HIS

Chapter 3

Domenico's POV

Seated on the private flight from Italy to New York, my mind was already knee-deep in the chaos waiting for me across the Atlantic. There were too many fires to put out—delayed shipments on the less-than-legal side of business, whispers of theft, and suppliers cutting corners with product quality. Clients were getting restless, and that meant revenue was bleeding. I needed to get to the bottom of it—fast.

Some of these rats were getting bold, skimming money in small amounts across different departments. It wasn't enough to trigger alarms individually, but together, it added up to a fourteen-million-dollar loss over six months. That's not a leak—it's a hemorrhage. And all signs pointed to New York.

On the surface, I'm the CEO of Mancini Holdings, a legitimate enterprise that umbrellas several smaller companies. It's the perfect front to clean the money flowing in from the Mafia's operations. You don't move that kind of cash without raising eyebrows unless you've got a clean, polished empire to funnel it through.

I finished school early, wrapped up college ahead of schedule, and launched my first company at twenty. With a sharp mind and unlimited funds from my family, I turned it into a powerhouse in under two years. The Mafia side of the business was handed to me four years ago when my father decided to step back and focus on his marriage. He wanted to give my mother the life she deserved—lavish vacations, undivided attention, peace. She's, his queen. And mine too.

They didn't always have it easy. My father's obsession with the business nearly cost them everything. Mom nearly left him more than once. But in our family, divorce isn't an option unless there's infidelity or abuse. Thankfully, it never came to that. I also have a younger sister, Victoria—five years my junior and, according to Mom, a surprise addition to the family.

As for me, I'm twenty-six, single, and likely to stay that way. With the life I lead, commitment feels like a liability. I won't lie—there's a different woman in my bed most nights, and I feel no guilt about it. Maybe that's why I haven't found someone worth settling down with. Most women I meet are after money, status, or both. They want the shortcut to luxury, not the journey.

The kind of woman worth changing for? She's probably locked away in her parents' house, far from men like me.

Luca, my closest friend and right-hand man, has been with me since kindergarten. He's more like a brother than a friend. When his parents died in a car crash at nineteen, my family took him in without hesitation. He's been part of us ever since. He still believes in love—idolizes my parents' relationship—but his taste in women is tragic. Gold diggers, every one of them. He's a magnet for heartbreak.

I wasn't always this jaded. I had someone once—a girl I loved deeply back in college. Blonde, beautiful, and utterly selfish. She taught me that love can be a weakness, a distraction from your goals. I buried that chapter long ago.

To pass the time on the flight, I reviewed the numbers from our drug shipments over the past six months. The math didn't add up. Someone was stealing from me, and I needed answers. Fast.

"Hey, Luca," I said, glancing up from the report.

"Mmm?" he replied, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Do you know where Uncle Marco will be when we land?"

Marco—my mother's brother—is our go-to guy in New York. He's got ears on the streets and a mind built for strategy. He's also the only person I trust to help flush out the traitors in my organization.

"He should be at the club. That's basically his second home," Luca replied, flipping a page like the old soul he pretends to be.

"Good. We'll head there first. No time to waste."

Once we landed, we climbed into the waiting black SUVs with tinted windows and made the twenty-minute drive to the club. The streets were buzzing—it was a typical Friday night in the city.

Sure enough, Marco was on his usual bench across from the club, casually munching on nuts like he didn't have a care in the world. That bench was his throne. He called it his "office," and somehow, he always knew everything that happened inside and out.

As we pulled up, he stood and grinned. "Hey, my boys! I was about to curse whoever blocked my view, but then I saw it was you two."

He pulled us both into hugs, ignoring my attempt at a handshake.

"Hey, Uncle Marco. How's the wife?" I asked.

"We're good, son. But when are you two bringing wives of your own, huh? You need to keep the bloodline going."

I chuckled. "You know I don't have time for all that. Women come with mood swings and drama."

"Yeah, old man," Luca added. "They're nothing but trouble."

Marco's smile faded. "You'll regret that mindset one day. This life gets lonelier the older you get."

I shifted the conversation. "Any intel on who's been stealing from me?"

He nodded, serious now. "It's time to clean house. I've heard whispers from the northern block. The guy handling your pick-ups? He's running his own side hustle—using your network to build his own. Start there. Set a trap if you have to. I'll send you the details."

"Appreciate it, Uncle. How's the club been?" Luca asked.

Before Marco could answer, his attention shifted. His face lit up as a girl approached.

She looked like she didn't belong in this world—too pure, too untouched. Long, jet-black hair, soft freckles, full lips, and eyes like blue fire. Her body was stunning, but it was her innocence that caught me off guard. She didn't look like someone who'd ever been tainted by men like me.

And Marco... he looked genuinely fond of her. That piqued my curiosity. He'd never cheat on his wife, and she didn't seem the type to chase older men. So, who was she?

Oh, Uncle Marco... who is this girl to you?

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