Page 59 of Prince of Vice

"Charlie, tell me the truth," I begin, my voice steady despite the storm raging within. "Do you truly believe I'm fit to lead?"

He gazes at me with a mixture of surprise and contemplation, his eyes narrowing as he searches his memories. "Primo, I remember you as a boy – fierce, determined, and unyielding in your pursuit of what was right for our family. Over the years, I've watched you grow into a man who wields power with wisdom and cunning while maintaining an ironclad loyalty to those you care for."

"Is that enough, though?" I ask, my heart aching from Charlie's words.

"Perhaps this is the moment where you must decide for yourself," he answers thoughtfully. "Just because the position may be yours doesn't mean you need to take it. You must evaluate what you truly want in life and follow that path."

"Thank you, Charlie," I murmur, gratitude filling me for the wisdom he has shared.

As he leaves my office, I sink into my chair, lost in thought. I never considered a life outside of organized crime; it was always Giovanni who dared to dream of a different existence. My mind drifts to Isabella. I yearn for more with her, but I know all too well that a life of crime offers no future for someone like her.

Would she even consider exploring something deeper with me once this trial is over? If I manage to clear my name, could we forge a new path together? The uncertainty gnaws at me, but one thing remains clear: I cannot bear the thought of losing her.

"First for me," I whisper, repeating Charlie's earlier advice. Perhaps it's time I choose my own destiny, one that might bring me closer to a passionate, captivating woman.

"Primo, non farti illusioni," I murmur to myself, inhaling the scent of leather and aged whiskey that permeates my office. Charlie's words still resonates within me, but there's a part of me that refuses to let go of the hope for something more, something beyond this life of crime.

"Isabella," I breathe her name like a prayer, as if invoking her presence could somehow soothe the tempest inside me. I allow my mind to wander through the tantalizing possibilities of a life with her, exploring every one of our darkest desires together, unraveling the mysteries of each other's bodies and souls. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine, arousal coursing through my veins.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair in frustration. It's clear that these feelings for Isabella run deeper than I ever imagined, a wellspring of emotion I've never experienced before with any other woman. But how can I dare to dream of a future when its very existence remains uncertain?

"Focus, Primo," I chastise myself, forcing my thoughts away from the intoxicating allure of what might be and back to the reality at hand. There's work to be done, responsibilities to fulfill, and a life to salvage—if only I can find the strength to make the hard choices that lie ahead.

"Isabella's brilliant, but she's not infallible," I reason, acknowledging the forces conspiring against us, the enemies who would prefer to see me locked away for good. "I can't rely on her alone to save me. I need to take control of my own destiny."

With renewed determination, I dive back into the sea of paperwork and phone calls that consume my days, immersing myself in the relentless demands of my world.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Isabella

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow through my window. Papers are strewn across my desk, evidence of hours spent poring over trial preparations. My phone beeps, slicing through the silence of my apartment like a knife. I glance down at the screen, eyes widening as I read the text message.

Throw the trial and your father's debts will be forgiven.

It's from an anonymous number, but the words are unmistakable. I know exactly who sent this message. My fingers tremble as they grip the phone, the cold metal pressing into my skin. The deal with Primo was always clear: win his trial, and he would take care of my father's debts. But winning the trial is far from certain, a stormy sea threatening to capsize us both.

Throwing the trial, though? That would be easy - almost too easy. I could do it in a heartbeat. A single slip-up, one misplaced word or document, and everything would come crashing down. I’d be free of the loan sharks for good. No more looking over my shoulder. No more living in fear. The temptation coils inside me, a serpent whispering foul promises.

"Stop it," I hiss under my breath, smacking my cheeks as if to physically chase away the treacherous thoughts. "What am I even thinking?"

Why would I allow myself to even consider this? I could never betray Primo like that, not when I'm starting to... I sigh, admitting the truth to myself. Fall for him. The thought sends warmth blooming through my chest, an unexpected burst of color against the stark black-and-white world I've been navigating since diving into his case.

"Absolutely not," I murmur, shaking my head. "I won't play a dirty game like this."

To throw the trial would make me no better than my father – perhaps even worse. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I force myself to set the phone aside, refusing to give the text message any more of my attention.

Instead, I turn back to the papers scattered across my desk, determination surging through me like a current. I will win Primo's trial on its merits, and I know – deep in my bones, with a certainty that burns like fire – that he will keep his word.

The phone rings, jolting me from my reverie. I pick up with cautious curiosity when I see the caller.

"Isabella," Primo's voice is like velvet on the other end, "how are you doing? How are the trial preparations coming?"

"Primo," I breathe, instantly feeling a pang of longing for him. It's been days since I've set foot in the mansion, immersed in the case and determined to remain undistracted. My mind constantly wanders back to him, yearning for him, but I know that if I go back there, I'll be pulled into another one of our darkly enticing scenes, unable to focus on what truly matters. "I'm good. Preparations are going well."

"Isabella," he says, his tone more serious, "I've thought about it, and I'm willing to take the route where we implicate Constantino to clear my name."

My heart leaps at his words, knowing this decision could cost him dearly in his tumultuous relationship with his brother. "Primo, I know how hard of a decision this must be for you. But, I do think you’re making the right one."

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