Page 68 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Prince

The silence is oppressive, a weight that presses down on us all. My men and associates exchange uneasy glances, their faces lit only by the faint glow of the headlights. They know better than to speak out of turn and to offer any information that might be construed as disloyal.

I puff on my cigar again, the smoke curling upwards. Seeing as nobody is saying anything, I leave the warehouse, my anger refusing to subside.

“Find me who the fuck is messing with my products and fucking kill them. All of them.”

I can’t bear the thought of failing, having come this far—planned this long. My fists clench so tightly that my knuckles become numb.

I reach my car, and I can literally feel the tension oozing off me.

“Drive,” I instruct my driver as I slide into the backseat.

Another shipment has vanished right under my nose. They must think I’m weak. Someone’s messing with me and heaven knows they’re going to fucking regret it. I’m at my wit’s end; my patience is worn thin.

I can feel the tension building in my head, my temples throbbing with a dull ache. I rub them, trying to ward off the headache that’s brewing.

Vito approaches me as I arrive home. His movements are quiet and subservient as I get out of the car and walk towards my house.

“I want to be left alone.”

His eyes are turned downward, as if he’s trying to apologize as he turns deaf ears to my words. He hands me my phone, his hands shaking slightly.

“Someone’s been trying to reach you, sir,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I look at the phone, uninterested. “I don’t care,” I growl, waving my hand dismissively. “Tell them to fuck off.”

Vito nods and scurries away, but he’s back moments later, phone in hand. “I’m sorry, sir, but they’re insisting on speaking with you. It’s quite urgent, sir.”

I would rather be left alone to go through the plans in my head and figure out the best way to deal with whoever’s been opposing me but I keep all that aside for now.

“Who is it?” I demand, my voice rising.

Vito hesitates before answering, “It is Mateo, sir.”

My expression darkens. Mateo fucking Caruso?

“What the fuck does he want from me?” My voice is raised in anger.

“He says it’s about the shipments.”

If he is the fucking one responsible for everything, I’ll gut him out alive.

My interest piques, and I snatch the phone from Vito’s hand. “Are you behind this?”

The voice on the other end is husky and thick, like a cloud of smoke that curls around my ears. “Ah, Luca, good to finally speak with you.”

I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Before you jump to conclusions, Luca, no, I am not behind your stolen shipments. Rather, I want to help you.”

“What do you want, Caruso?” Nothing is without a cost in this business. It’s a game we all play.

Mateo chuckles, the sound low and gravelly. “I want to make a deal, Luca. A trade.”

My curiosity is piqued even more now. What could a Caruso possibly have to offer that I’d be interested in? “What kind of trade?” I ask gruffly, my mind filling with possibilities.

“That’s what I’m calling to talk about,” he replies, his tone measured. “Let’s just say it’s something that will benefit both our families.”

I hesitate a bit, my instincts screaming warning signals. Something about Mateo’s tone puts me on edge. He sounds too confident, too self-assured. I decide to play along for now because I’m itching to hear what he has to say. “I’m listening,” I growl, still wary.

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