Silk & Steel: A Mafia Romance | ENGLOT

Chapter 1: City Lights and Shadows

The air in The Gilded Cage shimmered with a cocktail of expensive perfume and desperation. Sequined dresses swished like mermaid tails, and laughter, both genuine and practiced, rose above the rhythmic pulse of the music. Wyvern, capo donna of the Famiglia Dragoni Rossi, Italy's second-largest gang, surveyed the scene with a detached amusement. Her obsidian eyes, usually as sharp as stiletto blades, softened slightly with boredom.

Wyvern wasn't there for the usual Gilded Cage fare. Girls with painted-on smiles and come-hither gazes held no allure for her. Booze, even the finest vintage, did little to quench the thirst for power that constantly gnawed at her. The Cage was simply her office away from the prying eyes of her own lieutenants.

Tonight's meeting was with a low-level boss from a rival outfit, a man whose name escaped her even as he approached, a greasy smile plastered on his face.

"Signora Wyvern," he oozed, bowing slightly, "a pleasure as always." His eyes, however, darted towards the exposed expanse of her shoulder in a way that made her lip curl.

Wyvern gave a curt nod, unimpressed.  This was a nightly occurrence.  Men, both powerful and wannabe, used their "business" meetings as pathetic attempts at flirtation. She'd heard every cheesy line in the book, from compliments about her "killer instincts" to propositions veiled as romantic gestures. None of it interested her. 

"Hai la spedizione, Wyvern?" (You got the shipment, Wyvern?) The man, Stefan started, his voice a touch higher than usual. "Si dice in giro che i tuoi ragazzi abbiano avuto qualche problema al porto la scorsa settimana." (Word on the street is your boys had a bit of trouble at the docks last week.)

Wyvern chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Quelli erano novellini troppo zelanti, Stefan. Adesso dormono con i pesci. La mia gente sa come comportarsi con discrezione." (Those were overzealous newbies, Stefan. Now they're sleeping with the fishes. My people know how to handle themselves discreetly.)

Stefan swallowed hard. Discreetly was one way to put it. The Dragoni Rossi weren't known for their subtlety, but that was exactly why they were reliable.  He cleared his throat.

"Right, of course. So, about the... merchandise." He slid a worn briefcase across the table. Wyvern snapped it open with practiced ease, revealing a gleaming array of pistols nestled in crimson velvet. Her eyes gleamed with a predator's satisfaction.

"Berettas," she muttered, running a calloused finger down the smooth barrel of one. "Classic, reliable. You know I have a preference for quality, Stefan."

"Of course, Wyvern," Stefan stammered. "Just the top of the line.  These came straight from a... uh... private collector." He avoided her gaze. Wyvern knew better. There were no private collectors when it came to these kinds of toys.  But she also knew picking at details wouldn't get her anywhere.

"The usual price?" she asked, her voice flat.

Stefan hesitated. "Actually, Wyvern... there's a slight... complication."

Wyvern raised an eyebrow, a silent question. Stefan squirmed.

"See, these Berettas, they came with a little... bonus." He gestured towards a wrapped package tucked in a corner of the briefcase. Wyvern's eyes narrowed. The Dragoni Rossi had a strict code: weapons and drugs, yes. Human cargo? Never.