marble basin, picking up a sprig of mint and crushing it slowly between her fingers.
The scent cuts through the damp air, sharp and green.
"Does this have to do with Dante?"
It’s no secret that the Salvatore family has become well aware of my position with the youngest brother.
However, to their credit, they understand I’ve never mixed business with pleasure.
I meet her eyes and lie without blinking. "No."
For a moment, the silence stretches between us.
Then she nods once.
"You’re aware that any placement abroad will be temporary. And if you’re trying to escape scandal, this won’t shield you forever."
"I’m not hiding," I reply calmly. "I’m repositioning."
Valentina considers me a moment longer, then moves to a drawer tucked beneath the potting shelf and draws out a folder.
It’s slim, but official; a transfer document, blank and waiting.
"There’s an opening in Singapore," she says. "Quiet. Profitable. Off the grid, mostly. We’ve had difficulty keeping agents there long-term, but it’s stable enough for someone with your level of discipline. You’ll work under our joint East Asia front. No backup. No headlines. Full discretion."
