The Don's Young Love (The Don's of Italy Saga Book 2) Age Gap Romance

Episode 3: Don Azeglio

After two weeks since my wife's memorial, I returned to my luxurious penthouse in downtown New York. A former client of mine reached out, requesting an upgrade to the medical software I had installed for him five years prior. He wanted it to be state-of-the-art and asked me and my team to train his staff on how to use it. I accepted the meeting with him and his business administrator, scheduled for 2 pm today.

As I sipped my morning coffee, the memories of the past few weeks flooded my mind. The pain of losing her was still so fresh, but escaping to work seemed like the only way to keep moving forward. After finishing my breakfast and coffee prepared by my chef, I go to the living room, where I hear all my men. My son, who is now my right-hand man, and my brother, Underboss Giacomo, have also returned to New York. As Giacomo emerges from the bathroom looking like he just had an accident, I scold him for leaving the door open.

"Close the damn door, Gia! And while you're at it, why don't you take a shower? No one wants to smell your ass this early in the morning." I bark at him. The others in the room laugh, including my son, who is doubled over in laughter.

"Shut the fuck up! I didn't shit myself. I just have an upset stomach." He retorts before storming off to his penthouse on the 5th floor to change and clean up.

"Pop," my son says once he has regained composure. "What's on your schedule today?"

I take a deep breath and check my phone. "I have no idea," I reply, turning to my assistant Gabrio, who is typing away on his MacBook.

"Gab, can you tell me what meetings are scheduled for today? I know about the 2 pm meeting at DiTullio's Family Health, but is there anything else I need to address?" I ask him. Gabrio has been with me for over a decade - not only as my assistant but also as my enforcer. He has a wife and six children and accompanies me everywhere, along with my brother Giacoma and son Lorenzo, along with a few other men.

"Boss," Gabrio replies without turning from his screen. His fingers never stop their rhythmic dance across the keyboard. "A 10 am call with D'Amico Shipping and Logistics - they've been struggling with their overseas suppliers again. Then nothing until DiTullio's at 2 pm."

I nod, mentally preparing for the day. "D'Amico," I murmur. "They need to get their act together."

Giacoma comes through the front door, freshly showered and dressed in a sleek black suit that screams power. He glances over at Gabrio and barks, "Any updates from the goddamn Bellini family yet?"

Gabrio meets Giacoma's intense gaze with caution. "Nothing yet, but I'll be sure to inform you immediately if anything comes up." My brother is a cold-blooded killer, just like me, or perhaps even more ruthless. His eyes burn with an intensity that chills me to the bone. Together, we make a formidable pair, unstoppable in our pursuit of power and dominance.

The Bellinis have been trying to take over our territory for years now, persistently encroaching on our businesses and ambitions. They're determined to bring their gambling operations into Florence and New York as if there aren't enough territories for them to conquer. It's infuriating.

"Giacoma turns to me, his eyes blazing with anger. "And what about the D'Amico Shipping and Logistics? Are we still having problems with them?" he demands, slamming his hand against the door for emphasis.

"Relax, brother," I say, gesturing for him to sit down. "Gabrio is handling it. We have a call with them in an hour. I'm sure we can iron out their issues. They're not the Bellinis. Don Rocco has no idea how to run a business. I doubt he can even take care of his own basic needs without help from his trusted consigliere."

Giacoma grunts in response, his dark hair streaked with strands of gray, a mirror image of my own. Our father's eyes, light green with a hint of gray, stare back at me from across the table as we both take our seats. My son and brother sit on one leather couch to my right while my assistant Gabrio occupies the other on the left. I sink into my tall black chair, pulling out a cigar with a flick of my wrist and lighting it with a match. As the smoke curls around me, I let out a deep sigh and contemplate the weight of our family legacy resting on my shoulders. The silence hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken tensions and hidden agendas.