CHAPTER 3

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"No one is more dangerous than he who imagines himself pure in heart, for his purity, by definition, is unassailable." - James Baldwin

Piero Antonio POV

I leaned back in my leather chair, frustration etched across my face as the day's responsibilities weighed heavily on my shoulders. My office, a sanctuary of power and secrecy, was now disrupted by the news of an unpaid debt. Santino, my trusted second-in-command and my best friend since our training in Mafia, stood by my side, alert and attentive.

"Boss, there's a call from the warehouse," Santino informed me, his voice reflecting a mix of urgency and deference. He knew the importance of delivering information promptly, even in the midst of my intense focus on managing both legal and illegal enterprises.

"Give me the damn phone," I replied, my voice laced with authority and annoyance. I had little patience for interruptions, especially when it came to matters of debts and obligations. 

As Santino handed me the phone, my grip tightened, a silent symbol of my resolve to deal with the situation swiftly and decisively.

"Pronto, cosa desideri?" I answered curtly, my annoyance thinly veiled. In this world, time was money, and every minute wasted on unnecessary conversations was a loss of potential profit.

(Hello, what do you want?)

"Boss, il signor Lambordi non ha pagato il suo debito nei nostri confronti ed è già in ritardo di un mese," my underboss relayed, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and frustration. The weight of unpaid debts threatened not only our financial stability but also our reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

(Boss, Mr. Lambordi has not paid his debt to us, and it's already one month overdue)

"Allora, fai il tuo maledetto lavoro e assicurati che capisca le conseguenze di sfidarci," I responded sharply, my impatience palpable. It was essential that my underlings understood the gravity of their responsibilities, especially when it came to enforcing our rules and collecting what was owed to us.

(Then you do your goddamn job and make sure he understands the consequences of crossing us)

"Abbiamo già minacciato lui, boss, ma insiste nel voler parlare direttamente con te, non importa cosa facciamo," my underboss explained, his tone indicating a hint of helplessness. The audacity of Mr. Lambordi to challenge our authority by seeking a personal audience with me fueled my anger further.

(We've already threatened him, boss, but he insists on speaking with you directly, no matter what we do)

"Maledetto stronzo," I muttered under my breath, my frustration mounting. I knew that this situation required my direct intervention. The audaciousness of Mr. Lambordi demanded a response that would teach him a lesson about the consequences of defiance.

(Fucking asshole)

"Gli farò vedere cosa si guadagna per avermi disturbato," I vowed, my voice seething with determination. With a firm grip on the receiver, I began devising a plan that would not only ensure the repayment of the debt but also send a chilling message to anyone who dared to cross the boundaries of my power.

(I'll show him what he gets for disturbing me)

In this world of shadows and deceit, I thrived on maintaining order through fear and respect. Every challenge, every obstacle, presented an opportunity to solidify my position as a formidable force in the criminal underworld. And Mr. Lambordi would soon discover the high price of crossing paths with a man like me.

As the plane soared through the sky, carrying me towards the sprawling metropolis of New York, I delved into the tasks that demanded my attention. The rhythmic hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop as I navigated the intricacies of my business empire.

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