TRAPPED In the Mafia’s Snare…

In Italy,

 “Capo, Mr. Romano is here to see you,” Marco Russo, dressed in a well-tailored suit informed with an Italian accent as he entered an expansive office that contained a meticulously organized grandiose desk that stood at the center of the room, its surface occupied by different executive gadgets.

The walls were decked with contemporary artwork in gilded frames, the floor-to-ceiling window provided a panoramic view of the city skyline with plush leather chairs and sofas for guests.

He let the file slip from his grasp, raising his eyes to meet his personal assistant’s gaze. “Now, what does that stronzo want from me?”

Marco, with a raised eyebrow, responded, “No idea, Capo, but I bet it’s nothing good, especially with the incessant calls he’s been making.”

After a contemplative nod, he declared, “Then let him in,”

Showing a sign of respect, Marco left the office to escort Mr. Romano inside.

He came back to the office with Mr. Romano, a young businessman also the same age as the guy he was smirking at. As a matter of fact, they grew up together as rivals and could never stand each other. Marco observed the tension between the two.

“Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lorenzo!” Stefano exclaimed in a playful Italian accent while laughing as he walked toward the desk, shaking his head at the same time. “You’ve ascended to a king now, my friend, but it seems you’ve forgotten how to take me seriously.”

Lorenzo chuckled in response, countering, “Now? Building Spark Conglomerate wasn’t a one-day affair, Stefano. Are you out of your mind?”

Stefano clenched his teeth in frustration, pointing accusatorily as he said, “You… cavolo!” shaking his head with a disapproving frown. “Io ho bisogno del tuo aiuto con qualcosa (I need your help with something).” 

Lorenzo, tilting his head with an arched eyebrow, responded to the words unspoken.

“Didn’t you hear me, or do you want me to speak in English? You worked for my father; you’re obliged to work for me, bastardo!” Stefano bellowed, frustration evident in his voice.

Lorenzo, sporting a knowing smile, retorted, “You need my help with something, Stefano. However, just because I worked for your father doesn’t automatically mean I work for you. As a matter of fact, you’re gazing at one of the wealthiest men in Italy, helming the leading corporation with assets worth trillions of dollars. I’m also the Don of Italy’s underground world. I’d advise you to watch your tone with me, or I might forget you’re his son.”

Stefano, letting out a shaky breath, nodded with a smirk, struggling to contain his anger towards Lorenzo. “Not too long ago, you settled my dad’s unfinished business after he passed away, whoo! Even their deaths still give me the creeps!” He shuddered while hugging himself.

Seizing a chair, he took a seat before continuing, “It was enough to learn that despite your accomplishments, you still feel beholden to my father for shaping who you are. I am my father’s son, and you are the Mafia of the Romano Family, which is why you must help me.”