ILLICIT PASTRIES

Shadow Games

The scent of freshly baked pastries still clung to the cool afternoon air as Luca stepped out of his bakery, Pastoccini Di Piacere, a fond smile tugging at his lips. The morning rush had long since passed, but the steady hum of business never truly faded. He thrived in it, in the warmth of the ovens, in the satisfaction of seeing customers leave with something crafted by his hands.

It was 2 PM, later than usual, but he never minded losing himself in his work. He dusted off the last remnants of flour from his navy blue polyester shirt, adjusting his coat before stepping toward the sleek, purple luxury car waiting for him at the curb.

Across the street, Enzo and Dante watched. Unnoticed. Always unseen.

“Guarda il nostro ragazzo,” Dante murmured, eyes dark with something fond, something possessive.

“Still completely oblivious,” Enzo added, voice tinged with amusement as Luca climbed into the car.

Antonio, his ever-loyal driver, was already in place, pulling the car smoothly into the afternoon traffic.

Enzo and Dante followed.

Luca’s next stop was Inchiostri Euforici, his tattoo parlor nestled between two unassuming storefronts. The elegant lettering of the sign gleamed in the fading daylight, standing stark against the dark windows. Business was steady. Customers filtered in and out, some looking nervous as they entered, but all leaving with beaming smiles and fresh ink.

Enzo and Dante positioned themselves near a café across the street, their caffè long forgotten as they watched.

“You ever wonder what it’s like?” Dante mused, watching a woman step out of the shop, pausing to admire the delicate floral design now permanently etched on her forearm.

Enzo exhaled sharply through his nose. “What? Getting a tattoo?”

“No.” Dante’s eyes lingered on the shop’s entrance. “Owning a place like that. Doing something with your hands that makes people happy.”

Enzo smirked. “Sounds like you wanna pick up a tattoo gun.”

Dante let out a low chuckle. “Tsk. Not a chance. Just saying… il nostro Luca is good at what he does. He leaves his mark in a way that makes people want more.”

The hours stretched on. Luca stepped outside only once, standing in the doorway, laughing at something one of his artists said. The sound carried, warm and genuine, and the sight of it made Dante hum in appreciation.

“Guarda come sorride,” Enzo murmured, watching the way Luca’s face softened, his entire being at ease in the space he had built for himself.

“Bellissimo,” Dante agreed.

They stayed. They watched. They waited.

As the hours passed, the city changed. The bustling energy of the day faded into something slower, something heavier. And just before eight, Luca finally left.

The diner was small, tucked away in a quieter part of town. A place for familiar faces and whispered conversations.

The moment Luca stepped inside, he was greeted with warmth.

The woman waiting for him was beautiful and petite but full of effortless charm. Dark curls framed her delicate face, and the way she smiled at him made something unpleasant twist in Enzo’s gut.

Dante shifted beside him. “Who’s she?”

Enzo didn’t answer. Instead, they both watched as Antonio stepped out of the car, retrieved a box of cookies from the backseat, and carried it inside.

Luca and the woman sat across from each other, engaged in quiet conversation. She leaned in when she spoke, her fingers brushing against his wrist for a fraction too long. And Luca… he didn’t pull away.

Dante clicked his tongue. “Tsk. She’s getting a little too comfortable, don’t you think?”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t know any better.”

“They never do,” Dante murmured, eyes narrowing as the woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her head in a way that felt practiced.

The food came, and they watched. The conversation deepened, and they watched.

And then, the worst part.

When they stepped outside, Antonio following a few paces behind with neatly packed takeaways in his arms, the woman lingered. Standing too close. Smiling too sweetly.

And then…

She kissed him.

It was nothing. Just a light press of her lips against his, fleeting, insignificant.

But it still made Dante mutter a low, “Stronza,” under his breath.

Luca said something to her, shaking his head, his smile still present but softer now, something secret in his expression. And then she turned and disappeared back into the diner, completely unaware of the two sets of eyes burning into her back.

Luca hesitated before getting into the car, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings, just for a second. A flicker of awareness.

But it passed.

He slid into the backseat, and Antonio pulled them smoothly out of the parking lot.

Dante exhaled, watching the taillights fade into the distance. “Think he saw us?”

Enzo shook his head, but his grip was tight. “No. But he felt something.”

A pause.

Then Dante let out a slow, dangerous hum. “Povero ragazzo nostro… still doesn’t know he’s ours.”

Enzo smirked, dark and sure.

“Not yet.”