THE MAFIA DON'S PLAYTHING

Chapter 004: Into the lions den

I stepped off the plane into a humid feeling like I had just made the worst decision of my life.

If I thought the New York airport was chaotic, this one was worse with travelers shouting in rapid Italian.

Worst part was I couldn't speak fluent Italian and I still have no plan, just a name and an address that Joey had reluctantly given me.

When I called him, he was talking about a fortress in the hills guarded by men who would kill you for looking at them wrong.

I am not afraid. Okay, that is a lie. My hands were sweating, slipping on the backpack strap, and my heart’s doing a tap dance but Sofia is out there, and I am all she has.

I hailed a cab, which was a beat-up Fiat with a dented fender, the driver a old man with a cigarette dangling from his lip, his eyes looked and me in the rearview like he knows I’m trouble.

“Take me to Via delle Vigne,” I said the address rough on my tongue, it was a mile from the De Luca compound according to Joey.

The man looked like he wanted to tell me to change my mind about going there but then he second-guessed himself because he was not laid enough for this s**t.

He just nodded and then muttered something in Italian I didn't catch.

The cab dropped me off in a quiet neighborhood, the driver’s taillights fading into the dark, leaving me alone on a cobblestone street.

The De Luca compound was ahead, a sprawl of stone walls and iron gates perched on a hill.

The night light was making it look like a prison carved into the landscape. I crouched behind a dumpster watching guards patrol with rifles slung over their shoulders, their boots crunching on gravel, their voices low.

I now had a plan, and it was simple: sneak in, find Sofia, get out. Simple, but stupid—I know it, but I don’t care.

The rusty blade in my pocket that I.nad swiped from our kitchen drawer was all I had.

I waited, making sure to stay hidden as I counted the patrols—two men, then a gap of thirty seconds.

When the moment came, I ran across the street and reached the wall.

But It was too high to climb, its stone had moss, but there was a rusted a service gate, that had overgrown vines

But it was a weak spot I was willing to bet my life on.

I pull the hairpin that I had stolen from Sofia years ago from my pocket, and I picked the lock, a trick she had taught me.

The gates opened wide and I slipped inside the compound was a maze of manicured lawns, statues of grim-faced saints, and the villa itself was a glowing beast of white stone and arched windows.

I stuck to the shadows, avoiding the cameras I spot mounted on the walls, their red lights blinking like predator eyes.

I was halfway to the villa when a rough calloused hand clamps over my mouth and then before I knew what was happening a fist slammed into my gut.

I gasp, the air rushing out of me and then two guards drag me across the lawn, their grips bruising my arms.

“Stupid kid,” one growled in his thick accent.

They dragged me through a side door, down a marble hallway that smells of polish and cigar smoke.

And then they shove me into an office, all dark wood and leather, a man sat behind a desk, his presence like a storm cloud, dark and oppressive, his silhouette framed by the window overlooking the compound.

And I instantly knew who he was.

Don Alessandro De Luca is nothing like I expected. He was not some fat mobster with a cigar, puffing smoke like a dragon or firebender.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, maybe late thirties, with dark hair streaked with silver at the temples.

His eyes are cold, gray like a winter sky, piercing through me, and a scar cuts across his left cheek, faint but sharp, a mark from a blade that touched his skin and left its story.

But he still looked handsome.

His suit was tailored, black as midnight, the fabric hugging his frame, and he leaned back in his chair, watching me like I was a puzzle he had already solved.

My stomach twisted, bjt not just from fear, it was just that there was something about him that was dangerous and magnetic, making my skin prickle with heat.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice sounded hot, just like him.

The guards held my arms, their fingers digging into my biceps, keeping me upright.

“Luca Moretti,” I shoot out as my jaw is throbbing, blood trickling down my chin to stain my shirt.

“Where’s my sister?”His lips twitched, not quite a smile but he was looking amused.

“Bold for a boy who broke into my house.” He stood, moving like a panther circling me.

I could feel his eyes on me, sizing me up, tracing the lines of my bruised face, the sweat on my neck.

My cheeks burned when he stopped in front of me, close enough I could smell his cologne and overwhelming presence.

He grabbed my chin, his fingers firm but not rough, forcing me to look at him, his gray eyes locking with mine.

“Pretty face,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my jaw, the touch sending a shiver down my spine that I hate.

I jerked back, my heart racing, but the guards tightened their grip, holding me in place. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?”

“Because I’m here for Sofia,” I said, my voice steadier than I feel.

“You took her. Give her back.”His eyes narrowed and for a moment, I thought he would hit me since his hand was still hovering near my face. Instead, he gestured to the guards.

“Leave us.” They hesitate£, exchanging a glance, then obey, the door clicking shut leaving me alone with the mafia Don.

“You ate Marco Moretti’s son,” he said, like he was reading my soul, his voice. “Your father is a coward, and your sister's fiancé is a fool. Matteo Vitale killed my best man last week—a debt that demanded payment. Sofia’s the price.”

My fists clenched and my nails dug into my palms. “She’s not a bargaining chip.”

“Oh, but she is.” He stepped even closer, his breath warm against my ear “And so are you.” His words sank deep into me.

I could see how curious he was looking at me but he was toying with me, but there’s a hunger in his gaze, just predator’s interest that made my stomach do a full one eighty.

“What do you want?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounds.

My whole resolve was cracking under his scrutiny.

He leaned back and gave me his cruel captivating smirk

“You see little boy, what I want is very subjective.”

And when he said that, I swear my heart left my chest.