The brand-new black BMW with tinted windows climbed the steep, narrow road. A circular cobblestone driveway led to a grand white-pillared villa, perched atop the hill amidst a lush garden teeming with vibrant herbs and flowers.
The car stopped abruptly. Two men, both in their mid-thirties, stepped out. One was short and stocky with a shaved head, while the other was tall, similarly bald, and powerfully built.
They paused, looking down at the City of Naples, sprawled beneath them in breathtaking clarity. The moment was brief; they turned away, walking to the villa’s entrance. Without a word, the taller man keyed in the access code, and they disappeared inside.
The wide corridor stretched before them. The duo stopped in front of a closed office door. The shorter man cleared his throat and knocked once. Silence followed. Moments later, the door opened, and a petite blonde woman stepped out, buttoning her crisp maid’s uniform. Her sharp features softened as she spoke in a low voice.
“He’s not in the best mood today,” she murmured.
The taller man’s lip curled. “When is he ever?”
Her teeth flashed in a quick grin before she walked away, her black skirt swishing as she disappeared down the hall.
From behind the door, a clipped, raspy voice called out, “Enter!”
The two men exchanged glances. After an awkward pause, they stepped inside, freezing in place at the sight of their boss.
"Mattia de Luca is in the city," the man briskly said without making the slightest move. He was still all pent up. Emma's sweet charms took only a tiny part of his stress away. Faint-smelling tobacco lingered in the air, and his two visitors blinked a few times, trying to chase the darkness away from their eyes. Though it was only early morning, heavy black curtains covered all the windows and terrace door.
It was a norm inside this office.
"So, it's true...," the shorter guy slowly uttered. His eyes fixed on the rough, bony face, softly illuminated by an old dusty lamp, relaxedly sitting on the heavy wooden desk. It just got lit, shedding its pale yellow lights across the room.
The outlines of two empty chairs emerged in front of the two men. But they didn't even dare to think about taking their seats. Not without an invitation.
A man in his late forties sitting across them had his square black, fat glasses lowered down his hooked nose as usual. His ice-cold gray eyes were up and alert, staring at the two. A fly's wings, fluttering around, could have been easily heard.
Their boss was worried, they knew. And impatient as always. He took another cigar and lit it up before continuing.
"Mattia's flight landed ten minutes ago. He is headed toward his father's home now. When he leaves it, you follow him. I want to know who he meets, when, and where. And pay close attention to the chicks around him." Paulo di Lauro knew he didn't need to warn these two about staying low.
They would cling to Mattia De Luca's back like an invisible, sticky shadow, following his every movement.
"Yes, boss! Sure, boss!" Paulo's men quickly and indisputably agreed, letting the cigar smoke invade their nostrils.
Paulo pointed at the door, dismissing them harshly. He inhaled another slow puff while looking at their backs relaxedly. His men's obedience brought a grin of satisfaction to his lips. Almost twenty years ago, he became the don of the Di Lauro family, and all his employers still trembled in front of him, just like they should.
Paulo frowned, thinking about the current situation.
Mattia De Luca, now the only living son of Luigi De Luca, was finally back home. That worried him.
Rumors were Luigi would retire soon, handing over his clan to Mattia. Knowing Luigi liked to have complete control in his hands and pull strings by himself, Paulo found that hard to believe.
But just in case he was wrong, he had to prepare and get to know his likely new opponent.
Young Mattia was a mystery among the Camorra families.
If his older brother Andrea hadn't been killed three months ago, things would have been much easier for the Di Lauro family. Paulo still had no idea who was behind that murder. Not knowing it bothered him. But he knew he was ranking high on Luigi De Luca's list of possible suspects.
Whoever shot Andrea dead that day made animosities between the De Luca and Di Lauro families rise to the highest level in the last twenty years. The fear of possible war between clans blanked the city with heavy, dangerous tension. Everyone could feel it.
"Fuck! Andrea De Luca was a well-known territory!" Paulo murmured to himself. His mind was restless, spinning in circles.
The older son was just like his father, cruel and quite predictive.
But Mattia..., well..., they knew almost nothing about Luigi's younger son.
Paulo hasn't seen Mattia since he turned fourteen.
All he knew was the boy had finished high school and college abroad. And that until recently, he had been working for a well-known multinational company. It meant he had stayed out of a family business for years already. Whispers circulated that Mattia didn't have what it took to be one of them. He was too soft inside. So Luigi sent him away to the States when he was just a child, almost renouncing him.
But Paulo had to be sure. Mattia was a man and not a boy anymore. People tend to surprise you. They toughen with time and things happening in life. Nobody knew what kind of a man Mattia was today, not even his father.
The mistakes in this line of business were unforgivable.
He needed to know the man's perks, advantages, and flaws. Mattia's weaknesses, in particular, interested him. All men were soft on something, usually the women.
And Camorra members weren't much different.
Mattia De Luca cared a lot about his sister. But harming Luigi De Luca's only daughter was out of the question. It would only worsen things.
Paulo hated weaknesses. Once, he had one.
“It was nearly twenty years ago when I crushed the Manzarellas,” Paulo said with a smirk. “Only one of them slipped through the cracks—if she even survived.”
He felt a pang inside his heart, thinking about Gianni Mazzarella's only daughter. The only woman he had ever loved but couldn't marry. Twenty years had passed since the last time he saw her. He let her live but never went searching for her. All until seven years ago. But it was too late. Nobody knew a thing about the woman. It was as if she had fallen off the face of the Earth.
For all I know, she could be dead. And most probably is. Paulo shut his eyes, imagining Eva Manzarella's face, still equally vividly as if she was standing precisely here and now in front of him.
"You called for me, father." A young male voice startled him from his thoughts. He lifted his eyes and signaled Mauro Di Lauro, his son and only child, to close the door.
"Sit down!" Paulo ordered, and his son listened, taking a seat immediately. Mauro looked at his father, waiting for what he would say. But he had already sensed it wouldn't be anything pleasant.
"I heard you have a girlfriend...," the old man stated with a sarcastic gleam in his eyes. "Some plain, stupid, innocent Vitucci girl..." He continued mockingly. Mauro could feel his heart beating faster inside his chest before it died in fear.
I only met Lucia two days ago. I didn't even take her out on a date, but my father already knows! Mauro understood what it meant. Lucia Vitucci was in danger if seen with him again. And he knew what his father would say next. He had been listening to it for years any time when he would meet a new girl.
But Lucia was nothing like those girls. Mauro could feel his whole being rebelling against his father's wishes, and it rebelled for the very first time in his life.
"Let me remind you. Those common girls are just for fun. Fuck them and leave them! Don't you fall for her! You are Mauro di Lauro, for God's sake. You'll marry Rita Cimmino when she turns eighteen! It's a done deal!"
"I know..," Mauro said, thinking Rita had just turned sixteen the other day. Their families made this pact six years ago to strengthen their positions. He still had two years to plan something. But he knew his chances were slim.
"Now leave me alone!" Paulo Di Lauro nervously shouted, making his son flee to his everyday duties. He ran out of the office obediently like he was a well-trained dog. The dog he never loved, just as he never loved that bitch of his mother.
If only I had a child with Eva! He wished.
