I settled on my bed, trying to relax. Even though sleep has always been the most difficult thing for me, I still love and respect my resting time. And I hate it when people disturb my hours of peace.
So when Vincenzo stormed in without knocking, I already knew it wasn't going to be something small. But he was able to do that because he's my friend. No other has the right to barge into my room, not even my father no matter how urgent it is.
He stood at the edge of my bed, his fists clenched, his voice tight with frustration.
"Cazzo," Vince cursed, pacing. "They fucked with our container, Antonio. Do you know what that shipment was worth?"
I didn't answer him immediately. Instead, I leaned back against the headboard, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, calm… and calculating.
"Millions, Antonio," Vince pushed. "Millions sitting in the sea, hijacked like we're some petty street crew. Raffaele Salvatore thinks he's clever."
"You think I don't know, Vince? You think I didn't calculate the fucking interest I'll get from each container?" I asked him in a low, smooth, almost too controlled voice. "That's why I'm not exploding like you. Rage is for idiots. Revenge…" I paused, thumb flicking the lighter open and shut in my hand.. "…is best done when the other bastard least expects it."
"Man, you scare the shit out of me at times," Vince muttered, pacing in front of me. "What are you, a patient angel? If it were anyone else, they would've fucked up this city by now."
I tilted my head slightly, watching him like he was overreacting. A smirk tugging at my lips.
"Patient angel? No, Vince. I'm the devil with manners… and that's worse."
"What do we do? Call the men? Burn their penthouse?" he asked, voice sharp.
"Leave it," I said.
Vince's eyes widened. "Tonio? That's millions—"
"I said leave it," I repeated, cutting him off. My tone was sharp, but my face stayed neutral. "Go home. Sleep. Tomorrow morning, I'll send for him."
Vince still looked shaken. He'd been with me long enough to know—when I was calm like this, someone was already dead.
Vincenzo dragged a hand down his face, gave a single nod, and left. The door clicked shut, and silence settled heavy in the room again.
I rose from the bed and stepped out onto my balcony. I needed a smoke to calm the storm inside me — and to steady the itch for blood. Raffaele knew better than to piss me off; he'd been waiting for an opening, thinking he could test me. Instead he walked into the devil's den without permission. Now he can get ready for the consequences. I took a last drag from my half‑burnt cigarette and flicked it into the dark.
I stepped into my office, my right-hand man beside me, his face tight like he could fuck with anyone. I would have teased him immediately, but not now — he was angrier than me.
I looked at my desk to see a lot of files. I turned to Vince and asked,
"What's this?? The last time I came out of this office, I made sure I finished all the files on my table."
He looked at me and scoffed. "Well nobody asked you not to come yesterday, you went in search of your little Ell. Go ahead and call her to come help you out. Now you're trying to complain? I dare you," Vince said.
I stared at him, blinking my eyes like a lost child. "Hey, don't pass your aggression on me. I didn't steal any container — Raffaele did, did I?"
"Yeah, and you decided to act cool about it," he said, sighing as if tired of me.
"Has he called?" I asked.
"Not even a flash," he replied.
"Call him. Tell him I want to see him here in the next thirty minutes," I said.
"This is what I've been expecting," Vince said, bringing out his phone to call him.
"And hey, you have to smile at times. Look at you — you're chasing girls away with your facial expression, and you're trying to chase me away as well, 'cause it's scary," I said jokingly, trying to ease his anger.
"You fool, are you ever going to be serious?" he asked with a smirk.
"Oh, that's it, my handsome baby," I said, and I knew what was coming next.
"Gross. I told you to stop saying shit," we said together.
Told you I know what's coming next, he rolled his eyes and stepped out to call the bastardo.
He stepped into my office twenty minutes later like he owns the room — Raffaele Salvatore, suit bright enough to catch an eye. He smiles like that will save him. But it won't.
Vincenzo stands near the door, silent and solid. My boys hover nearby, ready for any hint of wrong steps or any form of attack.
Raffaele scans the room and meets my eyes. He smairked at him as if he didn't steal from me. I'll surely wipe that smirk from his ugly face.Then I stood up facing him.
"You made a mistake," I say, calm. No theatrics. Just words — sharp enough.
He lifts a shoulder. "Antonio, business is rough. Markets change. I thought we were friends." Smooth. Selling it.
"Friends??." I asked with a smirk. "The last time I checked, friends don't steal from each other. And I have just one friend and he's right there" I said pointing at Vince.
Vincenzo says nothing. He watches. I glance at the window, stare at the cranes for a beat, then turn back. Slow. Measured.
"You stole from me," I say. "Not by mistake. On purpose. That was a message." He swallows.
Raffaele laughs — short, bark-like and ugly. "Risk my network for petty gain? Antonio, come on." He leans forward, arrogant. "I'm careful. Maybe your people slipped."
"Maybe," I say. "Or maybe you wanted to see how I'd react."
His smile falters. "You're overreacting."
I step closer — two paces. Close enough for him to read me, far enough he can't touch me. "Return my goods tonight. Every package. Untouched."
He scoffs. "And if I don't?"
"You'll stop having a name to laugh with. Incase you're forgetting, I'm still your Don and you're not supposed to steal from me. I can kill you right now, right here and nobody will question me. Not even that loser you call a father." I answer. Quiet. Deadly. No empty threats, only certainty.
He looks at Vincenzo, then the boys. Swagger fades. He smooths his tie like armor. "You're bluffing—"
"Bring my goods back by tonight," I cut in. "Or by morning your men will be looking for hiding spots that don't exist."
Vincenzo steps a hair forward. "You got that, Rat?" His voice snaps. Final.
Raffaele sneered, cutting in. "Oh, shut up — you don't have the right to speak when bosses are talking."
Vincenzo's smirk didn't even flicker. "Is that so? Maybe you've forgotten my company sits second in line." He let the words hang, casual and dangerous.
Without hesitation, Vincenzo stepped forward a hair, closing the space between Raffaele and the men behind him. His voice snapped, cold and final: "You got that, Raffaele?"
Silence dropped like a weight. Raffaele's grin thinned. Before he could answer, I added, calm and flat, "And don't forget — he's got anger issues. He can kill you right now. I won't even stop him."
The room tilted; arrogance drained from Raffaele's face, and he nodded . He understood then that this wasn't posturing. It was an order — and orders were obeyed.
Vince dipped his hands into his pocket and moved closer to Raffaele. He brought out his right hand and patted his head. "I like it when people are obedient, rat," he said, then moved back.
I looked at Vince and smirked. Ohhh… I know what this fucker did, I thought inwardly.
"Can you just stop calling me rat?". Raffaele said with a calm voice. Where's the ego he came here with?.
"What's your name isn't it rat? That's your name so you don't have to complain". Vince said
He swallowed, blinked, his eyes darted around the room. And finally "All right. I'll return the container. Before tonight."
"Untouched," I say.
"Untouched," he echoes.
I nod to Vincenzo. "Make sure he keeps it."
Vincenzo checks his phone, unreadable. "If he stalls, we take what's left and everything that keeps him standing."
Raffaele leaves, trying to stand tall but sweating at the collar. Vince watches him go.
"You're too calm, Tonio," Vince says low.
"Calm keeps things tidy," I answer. "Anger ruins everything." I finish the wine and set the glass down. No celebration. We prepare.
After Raffaele left, I looked at Vince and smirked.
"I know what you did," I said.
"What did I do?" Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You planted a camera on him, right?"
"Oh yeah," he admitted with a sly grin. "I need every bit of information. And I know that container was touched."
By dusk I want my container returned. Intact. Or the city will remember why no one steals from me.