EMPIRE IN OBSIDIAN
The morning light barely touched my room- not that it ever dared. My bedroom was painted in obsidian matte black walls, high arched windows veiled in velvet drapes, and the scent of power stitched into every inch. No warmth. No softness. just the quiet hum of silence and shadow. I rose from the bed, bare-chested, muscles stiff from another sleepless night. Slipping into black gym shorts and a fitted tee, I headed to my private gym-glass-walled, overlooking the unforgiving Florence skyline. I ran two hours straight, not because i had to...but because control was ritual.
Every step,
Every breath.
calculated.
On my way back, I passed Enzo--my 19-year old brother, all cocky smiles and mafia blood. He leaned against the hallway wall, spinning a butterfly knife like it was a toy.
"Good Morning, capo", he smirked.
"what now?"
"Our old friend Franco's getting married, "he said." to the Russian's daughter. Mafia princess. Dangerous move."
I narrowed my eyes. "And you're planning something stupid."
Enzo only grinned wider. "Relax. Just a small fire. Maybe his wedding cake explodes."
"Don't be careless," I snapped. "if anyone finds out it's you...."
"yeah, yeah . I vanish like a ghost." He winked and walked away whistling.
As Enzo walked off, mischief flickering in his eyes, I stood still- watching him disappear down the corridor.
I knew that look.
He was going to do something.
Something reckless.
Something dangerous.
It's not that I don't trust him....he's blood . But Enzo is nineteen. A genius with a mafia mind, yes . But still young. Impulsive. One wrong move could start a war , that i don't want. I exhaled slowly, jaw tight. Everything has to be perfect. Every move calculated. Every secret buried. I pulled out my phone and dialed a secure number. "keep your eyes on Enzo," I ordered flatly. "I want to be informed of every step he takes - where he goes, who he talks to, what he breathes near. I don't care how. Just don't let him out of your sight." A brief pause "yes, boss". I ended the call , morning light spilling through glass as silence settled like a warning".
I went to my room and took a showered in ice-cold water -- needed the chill. I wrapped a black towel around my waist and stood before the mirror, water dripping from the hair, staring at a face carved by fate. After dressing in a tailored black suit, I strapped on my golden Rolex with emerald face. Slid my gun into the inner chest holster. Tucked . Locked. I looked at myself one last time. "No mercy today".
Downstairs, Matteo's call came" Boss, the interior design firm is ready. you have a meeting this afternoon. High-end company. Clean. Discreet."
"good", I muttered. " Text me the file".
I stepped into the elevator. Seconds later, the doors opened to my waiting Rolls Royce Moscow 777 -- polished obsidian, shining like sin. My bodyguard held the door open. The city passed in cold flashes as we drove. I don't look at people -- I watched power.
Influence.
Movement.
Control.
Finally, we arrived at Crimson Cartel Enterprises -- my empire. The building itself was intimidation, glass and iron with no warmth, just dominance. Inside, the lobby whispered royalty. Black marble floors. Gold accents. Employees lined the walls in silence as I passes. I entered my private elevator, rising to 54th floor. My office awaited. Jet black walls. Velvet drapes. Heavy chandeliers dripping crystals. Shelves of rare books and locked safes. The desk was carved from obsidian, leather chairs designed for war councils, not meetings. The air was chilled -- just the way i liked it.
Moments later, Matteo stepped in -- sharp suit, tablet in hand. " your schedule today, sir", he said. "you have the design firm meeting at 1:00 PM. Security briefing after. A online meeting with Mexican arm. Dinner with Russ'o allies - optional".
"Cancel dinner", I said without looking up." And Matteo?"
"yes , sir?"
"This design company ... I want details. Every detail. Especially who they send". Because today it feel's like it wasn't going to be ordinary.
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