The Mafia Protocol

A Dangerous Alliance

The door to her room clicked shut behind her with a soft but final sound. Camilla stood motionless for a moment, her heart still racing from the conversation with Riccardo. The weight of his words lingered in the air like smoke—thick and suffocating.

The room was lavish, as expected, with a king-sized bed draped in dark velvet, an intricately carved wooden wardrobe, and an oversized desk with a leather chair. But it felt cold, unwelcoming. It was as though everything in the room, even the heavy curtains blocking out the natural light, was designed to isolate her. To make her feel as though she belonged nowhere.

She walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains to look out at the sprawling mansion grounds. The view was breathtaking, the gardens stretching out beneath the starlit sky. But the beauty of it was lost on her. All she could think of was the cold, calculated man who had orchestrated all of this. The man who believed he had the right to decide her future.

Camilla gritted her teeth, her hands curling into fists. She wasn’t going to let him win. She wasn’t going to be his pawn, no matter what her father had promised. She had to find a way out of this mess, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing with plans and ideas. But all of them led to the same conclusion: she was trapped.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She tensed, instinctively reaching for the knife she had stashed under the pillow—an old habit from her time in the streets.

“Come in,” she called, her voice steady.

The door creaked open, and Luca stepped inside, his expression neutral. As always, he looked like a man who had seen it all and felt nothing.

“I brought you some food,” he said, holding a tray with a covered dish in his hands. His tone was polite but distant.

Camilla eyed the tray warily. She didn’t trust anyone here, least of all Luca. He was Riccardo’s right-hand man, a constant reminder that she was never truly alone in this place. Every step she took, every breath she took, was being watched.

She nodded toward the small table in the corner of the room. “Put it there.”

Luca set the tray down on the table and stepped back. “Riccardo wants to see you tomorrow morning,” he said flatly. “Don’t be late.”

“Tell him I’m not interested,” Camilla shot back, her tone sharp. “Tell him I’m not his to command.”

Luca didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. His gaze was cool, calculating, like he was waiting for her to crumble. But Camilla refused to give him the satisfaction.

“Riccardo doesn’t give orders to be ignored,” he said quietly. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”

The implication in his words wasn’t lost on her. She clenched her jaw, swallowing the urge to snap at him. She had to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t afford to make enemies here—not yet.

“Is that all?” she asked, her voice strained but controlled.

“For now,” Luca replied, turning on his heel to leave. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be… important.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Camilla alone again. She exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t sure what Riccardo had planned for tomorrow, but she wasn’t about to sit by and let him dictate her every move.

She had to find a way out.

The next morning, Camilla was awoken early by the soft sound of a bell ringing through the house. It was a sound that filled the space with an eerie finality. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew it didn’t matter. Riccardo didn’t play by the rules of time.

She stood up, stretched her aching limbs, and made her way to the small bathroom attached to the room. The reflection in the mirror was still unfamiliar, as if she were staring at someone else. A prisoner of her own making.

The only thing she could rely on was herself. And her instincts.

After a quick shower, she dressed in a simple black dress that had been laid out for her. It was elegant but understated, and it felt like a uniform for a life she didn’t want. She left the room and made her way down the long hallway, her footsteps echoing off the marble floors.

When she reached the main floor, she found herself standing in front of a large set of double doors. These were the doors that led to Riccardo’s private study—the place where everything happened, where deals were made, where lives were shaped.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the doors open.

Riccardo was standing by the window, his back to her, looking out over the grounds as if he were surveying his kingdom. He didn’t turn around when she entered, didn’t acknowledge her presence at first. The silence between them was thick, suffocating.

“You wanted to see me?” Camilla’s voice was steady, though inside she was a storm of uncertainty and defiance.

Riccardo turned slowly, his piercing eyes meeting hers. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer any kind of greeting. He simply studied her, as if she were a puzzle he had yet to solve.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said finally, his voice low, deliberate.

Camilla felt a shiver run down her spine. She didn’t trust him, didn’t trust anything he said. But she knew she had to play along—at least for now.

“Have you?” she replied coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. “How flattering.”

Riccardo’s lips twitched, the hint of a smile flickering on his face. “You’ve been a challenge from the moment I laid eyes on you. But that’s what makes you interesting. I don’t like easy.”

“I’m not here to entertain you,” Camilla snapped, unable to suppress the bitterness in her voice. “I’m here because you have something I need.”

Riccardo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“The truth,” she said, taking a step toward him. “What deal did my father make with you? What’s the real reason I’m here?”

Riccardo took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them. His presence loomed over her, his eyes never leaving hers. “You want the truth, Camilla?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “The truth is, your father sold you to me. He promised me that when the time came, you would be mine. And now, here you are.”

Camilla’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. “That’s not the truth. You’re lying.”

Riccardo’s expression hardened, his gaze cold. “I don’t lie, Camilla. You’ve been living a lie your entire life. Now, it’s time to wake up.”

Camilla swallowed the lump in her throat, her mind spinning. She had to hold it together. If she lost control now, she would lose everything.

“I’m not your property,” she said firmly, her voice trembling with rage. “You don’t own me.”

Riccardo stepped closer, his face inches from hers. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.