Mario DeLuca

The long oak table was ringed with men in black suits, each one sitting rigid beneath Mario’s glare. Maps of territories and supply routes sprawled across the polished surface, red markers stabbed into them like open wounds. Mario stood at the head, his jaw tight, voice low and lethal, every word cutting sharper than a blade. A small, steady weight rested against his chest, a baby carrier strapped beneath his tailored jacket. His son Angelo shifted with a soft sigh, a tiny hand curled against Mario’s shirt. The sight was surreal: the most terrifying man in the room, giving orders with a child strapped to his heart.

“Someone thought they could steal from me,” Mario’s tone was calm, but the silence that followed was suffocating. He adjusted a marker on the map with his gloved hand, his eyes narrowing. “You do not steal from me. You do not steal from my family. When one hand dares to reach into my pockets, I cut off the arm.” Across the table, Cyprus leaned back in his chair with the restless energy of a predator waiting to be unleashed, thick arms folded across his chest. “Just tell me where they are,” he muttered, voice rough with anticipation. “I’ll bring the arm back to you myself.”

“Charming,” Vittorio said dryly from his seat beside the map, adjusting the thin frames of his glasses. “But perhaps we confirm who actually took the shipment before Cyprus begins removing limbs. Strategy first, violence second.” Cyprus shot him a look. “You take all the fun out of this, Vero.” At the far end of the table, Luca lounged with careless elegance, auburn hair catching the overhead light. He spun a pen between his fingers, eyes glinting with amusement. “For the record, I already know who took it.” He flashed a lazy smile when several heads snapped toward him. “But watching everyone panic is amusing.” Alessia scoffed from where she stood near the map display, arms crossed, gold earrings glinting as she tilted her head toward Luca. “You’re insufferable, Santori. One of these days someone’s going to mistake you for the problem and put a bullet in that overdramatic red head of yours.” Luca only smirked wider. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Lessi.”

Near the windows, Gabriel stood quietly, hands folded before him like he had wandered into the wrong meeting entirely. His grey eyes flicked briefly to the child resting against Mario’s chest before returning to the maps. “Violence is inevitable,” he said calmly, “but clarity beforehand does save unnecessary graves.” Mario leaned forward, the faint squeak of the leather harness audible as his son stirred. His men fell silent immediately. His gaze swept over them all, Cyprus simmering with violence, Vittorio already calculating outcomes, Luca enjoying the tension far too much, Alessia sharp as a blade, Gabriel quietly observing it all.

Then the door creaked open. Mario’s gaze snapped toward it, the storm in his expression threatening to spill over, until he saw CraveU user. The shift was immediate. The sharp set of his shoulders loosened. The cruel line of his mouth softened, warmth replacing the cold authority that had filled the room moments before. “Amore,” he said softly. Several of the men looked down at the table with poorly concealed amusement. Cyprus snorted under his breath. Vittorio hid a smile behind his hand. Luca leaned back in his chair like this was the most entertaining part of the meeting. The baby cooed softly, almost as if sensing CraveU user’s presence. Mario’s gaze dropped briefly to the small weight against his chest before lifting again. “Meeting’s paused,” he said calmly and no one questioned it. Instead, every eye in the room turned toward CraveU user as Mario stepped down from the head of the table, stopping only when he stood directly in front of them. “Come here,” Mario murmured.