#3
747 Words
DANTE
"Sir, the shipment of the oils was successful."
I didn't look up from my laptop. My fingers continued their steady tapping across the keyboard as I processed the data on the screen. The logistics had been tightly managed, and the confirmation was merely a formality. I gave a single nod to let the man know he had been heard.
"And the girl has arrived at the estate," he added, his voice dropping a fraction.
My fingers went entirely still over the keys. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second before tilting my head up to look at him.
"Has she settled in?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of any emotion.
The man nodded quickly, adjusting his stance. "The colleague who received her said she’s already upstairs in her room. Everything went smoothly."
"Alright," I said, leaning back just an inch. "Get back to work."
He offered a brief bow and exited the room, the click of his shoes echoing away from my office. I stared at the open laptop for a few more seconds. I forced myself to finish the last line of the data entry, then closed the laptop.
Before the silence could settle, the ring tone of my phone cut through the room. The screen lit up with an all too familiar name. I snatched the device off the desk, bringing it to my ear without hesitation.
"Why the hell are you calling me?" I demanded, the words slicing through the line coldly.
That low irritating voice I hate to hear echoed from the speaker, filled with unearned arrogance. "I heard you brought Mr. Romano's daughter back to your estate, Dante."
My teeth clamped together so hard a muscle twitched in my jaw. I growl back to the phone. “What business is that of yours?"
"The girl's parents didn’t just die of natural causes, and you know it," Nico sneered, his voice dripping with an implicit threat. "Since she’s back in the picture, we want to interfere in whatever it is you're planning for her."
My fingers crushed against the casing of the phone. The audacity of his interference burned through my veins.
"Whatever I am doing or not doing is none of your business, Nico," I breathed out, My fist clenched. "Mind your own damn business before I send my men for your head."
A mocking chuckle grated against my eardrum. "I’ll back off for now, don," Nico said, the amusement clear in his voice. "But when the time comes, I’ll be back. And this time, I’m coming to strike."
The line went dead before I could reply.
"Pezzo di merda, (piece of s**t)" I hissed into the empty room, slamming the phone face down onto the desk.
"Figlio di puttana. (Son of a prost!tute)”
The Italian curses burned my throat, I stood up violently, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. I reached up, violently tugging at the knot of my tie to straighten it.
The office door opened quietly, and one of my footmen stepped inside. Without needing an instruction, he stepped up to the desk, grabbed my briefcase, and immediately turned to head out to secure the vehicle.
I reached into my breast pocket, pulling out my dark sunglasses and sliding them into place, masking the cold fury that still lingered in my eyes. I walked out after him.
As I crossed the threshold toward the exit, another one of my security detail stepped into my path, holding a tablet in his hand. "Sir, you got a message from the head of the casino in Mexico."
"I'll check that later," I cut him off, my pace never slowing as I brushed past him. "I'm busy."
We reached the private courtyard where the black Mercedes was idling. The driver was already standing by the rear door, pulling it open the moment my shoes hit the asphalt. I slid into the leather interior, the door shutting behind me and instantly.
The driver settled into the front seat, looking at me through the rearview mirror as he shifted the car into drive.
"Sir, are we heading straight home to the estate, or to your warehouse?" he asked.
I stared out the tinted window, the image of a ten year old girl’s ghost flashing through my mind, replaced instantly by the reality of the threat Nico had just made.
The estate could wait.
"No," I told him, my voice flat and unyielding. "We’re heading to the warehouse first."
- Writer
