Chapter 01. In the Crosshairs

The office was quiet. Elio Mancini sat in his small cubicle at the back of the building, working through files with the steady focus of someone who actually enjoyed what they paid him to do. His mother had gotten him the position here, after his previous job fell through — the streets had grown too dangerous back then, kidnappings by the most powerful mafia family skyrocketing overnight, and they'd had no choice but to seek the Mandeli family's protection.

It was a good job. Safe. He liked the work well enough, even though his real passion had always been animals.

Elio had a habit of putting on piano music while he worked, or letting an animal documentary play softly through his earbuds. The other employees kept to themselves, which suited him fine. But after a few minutes, the murmur of voices drifted through the office — someone had arrived.

Apparently, a friend of their employer had shown up and was meeting with him in the conference room. Elio didn't pay much attention. He rarely saw Attorney Mandeli anyway.

About half an hour later, he realized the printer was out of paper and headed to the front of the office to grab a ream.

On his way back, rounding the partition, he nearly collided with a man. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes that were almost unnervingly beautiful — catching the light like polished amber. His body was clearly the product of discipline: broad shoulders, sculpted frame, the kind of physique that didn't happen by accident. His clothes confirmed what Elio already suspected — this was no ordinary visitor.

White dress shirt, black trousers, dark leather shoes, a black blazer. No tie. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest. Elio swallowed hard. Despite the man's striking appearance, there was something terrifying about those eyes.

"I'm sorry," Elio said, dipping his head in a small bow.

He'd always been the quiet type — or at the very least, someone who avoided socializing whenever possible. Whenever people asked his mother why he didn't seem to have any friends, she had a simple answer: He's shy.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, kid."

The man's voice was so deep it sent a shiver down Elio's spine. That low, resonant tone made him oddly compelling. Elio didn't linger. He turned and headed back to the copy room.

...

"I didn't know you had such attractive employees, Mr. Mandeli," Vicenzo Di Marco said the moment he walked back into the attorney's office.

"Oh? Who'd you meet?" Mandeli replied with a sly grin.

"A kid with bluish eyes. Pretty face. Though his fashion sense is a bit... aggressive."

"Ah, you're talking about Elio."

"So that's his name." Vicenzo leaned back. "I didn't have the nerve to ask him. He seems incredibly shy."

Mandeli let out a hearty laugh. "Don't let that pretty face or that shy act fool you. Trust me — that boy is nothing like what he appears to be."

"Really?" Vicenzo's interest sharpened. He licked his lips, remembering the boy's gaze. He suddenly wanted to know if Elio was everything his grandfather's old friend described. If so, he might just be exactly who Vicenzo had been looking for.

"But be careful, Vicenzo." The warmth drained from the room. Mandeli's expression turned dark. "Don't you dare lay a hand on him."

The shift was so sudden that even Vicenzo felt the weight of it. Despite being near equals in temperament and power, he had genuine respect for this man. Still, the threat only made him more curious.

"Why the warning, my dear attorney?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and holding the older man's gaze.

"Elio Mancini is the son of someone I care about deeply. I won't let you put your filthy hands on him. Besides, he's only nineteen — far too young for you."

"All right, all right." Vicenzo raised his hands in surrender, smiling easily. "Besides, I'm a hundred percent heterosexual." He shifted in his seat. "Anyway, I actually came here to ask you something. Do you know anyone who might be interested in marrying me?"

"Marrying? You're serious about getting married?"

"I'd rather not — not after what happened last time." A heavy sigh escaped him. "But my grandfather won't let it go. You know I take marriage seriously, and even though I enjoy jumping from bed to bed, I'm not about to marry any of the women I sleep with. They're not my type."

Mandeli couldn't quite wrap his head around it. The man sitting across from him was attractive, a wildly successful businessman, owner of some of the largest companies in Europe, and one of the most feared men on the continent. He could have anyone — models, actresses, heiresses. Looking for a wife out of nowhere? It made no sense.

"But those women are gorgeous. In every way. Anyone would dream of being with someone like that."

"They're all plastic," Vicenzo said with a laugh that drew a reluctant smile from Mandeli. "But honestly, that's not the issue. People can modify their bodies as many times as they damn well please. The thing is, Godfather —" His tone turned serious. "Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but the right person hasn't come along yet. Someone to replace her. Until that happens, I don't want to get married — especially not to some girl who's only after money."

"Then why ask me if I know someone?"

"Simple. If she's only marrying me for the money, that's fine. I keep living my life, and my grandfather gets off my back. The younger the better — young girls are easy to manipulate. A few sweet words and they'll eat out of your hand."

"That's contradictory." The attorney settled deeper into his chair. "But clever. I'll give you that. Unfortunately, I don't know anyone who fits the bill right now."

Vicenzo's face fell with disappointment as he took a sip from the glass in front of him.

...

