Infiltration (Part Two)

Luca Romano

The suite was bathed in soft golden light, expensive chandeliers glimmering like jewels above. Matteo Greco sat comfortably in a plush chair, a half-smoked cigar dangling from his fingers. The faint aroma of luxury filled the air—rich leather, aged whiskey, and the faint sweetness of fine tobacco. Two women lounged near him, draped in dresses so tight they looked like they’d been painted on, their laughter high and hollow.

As I pushed the cart into the room, Matteo glanced at me, his sharp eyes sizing me up. A smirk tugged at his lips as he gestured lazily toward me with his cigar.

“Ah,” he drawled, “the humble servant.” He leaned back, addressing the women. “Ladies, this is what happens to a man without power. He ends up… pushing carts in a monkey suit.”

The women giggled, their laughter grating against my ears.

Matteo wasn’t done. “Tell me, ragazzo,” he continued, his tone mocking. “Do you ever dream of being something more? Or is this the highlight of your miserable life?”

I ignored him, my expression calm as I removed the steel cover from the cart, revealing the expensive bottle of wine nestled in velvet.

Matteo chuckled, rising from his seat. “Ah, Claudia’s finest,” he said, plucking the bottle from the cart. He examined it like a prize he’d won.

He turned to me, holding the bottle mere inches from my face. “This,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “is the reward of my hard work. How much do you think this costs? Hmm? Probably your entire year’s pay—if not more.”

The women laughed again, their amusement growing louder.

Matteo leaned closer, his breath warm and reeking of whiskey. “You can go now, cameriere. Your services are no longer needed.”

I nodded without a word and turned to leave, my expression betraying nothing. Outside the suite, Rico and one of my men stood where the second guard had been moments earlier. The original guard was already taken care of—swift and silent.

“Now what?” Rico asked, his voice low.

I looked at him, my lips curling into a faint smirk. “Now we wait.”

The sound of bodies hitting the floor came minutes later—thuds muffled by the thick carpets. I exchanged a glance with Rico and nodded.

We pushed the door open and stepped inside. The two women were slumped over the couch, their glasses spilled on the table. Matteo was sprawled in his chair, his cigar extinguished.

“They’re out,” Rico muttered, gesturing for the others to move in.

Two of my men entered, dragging the women out swiftly and silently. The room felt colder, emptier without their false laughter.

“Time to wake the prince,” I said, my voice calm.

Matteo groaned as he regained consciousness, his head pounding. He blinked against the sharp wind biting at his face, the world slowly coming into focus. He was upside down, suspended from the balcony of his suite. The glittering lights of Palermo stretched out beneath him, a dizzying reminder of how high up he was.

His breath quickened as he looked down, realizing the only thing keeping him from plunging to his death was a thick rope tied around his ankles.

“Where… where am I?” he stammered, his voice hoarse with panic.

“Still in your suite,” I said coolly, taking a drag from the cigarette in my hand. I was seated across from him on a sleek chair, my suit pristine, not a hair out of place.

Matteo’s eyes darted to me, and recognition dawned. “You,” he hissed. “You’re Luca Romano.”

“Smart,” I said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.

Matteo’s panic twisted into anger. “The Claudia family will kill you for this! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

I leaned forward, the cigarette balanced between my fingers. “You’re in no position to make threats, Matteo. In fact, the only thing you should be worrying about is whether you’ll survive the next five minutes.”

His bravado faltered as I spoke. The fear in his eyes was raw, unfiltered.

“We know about the ceremony,” I continued, my tone steady. “We know you’re about to be made. But there’s one thing we don’t know—the location. Only invited members are privy to that little detail, and lucky you, you’re one of them.”

Matteo’s lips pressed together tightly, his silence defiant.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” I warned.

“Go to hell,” he spat.

I sighed, flicking the ash from my cigarette. “Wrong answer.”

I stood, moving closer. Matteo flinched as I reached out, pressing the glowing end of the cigarette against his eye.

His scream tore through the night, raw and guttural.

“Still want to play tough?” I asked, my voice cold.

Matteo gasped, tears streaming down his face, but he said nothing. His silence was infuriating, but I didn’t have to wait long.

Rico’s voice called from inside the suite. “Boss, we’ve got something!”

I stepped back, leaving Matteo hanging as I walked inside. Rico held up a black envelope, the Claudia family seal glinting in gold.

“Invitation,” Rico said. “All the details. Location, time, everything.”

I nodded, glancing back toward Matteo. “So, he’s useless now.”

Matteo heard me, his muffled cries growing louder. “No! Wait! Please! Don’t—”

I turned to one of my men. “Cut the rope.”

The man hesitated only for a second before pulling out a knife. Matteo’s screams echoed as the rope snapped, his body plunging into the darkness below.

Rico looked at me, a question in his eyes. “What about the wife?”

I lit another cigarette, taking a slow drag before answering. “Tell her husband has moved on with another woman. And send her something convincing. She doesn’t need to know the truth.”

Rico nodded, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he walked off to handle it.

I exhaled smoke into the cold night air, watching it dissipate. Matteo Greco had been a small piece in a larger game, but his fall was just the beginning. The Claudia Empire would crumble, one way or another, and I would be the one to pull it apart, piece by piece.