Vincent's phone buzzed sharply in his pocket, the sudden jolt breaking the heavy silence that clung to him. He glanced down at the screen, the name that lit up making his brow furrow—Marco, his right-hand man.
"Vincent," Marco's voice crackled through the phone, firm and urgent. "Where the hell are you? The organizer is getting anxious."
Vincent sighed. "I'm coming," he replied, his voice steady, though he struggled to mask the annoyance simmering just below the surface.
The charity event was supposed to be a mere formality—a front for the illegal deal they were about to finalize. But the last thing he wanted was to deal with an anxious organizer when he was wrestling with his own thoughts about Eve.
He glanced at his watch, time ticking away. The deal was almost ready to conclude, and he couldn't afford any delays.
With one last glance at the rain-soaked terrace, Vincent turned and made his way down the ornate staircase, the polished wood creaking softly beneath his weight.
The sounds of the charity event grew louder as he descended. The air was thick with chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Lavishly dressed guests mingled in the grand hall, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on their polished faces.
Exiting the grand hall, he entered a dimly lit cabin tucked away from the glitz of the event.
The air was thick with tension and expensive cologne, the kind that came from illicit dealings.
Inside, Marco was already waiting, a tall figure with sharp features and a watchful gaze, ever the loyal confidant.
"Good, you're here," Marco said, his tone clipped. "We can't afford any delays."
"Traffic," Vincent replied smoothly, though the truth was that he had needed the moment to clear his mind. "Let's get down to business."
The organizer, a rotund man with a slicked-back hairstyle and an air of arrogance, stood. "Vincent Marotti," he greeted, with a calculated smile. His name was Leonard Hargrove. "You're a hard man to pin down, but I'm glad we could finally meet. I trust you've had a chance to review the proposal?"
Vincent folded his arms, his gaze icy. "I skimmed it. You're running a charity event, yet this deal feels more like a cover-up than a noble cause. Let's cut the crap, Leonard. We both know what this is really about."
Vincent could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew the man was sweating bullets over this deal—this was his chance to secure funding for his charity, and he was well aware of the risk involved.
Leonard chuckled, adjusting his cufflinks as he leaned against the wall. "You're sharp, Vincent. That's what I admire about you. But let's be real—this charity gala is a front for our business arrangement. I have a reputation to maintain. The funds I raise tonight will be funneled into my legitimate businesses—Hargrove Enterprises specializes in logistics and security, and with your connections, we can expand into areas far beyond what the public sees."
Vincent leaned in slightly, his interest piqued. "What's in it for you? You don't strike me as the type to share profits without a personal agenda."
Leonard's confidence didn't waver. "While I'm interested in profit, I also want power. Aligning myself with the Marotti Empire will elevate my status within the underworld. The more influence we have, the less competition we face. It's survival of the fittest, after all."
Vincent's expression hardened. "And you think I'd let you use my name and reputation for your rise? I don't take kindly to being a pawn in someone else's game."
"Ah, but you see," Leonard replied, his tone turning conspiratorial. "This isn't about pawns. This is about kings. You have the muscle, and I have the strategy. Together, we can eliminate anyone who dares challenge us. Imagine the territories we could control, the businesses we could crush. This charity event is just a distraction, a way to get the public off our backs while we make our move."
Vincent considered this, his mind racing with possibilities. He had always been strategic, but Leonard's ambition was intoxicating. "And how do you plan to keep this discreet? The last thing I need is to attract unwanted attention."
"Simple. We make it look legitimate. I'll ensure that the charity aspect is highlighted in all our dealings, and any funds that look suspicious will be routed through layers of legitimate businesses. It's all about the appearance of charity while we operate in the shadows."
"Discretion is key," Vincent agreed, his voice low and steady. "But understand this: if anything goes wrong, you'll regret crossing paths with the Moratti Empire. I don't give second chances. And remember, if you betray me or screw this up, I won't hesitate to make you disappear. I can be a very unforgiving king." He let out a low chuckle, a dark smile forming on his lips.
Marco observed the interaction with a keen eye, ready to intervene at any moment if tensions flared. He knew Vincent was capable of losing his temper, especially when it came to the family business.
Leonard nodded, his confidence unwavering. "Understood. I wouldn't dream of crossing you. Besides, I've invested too much into this deal already. I need you just as much as you need me."
Vincent straightened, intrigued by Leonard's boldness. "Let's finalize the terms, then. But know this: I'll be watching you closely. One misstep, and I'll wipe that smirk off your face."
"Yes, yes, of course," Leonard stammered, fumbling through his documents. "I have the contracts right here."
Vincent took the documents, his fingers brushing against the paper as he scanned the terms. Everything looked in order.
As he signed the papers, he couldn't shake the memory of Eve from his mind. How fragile she had looked on the terrace, how her tears had cut through him like a blade. He had fought so hard to bury those feelings, yet they resurfaced with a ferocity that left him uneasy.
Once they reached an agreement, Vincent stood, offering his hand. "We have a deal, but remember—trust is earned, not given."
Leonard clasped his hand, a nervous smile breaking out across his face. "You won't regret this, Vincent. We're on the cusp of something great."
Vincent withdrew his hand, giving Marco a pointed look, signaling it was time to leave.
As they exited the cabin, Marco turned to Vincent, sensing his unease. "You okay, boss?"
Vincent grunted in response, his mind still clouded by thoughts of Eve. "Just keep an eye on the organizer. I don't trust him."