Page 1 of Reckless Games

Prologue

12 Months Ago; Angela: 23, Lorenzo: 30

Lorenzo

I stood amidst the crowd, my eyes fixed on the casket as it descended into the waiting earth. The atmosphere was heavy with sorrow, but I remained cold. My exterior was a facade of stoicism. Inside, my emotions lay dormant, buried beneath layers of ice. In the world of the mafia, showing vulnerability was akin to signing one's own death warrant.

My father—the former Capo of the Sicilian Mafia—now lay at rest. I could not afford to mourn. To do so would be to expose a chink in my armor—an invitation for rivals to strike. Not like I felt the need to anyway. Growing up in the mafia, emotional detachment becomes ingrained in our very essence. It flows through our veins like an unyielding current, shaping our every thought and action.

Although Sicily was my hometown, my roots ran deep throughout Italy. My name and reputation were well-known, and people were wise enough to turn and walk the other way when they saw me coming. It was safe to say that my mafia held dominance over both Sicily and Italy, realms that were not so different from one another.

I watched as the final clods of earth covered the casket, sealing my father's fate. In the unforgiving landscape of ourreality, tears were the only luxury I gave up on at the age of twelve. Weakness was not an option.

My mind drifted to my father’s final words:'In the harsh reality of our world, to reveal weakness is to court one's demise.’

He had expected me to follow in his footsteps and carry on his legacy. And so I did, for I was his only son.

“Lorenzo,” I turned to see Declan—the leader of the Irish Mafia—standing a few steps away from me. “I'm sorry for your loss. Emir and Leonardo couldn’t make it. However, they asked me to forward their condolences as well.” I gave him a single nod. Emir was the head of the Turkish Mafia, while Leonardo was leading the Spanish Mafia.

“Thanks for coming all the way. I appreciate it.”

"No need for formalities. There's a reason I established theorder," Declan said. He was the mastermind behind the Obsidian Order—an alliance, or, in other words, a peace treaty, between the four Mafias, obligating us to join forces in times of need. It was a strategic move, minimizing internal conflicts and bolstering our strength against a common threat. The rules were straightforward: no attacks or territorial disputes among us, and mutual defense in the face of external threats. We initially formed it to keep the trouble off of our heads, but over the years, the alliance developed into a friendship. “I wish I could stay longer, but there are a few things that need my attention.”

“Very well then,” we shook hands before he took his leave.

The funeral had ended, and my men were beginning to resume their duties when Giovanni—my right hand and most trusted man—interrupted me. “Antonio has been trying to reach you for a while.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. Of course, Ijustneeded that. Note the sarcasm. I was about to tell Giovanni to let my uncle know I was busy, but he beat me to it. “Before you tellme to get him off your shoulder for the umpteenth time, know that he said it’s important.”

“Of course that snake would say that. He couldn’t be bothered about attending his brother’s funeral and expects me to see him.”

“Ok then,” he dismissed the topic. “I got a call from the base. The shipment has been received; the money was transferred.” Giovanni continued to follow me as I drove back to the mansion. The ride back was short, a total of five minutes, if not less.

“Good.” I entered my room, taking off my coat and loosening my tie before pulling it off and discarding it on the bed. “And the update on the weapons?”

“They have been cleared on the border. The truck will arrive at the base in two hours,” Giovanni answered. Dismissing him, I went to take a soothing shower.

Once done relaxing my muscles under the warm water, I came with a towel hanging loose on my waist when my phone’s ringtone broke the silence of the room. I frowned, looking at the fact that it was from an unknown number. Upon receiving it, I stayed quiet until the person on the other end finally decided to break the silence.

"So now I’m not even worthy of your greetings?" I rolled my eyes, realizing it was my greatest uncle calling from a different number. Probably because I never answer his personal one.

“How can I help you?” I was not in the mood for bullshit.

“Straight to the point, I see. Well, then have it your way since you are so unwilling to have a civil conversation. I thought I should let you know that I might have news on something that belonged to your father.” Could it be possible?

“What are you scheming thi—”

“The address and time will be texted. You know what to do after that,” he cut me off before hanging up. That rat.

***

"What if he's bluffing?" Giovanni's voice was laced with skepticism as we stepped into the dimly lit club.

"I know he is," I reassured him, my strides brimming with confidence. With each step, the crowd seemed to part effortlessly, granting us a path through the pulsating chaos of the club.

“Then why are we doing this?”

“There is something I want to find out.” The thumping bass of the music reverberated through the air, but it couldn't drown out the aura of authority that surrounded us. “Keep the men on alert.”

As we made our way through the club, one of my uncle's men recognized us from across the room. With a nod of acknowledgment, he approached, his eyes giving us a once-over before gesturing towards a secluded corner. Following his lead, we headed towards a private booth, the thumping bass of the music fading into the background as we stepped into the relative quiet of the secluded area. But just as Giovanni was about to enter, the man halted him with a firm hand on his chest.

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