Beneath the Don’s shadow

Chapter 1: Fateful Encounter The rain drummed softly against the large windows of the small café on the corner of a busy city street. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and cozy, a sharp contrast to the gray and cold reality outside. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the aroma of baked goods, and soft jazz played low from the speakers. Elena hurried between the tables with a tired but friendly smile. She had been working here for almost two years, and although the days were often long, she found a sense of security in the routine. As a child without a family, she had always longed for stability, and though this café was not a home, it was the closest she had ever come to one. The doorbell chimed as a group of men entered. Their presence made the room fall silent for a brief moment. Dressed in expensive suits, with sharp eyes and an aura of power, they were a reminder of the city’s underworld. But it was the man leading them who caught Elena’s attention. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a charcoal-black suit that fit perfectly over his strong frame. His dark hair was sleek, and his green eyes held an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. There was something raw and untamed about him, yet he exuded a calm, almost hypnotic control. She swallowed and took a deep breath. Professionalism—that was the most important thing. She adjusted her apron and walked toward the table where they had seated themselves. “Hi, welcome to Bella Caffè. What can I get you?” Her voice was steady, but she could feel her hands trembling slightly as she took out her notepad. The dark-haired man lifted his gaze to her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “An espresso,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “And your name?” Elena blinked. “My name?” she repeated, caught off guard. “Yes,” he said, leaning back in his chair as if he already knew her answer would interest him. “I like to know who is serving me.” She wetted her lips and lifted her chin slightly. “Elena,” she finally replied. “I’ll be right back with your order.” He nodded slowly, his eyes following her as she turned and walked toward the counter. She could feel his gaze burning into her back, and an inexplicable warmth spread in her stomach. Behind the counter, the other girls she worked with bit their lips and whispered to each other. “Do you know who that is?” one of them, a blonde with wide eyes, asked. Elena shook her head. “Should I?” “Domenico De Luca,” the blonde said in a hushed voice, as if she feared he might hear her. “He’s one of the most powerful men in the city. Mafia.” Elena stared at her. “You’re joking.” “No,” the blonde replied. “I’d stay far away if I were you.” Elena glanced over her shoulder at the man at the table. Domenico De Luca. The name suited him. It had a kind of brutal elegance. Maybe she should be afraid, but instead, she felt intrigued. What was a man like him doing here? When she returned to their table with the coffee, Domenico let his gaze sweep over her again. “Tell me, Elena,” he said slowly. “Are you always this calm around strangers?” She frowned slightly. “I’m used to all kinds of customers.” “Hmm.” He smiled faintly. “I like that.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. There was something about the way he looked at her—like he already owned a part of her without her permission. She took a careful step back, but before she could disappear completely, he caught her wrist. Not hard, but firm enough for her to feel the warmth of his grip. “I’ll be back,” he said softly, but with an unsettling certainty in his voice. “Next time, I hope you’ll remember my coffee order without me having to say it.” He released her just as gently as he had grabbed her, and before she knew it, he had risen to his feet. His men followed him out of the café, and the door slammed shut behind them. Elena stood there, her pulse hammering in her throat. She should be scared. She should take her coworkers’ warnings seriously. But all she could think about was how her heart had raced more than ever before. ⸻ The next evening, Bella Caffè was quieter than usual. The rain had returned, pattering against the windows as the soft hum of conversation filled the space. Elena moved with ease between the tables, her mind still lingering on the events of the previous day. Domenico De Luca. His name alone sent a shiver down her spine. She had spent the entire night convincing herself that their encounter was nothing—just another customer, just another fleeting moment in her otherwise predictable life. And yet, the way he had looked at her, the certainty in his voice when he said he would return, made it feel like something more. As if summoned by her thoughts, the doorbell chimed. A familiar presence filled the room before she even turned around. He was back. Domenico stepped inside, his suit immaculate, his presence just as commanding as the first time. This time, he was alone. Elena swallowed hard and forced herself to remain composed as he approached the counter. He leaned slightly forward, resting his forearm on the wooden surface as he met her gaze with an amused glint in his eyes. “I believe you know my order,” he said smoothly. She hesitated for only a second before nodding. “An espresso.” A small smile played at his lips. “Good. You learn fast.” As she prepared his coffee, she could feel his gaze on her, studying her every movement. It made her skin tingle, though she refused to let it show. When she placed the cup in front of him, he didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if assessing her. “You don’t seem afraid of me, Elena.” She met his gaze with a steady resolve. “Should I be?” His smile deepened, though there was something unreadable in his expression. “Most people are.” She exhaled softly. “I don’t know you.” “Not yet.” Her breath hitched at the implication in his words, but before she could respond, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow sip. The café was quiet around them, the air charged with something unspoken. Elena couldn’t help but wonder what he wanted from her. Was it just amusement? Or was there something deeper? Before she could dwell on it further, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card. He slid it across the counter toward her. “If you ever need anything,” he said, his voice lower now, almost intimate, “call me.” Elena hesitated before glancing down at the card. No business name. Just a number. When she looked back up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Think about it,” he murmured before standing. “I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, the small card burning in her palm. ——————