Page 7 of Prince of Vice

"Nice to meet you," Giovanni says warmly, extending his hand.

"Likewise," I reply, shaking his hand firmly, trying to convey confidence despite feeling like an intruder in this dangerous world.

"Let me show you around." Primo leads me away from his brothers, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.

We continue through the lavish halls of the mansion, Primo recounting tales of his family's history. He speaks of their rise to power, the legacy he's expected to uphold. I can't ignore the pride in his voice, nor the responsibility that seems to bear down on him.

"Over here," he gestures toward an ornate door, "is where our great-grandfather held court." He opens it to reveal a lavish room filled with dark wood and crimson drapes. "He built this empire, and now it falls to me, to us, to maintain it."

I observe the room, my mind racing with thoughts of the crimes committed within these walls, the lives affected by the Maldonado family's ruthless pursuit of power. And yet, there's a part of me that longs to know Primo's true nature, the man beneath the imposing exterior. In the short time I’ve spent with him, he’s shown glimpses of it. On the outside, he’s all bite, but when I look into his eyes, I can see the weariness and uncertainty there. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it makes me believe there’s a human being underneath his gruff exterior.

"Are you frightened, Isabella?" Primo asks, his voice softening slightly. The vulnerability catches me off guard, another drip in the bucket showing me that maybe there is more to Primo than what he lets the world see. I find myself trying to find the right words before responding.

"Of course not," I lie, forcing a smile on my face. Because the truth is that I am scared, very scared. I desperately don’t want to end up like my father, and I know that representing Primo could lead me down a one way path. More than that, the very world that Primo runs, the one that I’m now a part of, is more than enough to keep me up at night.

"Indeed," he says, the hardness returning to his voice. "Let's get to work then, shall we?"

As we continue our tour of the mansion, my mind races with questions.

You’re on trial for murder, and maybe you didn’t kill this victim, but how many men have died under your control?

What sorts of criminal enterprises are you running now?

Am I really capable of winning this trial for you?

I shake off the self doubt that tries to creep in with the shadows. I tell myself that I can win this case, even if it means getting closer to Primo Maldonado than I ever intended.

The tour comes to an abrupt end as Primo opens the doors to his office, a striking contrast to the rest of the Maldonado mansion. The room is drenched in sunlight, streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows on the sleek, modern furniture that fills the space.

"Welcome to your new workspace," Primo announces with an air of smug satisfaction. I take in the sight before me – my own desk, set up meticulously in front of his larger one, as if I were his personal assistant. The audacity of it all is almost laughable.

"Let me be clear, Mr. Maldonado," I say, standing as tall as my five-foot-five frame allows and locking eyes with him. "I will not be moving into this mansion, nor will I let you lord over me."

He leans casually against his desk, studying me with an amused expression. "Isabella, darling, we've already wasted precious time. If you’re going to be my lawyer, you'll work on my case here, full time. It's non-negotiable."

"Actually, it is negotiable," I retort, not allowing myself to back down. "I have other clients, and I will not abandon them or my life just because you want to keep me under your thumb."

Primo raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his silence only fueling my determination. He stares at me intensely. “Strike two, Moretti. You’re already proving yourself incapable of following the most basic of rules. Are you sure you really want this case? Because, you haven’t convinced me.”

"Fine," I relent, deciding to pick my battles. “We can discuss it later.” As I settle into the chair at my temporary desk, I notice the wealth of evidence stacked neatly before me. Despite my irritation with Primo, I can't help but feel a thrill at diving into the case – unraveling the truth, piece by piece.

As I begin sifting through documents, Primo watches me intently. I can feel his gaze, but I refuse to let it distract me. Instead, I focus on the task at hand, allowing my mind to become fully immersed in the world of organized crime and courtroom battles.

“I’ve already sent discovery requests to the prosecution,” I tell him. “A full list of interrogatories plus a lengthy request for production of documents. We should have those within three days.”

Primo just continues to watch me, not commenting on anything I’m saying.

“What we do have is everything the prosecution presented to the Magistrate in order to get you arrested in the first place,” I say, pointing to the documents in front of me. “I’ve gone through everything already and I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

“Ask your questions,” Primo says with a wave of his hand.

The evidence sprawls across the desk before me like a map of Primo's dark world. My fingers dance over photographs and documents, taking in every detail with ravenous curiosity. The sharp scent of ink mingles with the rich aroma of polished wood beneath my hands.

"Have you seen this?" I ask, holding up an incriminating photo of a rival gang member. Primo nods tersely, his jaw clenched tight. He looks like a statue, all chiseled angles and cold intensity. It's unnerving, but I refuse to let it distract me.

"Your brother Constantino's name appears here," I point out, tapping on a document that details a recent arms deal gone awry. "What's his role in all this?"

"Constantino is…ambitious," Primo says, his voice guarded. "He's always looking for ways to expand our operations."

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