"Nobody is allowed between these pretty little thighs but me....and if anyone tries...𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦."
~
They call him The King-a ghost who rules the world's most powerful mafia from the shadows. No face. No mercy. No mistakes.
And beside...
-"I shall not bow to a King who wears a crown studded with the jewels of every life he's taken."-
______________________________
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"So...?"
The word cut through the air like a match strike.
Luca stood out on the penthouse balcony, one hand on the railing, the other lifting a cigar to his lips. A curl of smoke escaped—dark chocolate, spice, and something faintly bitter. The Manhattan skyline stretched before him like a glittering illusion. Untrustworthy. Just like everyone in this goddamn city.
Behind him, the flames from the firepit danced low and restless. Matteo lounged in one of the chairs, ankle crossed over his knee, but his posture was tight—coiled. Antonio stood beside the pit, arms folded, knuckles pale.
They were waiting.
Luca didn't turn.
"I think she's onto us," he said finally, voice low and unreadable.
Antonio straightened. "How? What did she say?"
"She said we want to infiltrate," Luca quoted, exhaling slowly through his nose. "And she wants peace."
Matteo leaned forward, elbow on his knee. "That could mean anything. She has to assume everyone has bad intentions. That's not confirmation."
Antonio stepped closer to the railing. "Right. She's reading the board, not your cards."
Luca nodded absently. He still wasn't facing them.
"She's good," he murmured. There was a pause. The wind cut through the rooftop, lifting the edge of Luca's suit jacket.
"Speaking of confirmation," he added, tone deliberately casual, "I signed something."
Matteo's head jerked up. Antonio froze mid-step.
"What?" Antonio snapped. "What the fuck did you sign?"
Luca finally turned halfway, the ember at the end of his cigar glowing like a dying star.
"I can't remember."
Silence.
"What the hell do you mean you can't remember?" Matteo's voice sharpened.
"I mean, I sat down across from her, and the next thing I knew, I was signing something and forgetting to ask for a copy." He took a final drag, jaw flexing. "She did something. I don't know what. Call it voodoo. Call it misdirection. I wasn't focused."
Antonio swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ. You're not this sloppy."
"I was distracted," Luca muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It won't happen again."
