Page 3 of Prince of Vice

"Congratulations on your freedom, Primo," I whisper, turning toward him with a genuine smile lighting up my face. He offers me a nod, but he doesn't match my enthusiasm. For a moment, I allow myself to bristle at his cold exterior, before once again reminding myself that I don't care.

I know that there is an intensely long road ahead of me, but for now, I'm riding high on the fleeting satisfaction of my victory.

The Marshal comes over and asks Primo to stand. He does, but before he's taken away for outprocessing, he turns to me. "This is far from over." His deep voice and its message resonate with me like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

I meet his gaze, our eyes locking in a moment of mutual understanding. We are connected now, our fates bound together by the threads of this case.

"Nothing worth having comes easy," I say back to him before the Marshals take him away. I gather my belongings and leave the courtroom before Greg can say anything to me.

* * *

I stand in the cold air outside of the city jail. The wind whips around me, biting at my exposed skin like a pack of hungry wolves.

The metal gate opens, and Primo comes walking out. He's not wearing his prison attire anymore. This time, he's wearing what I'm sure is an overly expensive suit, and I hate the way that it hugs his muscular frame so well.

His dark eyes bore into me, as if they can pierce through to my very soul. In the light of the day, I can see just how attractive he really is, tucked away beneath his dangerous aura. I brace myself for the onslaught of his words, a storm I've already come to expect in the brief time since I've known him.

"Isabella," he drawls, the syllables dripping with disdain. "I won't pretend that your performance today wasn't... sufficient. But let's be clear. This little victory doesn't mean I'm convinced you're the right person for the job."

My chest tightens, the familiar serpent of self-doubt slithering through my veins. I clench my fists, refusing to let him see the tremor in my hands.

"I understand that you might have concerns," I say, my voice steady despite the tumult inside of me. "But rest assured, Primo, I will do whatever it takes to prove your innocence."

"Whatever it takes?" He raises an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "You're young, Moretti. And while your passion is admirable, I'm not sure it'll be enough. I need to find someone with more... experience."

His words sting like a slap across my face, but I hold onto my determination like a lifeline. I will not let him undermine me, not when there's so much at stake.

"Primo," I begin, my voice firm. "I've worked tirelessly to get to where I am, and I've earned every success I've achieved. You can choose to dismiss my abilities, but I promise you, you'll never find someone who will fight harder for you than I will."

For a moment, silence stretches between us like a chasm, and I can only hear the distant shuffle of footsteps and the concrete walls behind us. Then, Primo's laughter rings out, a sound as cold and hollow as the cell that just contained him.

“Alright, Moretti, I’ll bite,” he smirks, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "We'll see if your precious little determination can hold up against the forces at play here. Come to the mansion tomorrow. We’ll discuss your strategy for winning my case and I’ll determine then if you’re the right lawyer.”

I swallow down the bitter taste of indignation, reminding myself that it is Primo's life on the line, not mine. "Understood," I reply, my gaze never wavering from his.

I know he's trying to test me already. It's far too soon to have a well-developed strategy. I hold my head up high and meet his gaze.

"See you tomorrow, then," I say.

Primo places his phone to his ear, and within seconds, a black sedan appears in front of us. He gets in and rolls the window down to address me in an overly cliché move.

As I turn to leave, I can feel Primo's eyes boring into my back, but I refuse to let his doubt define me.

Chapter Two

Primo

I stand at the window, watching the sun dip low on the horizon, casting the vast and impeccably landscaped grounds of the mansion in a golden hue. The opulent estate sprawls before me, its manicured lawns and gardens, the sparkling pool shimmering like a sapphire jewel, the fountain with its carved marble cherubs spouting water into the air. It's all so beautiful, yet I feel suffocated within these gilded walls.

I think about my father sitting in prison and a small smile tugs at my lips. My relationship with my father growing up was always difficult, especially with him always favoring my younger brother, Constantino, to succeed him, over me. Dad seems to have gotten what he deserved. Twenty years for fraud and tax evasion. All because he decided to do business with a man, not for his business acumen, but because he was willing to sell his daughter in marriage. Henry Dimes folded like a cheap tent when the authorities came sniffing around his books, and dear old dad ended up with, for his age, essentially a life sentence.

With dad in prison and me under house arrest for my own alleged crimes, it’s certainly given my brother a good opportunity to push his agenda.

The doors to my study creak open, and Carlos "Charlie" Vitale shuffles in, his silver hair combed back neatly. Charlie's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, hold decades of wisdom and loyalty. He's always been there for me, a confidant and trusted advisor.

"Primo, you're brooding again," he chides gently, straightening his suit jacket. "You should try to relax, take your mind off things."

"Easy for you to say," I grumble, my fists clenching at my sides, still staring out at the view beyond the window. "I can't just sit here while my life crumbles around me, Charlie. I need to be out there, handling the family's business."