Page 17 of Unspoken Ties

“Ouch,” I said in mock-pain. “You don’t care what your husband thinks?”

She reached out and swatted my knee. “You know what I mean.”

A light chuckle escaped me as I caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know,” I said quietly, offering her a warm smile as the tension in the car lessened for just a moment.

The car pulled up to a nondescript brownstone building nestled in a row of similar structures, a relic left untouched by the city’s rapid modernization. We exited the vehicle, Liria gripping my arm for support as her heels clicked against the cobblestones. A heavy wooden door loomed ahead of us and I pushed it open, leading her into a dimly lit hallway.

We were directed towards a room at the end of the hall, its door guarded by two hulking men whose severe expressions hinted at the danger lurking behind them. As we approached, they assessed us with scrutinizing gazes. Liria tightened her grip on my arm, her nails digging through the fabric of my suit. The larger of the two pushed the door open, revealing a room that was starkly different from the rest of the building. It was well-lit, with walls adorned in expensive artwork and a single, grand mahogany table at the center.

There, sitting with an air of authority that could only be earned through decades of ruthless leadership, was a man named Raffaele.

It was a name that held weight, as he was a feared figure in the underworld. Even Liria, who had been sheltered from her father’s darker dealings, recognized him instantly.

His eyes were sharp and piercing, like an eagle’s, and his graying beard gave him an aura of wisdom and experience. When he saw us enter, he rose gracefully from his mahogany chair, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hilaria Alto,” he said. “I thought you were a myth.”

Leone kept Liria sheltered from the world as much as possible. She had been homeschooled and only allowed to attend crucial events. She was so infrequently seen that none of the Don’s from the four families had ever crossed paths with her before.

“Moretti,” I said firmly. Although Raffaele was not a person one should correct, I had to confirm the changes.

“Moretti,” he echoed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Liria summoned as much courage into her voice as she could and responded. “N-Nice to meet you as well.”

“I see you’ve stepped into your father’s shoes.”

“Well… that is…” she looked away from him, unsure how to respond.

“Leone’s death was unexpected and unfortunate,” I interjected, drawing Raffaele’s attention from the now trembling Liria. “In the wake of the tragic event, the Alto and Moretti family have decided to combine.”

“Hmm,” he said, moving closer to us. “And whose idea was that, Mrs. Moretti?”

“Um…” She shrank away from him as he entered her personal bubble. “B-both.”

Raffaele studied us both for a moment, a ponderous look passing over his features. “Fascinating.” He gestured towards the chairs opposite him at the grand mahogany table. “Please, have a seat.”

I pulled out Liria’s chair for her and shot her a reassuring glance as she sat down. She nodded, hopefully drawing strength from my presence.

We sat in silence for a few moments. The grandiose room filled with an intensity that was palpable. It was in these moments that negotiations were made and fates decided.

Raffaele took a sip from his fine crystal glass before speaking. “So what exactly does this merge mean for our operations together? Should they continue?”

With determined focus, I launched into action. The notes left behind by Leone had been thoroughly studied and analyzed, revealing gaps in his strategies. These findings were eagerly relayed to him, a small taste of the value I could bring to our partnership.

Throughout it all, Raffaele listened. His hawkish eyes never leaving mine as I detailed the proposed changes. An underlying current of mutual respect formed between us, even as tension hung in the air.

“And what say you, Mrs. Moretti?” He turned his attention to Liria, his gaze filled with curiosity. “Do you stand by your husband’s plans for our future?”

Liria looked from me to Raffaele, a faint line of concern marking her forehead. She had been silent throughout the discussion, her involvement being more symbolic than anything else. A representation of her father’s legacy.

“Always.”

My excitement was nearly overwhelming. Although short, it was one of the best answers she could have given.

Raffaele seemed to appreciate her response, nodding approvingly. “Well,” he began, “This is indeed an unexpected change in our alliances, but not unwelcome.”

He raised his glass towards us in a silent toast before taking another sip, a sign of acceptance that we both recognized.