Rebirth: Becoming the Mafia Princess I Never Wanted to Be

Chapter 2 The Devil's Testing Ground

The gun stayed against my head. I watched the man behind me through the rearview mirror. Vincenzo Moretti sat perfectly still, close enough that his breath moved the hair beside my ear.

"It's a contract," I said. "Your father and mine agreed to a business merger sealed by marriage. You should have read the memo."

He gave a short laugh. "Get out of the car."

The gun moved away. I opened the heavy door before he could repeat himself and stepped into the cold. His stone mansion filled the hill ahead of us, every window dark.

Vincenzo came around the car and nodded toward the entrance. Two black panthers rose from the porch before I reached the first step.

They took either side of the doorway. Their paws were silent on the stone, and one of them growled when I moved closer.

I stopped long enough to check the distance between them. Vincenzo was watching for the scream, the retreat, or the plea. I gave him none of them.

"This test is a waste of time," I said. "If you wanted me dead, you had a gun. If you need me alive, the cats are decoration. Pick one."

His mouth twitched. "You have a sharp tongue."

"A sharp mind is more useful. Your Westside casinos are losing money, and your reports are hiding it."

That got his attention.

I walked between the panthers while they tracked me with bright green eyes. "Someone built shell companies that look like food and beverage suppliers."

One panther paced behind me. I kept moving.

"They take less than two percent from each transaction, small enough to pass as operational variance. Over three years, that adds up to nearly thirty million dollars."

At the top of the steps, I turned back to him. "Give me three days, access to your servers, and your accounting staff. I'll give you the name."

I glanced back at the animal. "If I fail, feed me to them. I won't scream."

Vincenzo studied me for several seconds. "Fine. Three days."

His housekeeper took me to a guest suite. My luggage would arrive in the morning, she said, and I was forbidden to leave the room. The lock engaged behind her.

I had planned for that on the drive over. Using a burner phone, I had transferred untraceable crypto to a discreet contact.

A young maid who hated her job agreed to leave two things in the room: a spool of high-tensile wire and a keycard that could override my lock.

I fixed the nearly invisible wire across the doorway at ankle height, then settled into a velvet armchair with the lights off.

Hours later, the electronic lock clicked.

The door opened without a sound. A man slipped inside with a long dagger held beside his thigh. Two careful steps brought him into the room.

His third caught the wire.

He hit the floor. The maid slammed the door from the hall, and the lock sealed him in with me.

He pushed himself up and looked toward the chair. The dagger was still in his hand, but now I knew exactly where he was.