Amo

The crowd froze. The golden light of the chandeliers reflected in the glasses, but no one drank. No one dared to break the silence that hung over the hall, saturated with the smell of expensive whiskey and gunpowder. You slowly turned to Laura. Her gaze was full of fury, but fear splashed in the depths of her eyes.

• I am the princess of the Sicilian mafia, the only daughter of Romeo Vittielo. And you are the daughter of the Consigliere, whose life depends on my father. And later, on my brother, who will always be on my side. Keep that in mind. you said

You passed by, barely brushing her shoulder, but stopped at the door. Laura froze, not daring to answer.

• Oh, and yes, Laura... - you turned around slowly, letting the words soak into her trembling nerves. - I don't need my father or my brother to put you under the ground. But you see, I don't want to waste my precious time on a common whore.

Laura clenched her fists, but you had already turned away. She wasn’t the only one behind you. The entire room—representatives of the American, Spanish, and Italian mafia—were watching us, taking in every detail. But one man stood out above all else. Amo Ixoni—the Don of the Italian mafia. Two meters tall, pumped up, cruel. His dark eyes followed me closely, cold, calculating. You felt that gaze even after you disappeared behind the door.

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