The Mafia's Tesoro

CHAPTER 1

[Stefano Vincenzo]

As I stood there, my impatience grew with each passing moment. I found myself rhythmically tapping my feet on the hard surface beneath me.

The rain relentlessly pelted against the protective shield of my umbrella, creating a steady symphony of droplets that only amplified my restless state.

Come on, come on!

Where is he?

Glancing at my wristwatch, I noticed that it was approaching eight o'clock, and I realized that I was running late by a mere five minutes.

The cloudy sky is dense with gray clouds, indicating the imminent arrival of a thunderous storm.

Glancing in the direction of my bodyguard, I noticed how he gallantly extended an umbrella toward me, protecting me from the relentless downpour.

His soaked figure and dark hair clinging to his forehead were clear indicators of the extent to which he had endured the torrential rain on my behalf. I can tell that my father made sure to shield me from the storm, as he lacked in shielding me greatly in other areas.

In an attempt to control my growing anger, I brushed my black hair away from my face and carefully smoothed out the creases on my impeccably tailored black suit.

As I cast a gaze with my hooded eyes, I observed the multitude of individuals spread out in every direction, clutching umbrellas tightly within their grasp, infusing the nighttime streets with vibrant energy.

I clenched my teeth and demanded to know his whereabouts, and right on cue, my sleek black Ferrari pulled up. Exasperated, I scoffed and swiftly occupied the seat beside the driver.

I ran a hand over my forehead and shook my head. "Tardiness, brother."

As per usual, he flashed me a broad grin and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, don't be so uptight. I'm a whole twenty minutes ahead of last time," he chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement, causing me to shake my head in disbelief.

He's going to be the death of me.

"How the hell do I talk to the head of the Demidov family when we're half an hour late?" I asked. My chest became tight, so I loosened the tie around my neck.

He chuckled. "Oh, brother. You worry too much. Wouldn't you like to make an entrance?"

My brows furrowed. “I think you're forgetting that he's assessing me for his daughter, remember?"

He looked at me with obvious confusion in his brown eyes until reality dawned on him and his jaw dropped. "Oh s**t!"

With his foot on the accelerator, he raced through the urban landscape at a speed reminiscent of a thunderous bolt of lightning.

"That's better," I grumbled.

Do you think I want to get married? Hell no.

However, the question that arises within me is whether I should defy my father's desires or not. The answer, ultimately, is a resounding no.

I heard she's a tough one," my brother mused, and I nodded. "Our father made sure I learned everything about her, from her favorite food to her most used word."

Strange, isn't it? We live in a world where our wings are cut short before we even have a chance to open them.

Upon receiving a disapproving glance from my sibling, I observed as he nonchalantly positioned his hand on the backrest of my chair and emitted a chuckle.

"Soon, you're going to be the head of the Italian Mafia. Why aren't you happy?" he asked a question.

What makes you think that I'm unhappy?" I asked him back.

At the age of twenty-five, he stands five years below my own age. Naturally, he receives leniency from everyone around him, given that he is the youngest among us.

The expectation of shouldering the family's responsibilities never falls upon the youngest; it is always the eldest who must carry the weight of the burdens that come with being part of the family.

He shrugged. "You look pestered, Stefano."

I chuckled. "It's quite clear that you're the reason for my mood. Now quit pestering me and drive."

He shrugged, a smile still playing on his lips, before abruptly hitting the brakes. I lunged forward from my seat, and so did my brother.

"What the-?"

I lifted my head, the windshield wiper clearing out the rain, as I saw a figure in front of the car.

I looked closely and made out a female in a dress and an oversized jacket. She doesn't even have an umbrella.

I saw my bodyguard hop out of the car from behind us and rush to see what had happened.

Leaning back in my seat, I watched through the drops of rain as my bodyguard talked to the lady.

I looked down at my watch, annoyed.

"She's a damsel in distress, brother. See how helpless she looks."

He's not wrong. From what I can see, she looks like she's having an awful day, or she just lost her umbrella in the wind. Who cares anyway?

"Who cares? I just want to go now!"

My brother pointed at her, clearly telling me that we couldn't go anywhere because she was in the way.

I rolled my eyes, my thoughts becoming louder than the silence in the car right now.

"Okay, so brother," he started while shifting his body to face me. "There are three women in a room. One of them is rich and is a mafia member; the second is poor, but she's prettier than the first one. The third one, however, is more naturally beautiful than the first and the second, but she's a damsel in distress, poorer than the second."

I exhaled a long breath. "Where are you going with this?"

My brother nudged my shoulder. "Wait, now. Which girl would you choose?"

"When you say 'more naturally beautiful', do you mean the first and second had plastic surgery done?"

Alexander nodded.

I took a minute to think long and hard.

"The first one," I answered.

His jaw dropped open. "You can't be serious!" he suddenly shouted.

"What?"

My brother shook his head. "Why the first?"

That's easy. "Because the first one is financially stable, and she's a mafia. If we get married, then my father will be proud. Also, if she's a mafia member, we can put our businesses together, we can strive together. We could be the most powerful mafias on the planet."

I mean, it's not rocket science, but still, my brother looks at me as if he's seen a ghost.

"You do realize that you've based your decision on not what you want but on what's better for the family, right?"

I stopped breathing. Is it true?

No. Even if it had nothing to do with the family, I would still choose the first lady.

Shaking my head. I waved him away.

"Also, brother," I started. "How is the second woman not naturally beautiful when she has no money to go for surgery?"

Smiling at him, his face fell.

"Whatever," he mumbles.

My phone then rang, and I fished it out of my breast pocket before holding it to my ears. "What?" I snarled into the phone.

"Is that any way to talk to your father?"

I exhaled a long breath before tearing the phone away from my ears to look at the screen.

Shit.

"Sorry, dad. I didn't check before answering the call."

"Hmm," he stated plainly, clearly disappointed. "Where are you? The Demidov family is getting really violent."

I ran my fingers down my shaven face. "We'll be there. We just ran into some trouble, but we're dealing with it," I answered while peering out the window.

"Good. This is a big opportunity, Stefano. Don't mess it up," and just like that, he cut the call.

I threw my phone out the opened window, hearing splashing as it drowned in a puddle of water.

My brother turned his attention to me.

"Oh, we're so dead, aren't we?"

Clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth, I didn't answer.

Why is this lady taking so long?

She then banged on the car's bonnet, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Wow, she is feisty," my brother commented as he watched with amusement.

With widened eyes, I leaned forward, watching her every move. I can't make out her features, but I can see her body shifting from left to right.

I noticed the bodyguard making hand gestures before she did something I had never expected.

Her hand drifted through the air before landing hard on my bodyguard's face.