Mafia Tech Bro

Chapter nine

CHRISTOF

I was halfway through the speech, right at the part the founders insisted was “inspirational”, when a flicker of movement at the back of the conservatory caught my eye. I saw his bald head first. I could recognize that smooth, shiny head anywhere.

I didn’t lose my rhythm. I never do. In my thirty years of existence, I’ve mastered a lot of things. Physical composure was on the top of that list.

But my focus shifted for one precise second.

Roman Thorn.

Oh, for f***s’ sake.

Black suit, no tie, expression unreadable. What could he possibly be doing here. Everyone here operated in worlds he’d never voluntarily touch. Tech founders in pastel suits. VCs with manicured beards. Journalists who photographed salads for a living. He looked like the universe had rendered him in the wrong setting.

Roman didn’t attend public events. He barely attended private ones unless there was mass profit, leverage, or chaos on the menu. He doesn’t look like it, but he liked backrooms, cigar smoke, and conversations that ended with either a handshake or someone getting punched. Not glass ceilings, microgreens, and polite applause.

His presence here meant absolutely nothing, or…absolutely everything.

He caught my eye.

Not a smile, not a scowl. Just the faintest raise of his brow. Amusement, curiosity, a silent “Miss me?”

I continued. “Innovation,” I said, “isn’t a luxury. It’s an obligation.”

The audience nodded like I’d just offered them scripture. Meanwhile, Roman leaned against a marble column, utterly unimpressed, watching me the way a gambler watches the table. Calculating, entertained, deciding whether he felt like joining the game.

Of all people, he was the last one I expected. He surfaced only when he wanted something, or when someone else wanted something from him and he found it amusing to appear unavailable for months.

I never trusted him, he never trusted me. That was our balance, perfect equilibrium. But his being here…It was an opportunity.

I let the smallest grin pull at the corner of my mouth, hidden from the crowd, obvious enough for Roman to catch. Well, if you’re here, old friend, perhaps the timing isn’t as inconvenient as it looks.

The applause swelled, I stepped back from the podium, the speech ended. But my mind was already shifting to business, the real kind. Because if Roman Thorn was haunting a tech luncheon…then something interesting was about to unfold.

Regardless of how occupied I was at any gathering, when Pepa was present, I always kept an eye out for her, I always knew where and when she moved. It wasn’t paranoia, I was just really protective of her. Hence why I could easily track her in the crowd right after my speech.

Pepa must have already clocked Roman. She had that sharp alertness her father raised her on. Immediately I stood beside her, she tapped my wrist lightly, a silent you seeing this?

Yeah. I was.

Roman approached us with that relaxed assurance he often displayed when he wanted others to perceive him as non-threatening. He has never been harmless. But he was occasionally entertaining. We had done business together several times. Sometimes we even shared a joke or two. Neither of us trusted the other past a half-inch margin.

It worked beautifully.

He reached us and grinned. “Christof Gustavo, public speaker. Didn’t know you did daylight appearances.”

I smirked. “Didn’t know you did anything that didn’t involve bribery or bloodshed.”

We clasped hands. Friendly grip, underlying calculation.

Pepa gave him a kiss on both cheeks, European-style, polite but cool. “Roman,” she said with that sugary lilt that implied “you’re tolerated, but don’t touch anything expensive.”

He winked. “Always a pleasure.”

Behind us, Tanisha stumbled past a fern like it had tried to attack her. She looked like a chaotic shadow trailing after us. Absolutely invisible unless something around her crashed.

Which was often.

Roman followed my line of sight briefly, then dismissed her entirely. Not even a flicker of interest. She wasn’t on his map, which didn’t surprise me at all. Tanisha wasn’t a particularly attractive woman. To me at least.

“So.” I folded my arms. “What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as a fan of ‘innovation ecosystems.’”

He raised a brow. “Maybe I’m branching out. Diversifying my interests.”

Code for: I’m looking for something, or I’m about to make this event more interesting than it planned to be.

I was pretty much positive that Huncho was close enough now, monitoring this interaction, monitoring every moment. Waiting for a reason to burst through the shadows.

“Right,” I said. “And I’m starting a vegan cooking channel.”

He laughed. Genuine, sharp, and amused. “Relax, Gustavo. I’m just observing. Thought I’d see what the great minds of the future are up to.”

Translation: I’m hunting opportunity.

Or chaos.

With Roman, they were the same thing.

Pepa shifted closer to my side, whispering just for me, “If he asks to ‘see the kitchen,’ we leave.”

I almost choked. “Noted.”

Roman lifted a champagne flute, sniffed it like he expected it to be poison, then shrugged and took a sip. “That was a great speech by the way. Changed my life.”

I flashed him a smug smile. “Why, thank you.”

This was just Roman being Roman. Untrustworthy, useful, annoying, never boring.