The kingpin's obsession: Lena

17

We left the hotel at approximately 6:30 pm and it took almost 45 minutes or more for us to reach the destination.

The car rolled in through the black gates of a villa. It was like a living palace. Manicured gardens, a fountain, some street lamps to light up the graveled path. I noted the few cars that were already parked in the designated areas, and when we came to a slow stop at the base of a mansion’s grand steps, there was some already waiting to take it.

Vincenzo held out his hand for me and I slipped mine into his as he helped me out, the cool night air brushing over my bare shoulders.

The place was…well, grand. That was honestly the only word I could think of to describe it. And seeing it up close like this was in a way oppressive. I knew vincenzo had money and didn’t have an issue breaking bank, but this Milano person was…extra. The Villa sat like a dark jewel on the hillside, sprawling wings of cream-colored stone, balconies lined with wrought-iron railings, and arched windows glowing golden with light.

As we walked towards the entrance, I caught sight of the security—heavily armed men patrolling the grounds. Some stood at the corners of the garden walls, others half-hidden in the trees, just out of sight but close enough to sprint into action. They were dressed in black, faces sharp, guns tucked against their sides.

A cold shiver traveled down my back as I tugged on Vincenzo’s sleeve, my heels clicking against the marble as we ascended the marble staircase. “Is this how all your events usually are?” I whispered, keeping my voice low. “Like…armed men lurking in the shadows like rangers?”

Vincenzo glanced at me, lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Security is everything, Lena. You never know when an enemy might strike. Tonight could be a celebration…” his eyes scanned the shadows once before giving me his attention again, “…or it could be an ambush. Better to be ready for both.”

“Well, that wasn’t not every reassuring.” I mutter softly with a pout earning a chcukle from my husband.

“You might not have realized it, but the security at our wedding was much tighter than this.” he revealed as we finally reached the top of the stairs.

“It was?”

“Yup. But, don’t worry yourself, Princess, you’ve got me with you, I’m all the security you need.” he said smugly.

“Oh yeah? Then who’s your security?” I asked, my tone challenging but with an undertone of teasing.

“I’m my own security darling.” he gave me a wink as he patted his side where his gun sat in its holster under his jacket.

Before us was that grand double doors that were twice my height which had been left wide open for the guests. Deciding to put the conversation to rest, I allowed my eyes wander a bit to the other guests who were dressed to show off.

“Is it just me, or am I a tad bit under-dressed for this event?” I couldn’t help but feel this way after notcing a woman dressed in a really sparkly silver dress that had high shoulder pads and a neckline that literally stretched all the way down to her navel. And don’t even get me going on that makeup. I brought my hand up to hide the laugh when she and her partner, a short and puffy man walked to greet another set of couples who were also dressed like flamingos.

“You look perfect, Lena.” Vincenzo's arm circled round my waist protectively then he tugged me closer to his body as if a hawk would swoop down and nab me any second from now. Since the moment we arrived, his head has been sweeping left, then right as if he were looking for where the next threat would come from.

Inside, the Villa was even more opulent than the outside. A flood of golden light spilled down from an enormous crystal chandelier suspended in the high, painted ceiling. Marble floors polished so clean I could practically see my reflection in them. Music—soft, classical—threaded with the low hum of conversation that echoed through the space.

But the thing that really caught my attention was the massive white banner strung across the far wall in bold, gold lettering:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

“Wait…” I nudged Vincenzo, leaning toward him with wide eyes. “This isn’t some kind of secret party for me, right?”

I know it was probably dumb to think that, but a little part of me really wanted him to say yes.

But my dear husband looked more thrown off than I was. And with the way his brows creased, I could tell he was a bit pissed. The invitation clearly stated it was a dinner party, not whatever this was.

“This…” he muttered, jaw clenching as his gaze swept the room. Something I’ve noticed him do multiple times as if it were a naturally inbuilt thing for him to do anytime we walk into a room “…wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Damn, if I’d known I would have come with a present for the celebrant.” I joked. Finding myself particularly quite funny tonight.

Vincenzo's glare cut sideways at me. “Very funny, Callista, but don’t let your guard down. Birthday or not, I need you to stay within my sight at all times.”

“And what if I wanted to use the bathroom?” I had to ask the most obvious of questions. But it’s true, what if I was really pressed and needed to go but he wasn’t there would I need to wait for him?

“I’ll be there.” he shot back. If I was about to be a bratty little girl the serious look on his face right now shut her up. I bit my lip, sobered by his tone. Vincenzo might’ve worn that silk suit and smug grin, but I knew every muscle in his body was coiled tightly now, and any wrong move and my husband would probably spare no second to put a bullet in someone’s head if they seemed like a threat.

I suddenly remembered Nancy. Even after she had Vincenzo had known and dated for more than a year, he didn’t waste a second in putting a gun in her head for hurting me.

“Okay. I understand.” I said softly. There was no point arguing with him now anyway.

He beckoned on a server girl with a tray of champagne. He picked up two slender glasses filled with golden frizzeling wine. One for him and the other he handed to me. “Here, sip on this.”

“Thanks.”

Vincenzo knocked back the glass of wine in one go like it was a glass of shot. At least he didn’t look so tensed. Birthday party or not, people noticed when we arrived. Heads turned as we stepped inside, and within seconds we were being ushered toward familiar faces.

Well, familiar for him.

I recognized a few from our wedding. And the rest, not so much.

There wasn’t much I could do any way, so I let him drag me across the crowd of guests to a cluster of men in tailored suits, their heavy accents revealing they were Russians? I don’t know. They just sounded really upset? Or maybe not.