CONTRACT WITH THE DON

THE DEVIL'S TABLE

​THE DEVIL'S TABLE

​The midday Roman sun did not warm; it only dazzled, casting sharp shadows over the travertine marble of the Hall of Concord. The secret headquarters of The Commission, hidden behind the facade of a Renaissance palace on the outskirts of Rome, smelled of ancient wood, beeswax, and the contained fear of men who believed themselves to be the masters of the world.

​I adjusted the cuffs of my tailored white jacket. The contrast with the black leather of the previous night was deliberate: today I was not a fugitive in the shadows; today I was the blinding light coming to unearth their secrets. Around my neck, the black diamond felt as heavy as an anchor.

​Aaron walked by my side. He didn’t touch me, but his presence was an electric current that made the hairs on my arms stand up. His black suit was impeccable, his face a mask of cold indifference that only I knew could crack so quickly under the pressure of lust and fury.

​"They’re ready to bite, Sofia," Aaron murmured, barely moving his lips as we advanced down the vaulted corridor. "The moment they see you sit down, they’ll look for the weakest link."

​"Let them look," I replied, keeping my eyes straight ahead. "They’re going to break their teeth against steel."

​Two armed guards opened the heavy double oak doors. The silence in the room became deathly.

​Around the elliptical mahogany table, the bosses of the five Italian mafia families froze. In the center of the table, one seat remained empty: the Morettis'. Dante's absence was a bloody elephant in the room.

​"Don Aaron," greeted Don Lucchese, the oldest member, his voice slow and dragging. "We didn't know today's meeting included... decoration."

​A stifled laugh rippled through some of the capos. I felt the subtle shift in Aaron's posture, the murderous instinct pushing him to draw his weapon and clear the table.

​I placed a hand on his forearm. A light touch. A silent command: “Leave them, this is mine.”

​"The decoration, Don Lucchese," I said, my voice echoing with a sharpness that froze their smiles, "is the only reason your bank transfers to accounts in the Bahamas were not frozen by the Vatican Bank this morning."

​I walked with a firm step toward the end of the table, right across from Lucchese, and without waiting for anyone to offer me a seat, I took the chair that belonged to the absent Dante Moretti and sat down.

​Aaron stood behind me, hands folded behind his back. The imagery was clear: he commanded the army, but I dictated the strategy.

​"What are you talking about, little girl?" growled Maroni, the boss of the northern faction. "That is the Morettis' place. Where is Dante?"

​"Dante Moretti suffered a... business accident," Aaron intervened, his slow, dangerous voice filling the space. "His family has proven incapable of maintaining the syndicate's security. He tried to steal a shared asset. He tried to steal from me."

​"And what do you have to do with this, Sofia? You’re the daughter of a disgraced accountant," Lucchese spat.

​I rested my elbows on the mahogany table, intertwining my fingers. The black diamond of my ring clinked against the wood.

​"My father wasn't just an accountant. He was the man who camouflaged the financial sins of every single one of you. And I am the woman who holds the alphanumeric key to the diocese of Rome. A key that changes every twenty-four hours and that only I can generate."

​I paused, scanning their faces with a cold gaze.

​"If I die, or if I decide to block the system, the identities of your informants in Europol will reach government servers in five minutes. If I speak, The Commission ceases to exist before the sun sets. So I am not 'decoration,' gentlemen. I am the new administrator of your survival."

​A murmur of outrage and panic erupted in the room. The men looked at each other, searching for weakness, searching for weapons. But they knew that the D'Luca snipers surrounded the building.

​"This is outrageous!" Maroni slammed the table. "Aaron, control your woman! You can't allow a D'Luca by marriage to dictate the rules."

​Aaron leaned forward slowly, resting his large hands on the back of my chair. His warmth enveloped me, but his eyes were fixed on Maroni.

​"My wife speaks for both of us, Maroni. And I suggest you watch your tone. The last person who yelled at her is currently losing his fingers in my basement."

​The silence returned, denser than before. We had won the first round, but the real danger was only beginning.

​Lucchese narrowed his eyes, looking at me with a mix of respect and hatred.

"Fine. Suppose we accept this new... arrangement. What is it that you want, Sofia D’Luca?"

​"First," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing up my throat, "absolute immunity for my father. He will be moved to a neutral property under my supervision. Second, fifty percent of the dividends from the eastern routes that previously belonged to the Morettis will be transferred to my name. Not to the D'Lucas… to me."

​Aaron didn’t move, but I felt his fingers tighten on the back of my chair. I was stripping power from his own family right to his face, and he was allowing it.

​The destructive fascination he felt for me was his greatest vulnerability, and I intended to exploit it to the very end.

​"And in exchange?" Lucchese asked.

​"In exchange, the accounts will stay clean. You will stay rich. And you will stay alive."

​The capos exchanged glances. They had no choice. The financial power of the Vatican was the fuel of their empire, and I held the key to the gas station. One by one, they nodded—a silent capitulation that tasted of glory and gunpowder.

​"The session is adjourned," I declared, rising from the chair with the elegance of a queen who had just claimed a throne of thorns.

​The ride back in the armored car was a volcano about to erupt. As soon as the doors closed and the car surged down the highway, Aaron grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him, forcing me to straddle his lap.

​His face was millimeters from mine, his dark eyes bloodshot with a mix of fury and a desire so primitive it took my breath away.

​"Fifty percent of the Moretti routes, Sofia," his right hand moved up my thigh, gripping the fabric of my white pants with a force that would leave marks. "You disarmed me in front of The Commission. You took power away from me."

​"I warned you I wouldn't sit by your side like a trophy, Aaron," I replied, holding his gaze, though my heart pounded hard against my ribs. "You wanted a weapon. Now deal with the recoil."

​Aaron let out a husky laugh, a dangerous sound that vibrated in his chest. His hand slid up to my neck, squeezing gently just above the black diamond, forcing me to arch my back.

​"It turns me on as much as it infuriates me that you are so f*****g smart," he whispered, his hot breath hitting my lips. "But don't forget the rules of this hell, little viper. Those families are going to kill you the moment they get a chance. You’ve painted a target on your chest."

​"Then make sure your men guard my back well, my Don," I teased, brushing my lips against his without actually kissing him. "Because if I fall, you fall with me."

​"Oh no. I won't fall alone, queen of chaos," he murmured, his eyes flashing with a dark madness. "If we go down, we’re dragging all of Italy into the fire with us."

​Before I could answer, his lips claimed mine with a hungry violence. There was no tenderness in that kiss; it was a collision of power, a reminder that even though we ruled together, we were still two monsters trapped in the same golden cage.

​His hands tore the delicate fabric of my white jacket, searching for my skin, searching for the control I had taken from him in the boardroom.

​As the car pulled into the mansion grounds, I understood that the chessboard was no longer on fire. The board was ours.

​But playing with the devil meant that, sooner or later, House D’Luca would try to win. And I had to be ready for when Aaron decided he wanted his crown back.