*~ Enzo ~*
Lucas — one of my drivers who also served as my bodyguard — was behind the wheel, driving me to The Bahamas Club to meet Luca for the great plan he had orchestrated with the help of his sister Allison, who was currently in London with their parents.
Allison just never had any good ideas or plans.
But I didn't have a choice here. Not with my parents pressurizing the board and hiding under business ethics. I was sure they would stop at nothing until they saw me get married. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and let it drift to the other world — the one that ran quietly underneath everything else.
The mafia world.
I was grateful for the fact that my Uncle Alfredo and Adrian — the sensible twin — were the ones handling the underground. I was the Don by title, but it was Uncle Alfredo and Adrian who carried that responsibility on their shoulders every single day. My role was the legitimate side — the business my father had built and handed over to me.
My father, Romano Salvatore, had started that business with the help of my mother, Sophie. She had never liked the mafia world. She had no choice in it — my father was born into it, the same way all of us were — but she had made her feelings known from the very beginning. She pushed him. She convinced him to build something real, something clean, and together they had built something extraordinary. My grandfather had accepted that part of my father's life without resistance because above everything else, the old man loved his children deeply.
It was my grandfather who had taught me and the boys about the mafia life.
He was gone now. But his lessons weren't.
And Nonna Emilia — she was still here. She had called right as I was about to leave the company tonight, which was exactly why I arrived late.
Out of everyone in this family, Adrian and I were the only responsible ones. Matteo and Aiden — how those two were even my family, I would never understand.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when the car slowed and stopped.
"Boss, we are here," Lucas said from the front.
I stepped out of the Ferrari. The cold air of Milan hit my face immediately — sharp and clean — reminding me that winter was almost here.
The Bahamas Club was exactly the kind of place that didn't need to announce itself.
From the outside, it was sleek and understated — a dark glass facade with soft amber lighting lining the entrance, the kind of glow that felt expensive without trying. Two suited doormen stood at the entrance and stepped aside the moment they recognised me. Inside, the club opened up into something else entirely.
The main floor was vast and beautifully designed — dark marble floors that caught the light like still water, low hanging gold pendant lights suspended from a ceiling that stretched high above. The bar ran the full length of one wall, backlit in warm white, lined with bottles that caught the light like jewels. Velvet booths curved along the sides in deep burgundy and black, each one intimate and private. Soft jazz pulsed underneath the low hum of conversations and the quiet clink of crystal glasses. Everything about The Bahamas Club said money, taste, and discretion.
A female staff member appeared almost immediately — polished, professional, a practiced smile on her face.
"Mr. Salvatore," she said smoothly. "Mr. Anderson is waiting for you at the VIP booth. Please follow me."
I followed her through the club, past the main floor and through a private corridor that opened into the VIP section. The VIP booth was separate from the rest — more secluded, quieter, its own small world. Dark glass panels on two sides, a curved booth seat in deep black leather, a low table with a bottle of my favourite wine already breathing at the centre.
Luca was already there.
"Hey buddy," he said, standing as I approached. We bumped fists.
"You came late," he added.
"I got a call from Nonna when I was about to leave the company," I said, sliding into the booth.
He nodded and said nothing more about it. That was the thing about Luca — he always knew when to push and when to leave something alone.
I poured myself a glass and looked at him.
"So," I said. "Who is this girl suitable for this job?"
Luca leaned back with that particular smile — the one that told me I was not going to like what came next.
"She went to the restroom," he said. "She'll be back in a moment." He paused. "Do you remember Bella? Allison's college friend. The one you slept with during Allison's birthday party two years ago — right before Allison left for London."
I stared at him.
"You must be kidding me."
"Calm down bro," Luca said, holding up a hand. "Allison told me she's the best fit for this. She needs money for her business and she's discreet. It makes sense."
"You told Allison about this?" I kept my voice low. "Luca — you know that once Allison knows, Matteo is bound to know as well. And no one should ever trust Matteo with a secret."
"Allison promised not to tell anyone," Luca said. "Not even Matteo."
"I don't believe her," I said flatly. "And why on earth would you agree with Allison about picking Bella of all people — just because I had a one night time of fun which I don't even care to remember?"
Luca opened his mouth to respond.
Then someone coughed behind me.
We both looked up.
Bella.
She stood at the entrance of the VIP booth looking exactly as I remembered — tall, effortlessly glamorous, the kind of woman who knew how to make an entrance without even trying. Her hair was a deep, striking red that fell in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the warm amber light of the club and turning almost copper at the ends. She was dressed in something sleek and fitted, her posture easy and confident, red lips curved into a smile the moment our eyes met.
She walked over immediately and leaned in toward my cheek.
I moved back slightly, just enough.
What is wrong with all these ladies trying to kiss me every time when it is so obvious I hate it, I thought.
She didn't miss a beat. She sat down across from me, smoothed her dress, and looked at me directly.
"Nice to see you again, Enzo," she said. "I called you several times after that night. You never picked up. And then you blocked me."
"I told you that night not to contact me," I said. "Don't read meaning into everything that I do."
She shrugged one shoulder — unbothered, almost amused.
"Nice to see you again anyway," she said. "You look even more handsome."
"Mm."
She turned to Luca. "Luca, you wanted to see me — what is it?"
Luca was about to respond when I spoke first.
"It's fine," I said. "We actually won't be needing your help."
Luca nodded smoothly. "Yes, Bella. But don't worry — I'll call you tomorrow."
I stood up.
Before I could move, her hand found mine on the table. She leaned close, her voice dropping low near my ear.
"Can you give me one more night?" she said softly. "I miss you."
I almost smiled.
Any other night, I might have said yes. I had never been the kind of man who said no to that kind of offer. But tonight I was tired — the board pressure, my parents, the weight of all of it sitting somewhere at the back of my skull. And underneath all of that, something else. A quiet, persistent thought I wasn't ready to examine yet. One certain blonde who made me do things the normal version of me would never do for anyone outside of family.
I removed her hand from mine.
I leaned down and said quietly into her ear — "No. I am not in the mood."
I straightened up and walked out. Luca followed without a word.
Outside, the cold Milan air hit us both again. I stopped walking and turned to him.
"Remind me," I said, "to never listen to you and Allison's ideas again. That girl Bella will complicate things for us."
Luca smiled.
"Because our Enzo only fu*ks," he said, "and does not do love."
I punched his arm.
"Crazy idiota."
He laughed. "Love you right back, idiota."
I got into the car. Lucas pulled away from the kerb and the city began to move past the windows in streaks of gold and dark.
I closed my eyes.
I didn't say it often. I barely said it at all.
But I was grateful — genuinely, quietly grateful — for the gift of Luca in my life.
*******