By late afternoon, the office had emptied out. Only Mr. Mandeli's personal secretary remained, since he was still deep in conversation with his guest.

Elio had also stayed late. He had a mountain of backlogged work, and while Mandeli was a good man, he had zero tolerance for employees falling behind. It was seven-thirty in the evening by the time Elio finally shut down his computer and packed up to leave.

He said his usual polite goodbye and got a cheerful "See you tomorrow" from the secretary.

He walked to the entrance to wait for his older brother, popped in his earbuds, and stood by the door. A gorgeous car was parked right in front of him — a black Ferrari, the kind that screamed money from every angle. Elio sighed. A car like that could only belong to someone born into wealth. Even walking too close to it felt dangerous. One scratch and he'd be indentured to the owner for the rest of his life — and even that probably wouldn't cover the damages.

"Excuse me." A light tap on his shoulder, accompanied by that deep masculine voice, made him look up. "Could you move? I need to get going."

"Oh — yes, I'm so sorry." He stepped aside with a small bow.

"You're Elio Mancini, right?" Elio wasn't surprised that the man knew his name. He assumed Mr. Mandeli had mentioned him.

"Yes, sir."

"I have a proposition for you."

Elio froze, completely blindsided. What kind of proposition could a total stranger possibly have for him? He didn't even know the man's name — though he was clearly one of the most prominent figures in Italy, powerful in both the underworld and the business world. Elio didn't know much about engineering, but he knew this imposing man was the youngest tycoon in the country. A civil engineer who could, with a single word, bring the nation's most important buildings crashing to the ground.

"I..."

"Elio." His brother's voice came from behind him, and Elio turned with visible relief. The stranger's piercing stare had been making his nerves crawl. "Let's go."

"I have to leave. Goodbye, sir."

Elio Mancini. The name began circling through Vicenzo's thoughts as he watched the boy climb into another man's car. His lips curved into a satisfied smile.

He got into his Ferrari and, before pulling away, dialed a trusted contact.

"Look into Elio Mancini. He works for my godfather, Mr. Mandeli."

Vicenzo Di Marco had found what he was looking for. Despite Luigi Mandeli's warning — the barely disguised threat — he had no intention of stopping. He had someone in his crosshairs now, and everything Vicenzo Di Marco wanted, he got.

That fragile-looking boy was the perfect prey for his ruthless jaws. He wasn't looking for romance. He wasn't looking for someone to love him. He was certain he would never love anyone again. Never. And that made the boy the perfect option. If his grandfather objected, Vicenzo would have the upper hand either way.

...

"Grandfather." Vicenzo greeted him with a smile. The old man returned it. It had been quite some time since he'd seen his grandson in person. Vicenzo had grown — there was no trace left of the rebellious teenager he'd once been.

"Vicenzo. Your father... when is he coming?"

A shrug. "He said sometime this week. Didn't give me a specific day."

The truth was, Vicenzo Di Marco had returned to his native Italy from Russia at his father's request. Salvatore Di Marco had summoned him — it was time for Vicenzo to take control of the Di Marco clan.

"We have urgent matters to discuss." The old man tossed several photographs onto the glass coffee table. "Vicenzo, a new group is trying to sabotage us and take over our territory."

"Since when?" Vicenzo picked up each photo and studied them carefully. He didn't recognize a single face, which troubled him.

"A few months now. I don't have an exact start date for when the betrayal and intelligence leaks began."

"So we have a mole in the organization." Vicenzo's brow furrowed. Traitors were a fact of life in their line of work, but the Di Marco family had always maintained fierce internal loyalty. This was a first.

"Several, actually. That's why I need your father here." Gabriele took a sip from his glass. "There's also another important matter we need to discuss."

"What's that?"

"You still don't have a wife."

Vicenzo exhaled in frustration. He loved his grandfather, but the constant pressure to marry was infuriating. He'd lost all taste for commitment. Not anymore.

"I'm working on it," he said, rising and heading for the door. Then he paused. "But you won't have a problem if it's a husband, right?"

He walked out without waiting for an answer. His grandfather's usually unreadable face betrayed a flicker of... something. Whether it was displeasure, surprise, or some strange form of approval was impossible to tell. But the old man was certainly caught off guard. He'd always known his grandson as a man who relished the company of beautiful women.

He was well aware of every one of Vicenzo's affairs. Which was precisely why he couldn't fathom his grandson wanting to marry a man.

"Young Vicenzo certainly surprised us," said a man standing nearby — Marcello, his right hand. "I never imagined he could be interested in men. He's always been such a... libertine. Completely devoted to women."

"Marcello." Gabriele cut him off.

"Sir."

"Find out who my grandson wants to marry. I will not allow just anyone into this family."

"Yes, sir."

And that was how Elio Mancini found himself in the crosshairs of the most powerful family in the Italian underworld. The poor boy had no idea that two of the mafia's most dangerous minds had their eyes locked on him.

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