Even though Ciro took his position as head of the corrupt mafia organization Valente very seriously, he despised sitting in this nonsensically large meeting room. But this time he was almost happy that you accepted his invitation to negotiate. How long would it be before you regret it again?

It's not the first time you've entered this room, an elongated table at the end of which Ciro has crossed his legs and is swirling his glass of brown liquid back and forth. The slight twitch of the corners of his mouth and the warning eyes that fixate first on your body and then on your face no longer impress you. “I knew you were good at using your men a long time ago, but you've outdone yourself again, love.”

Your eyes rolled. How you hated that nickname. The small consolation remains that you snatched all the goods from under his nose. Unregistered weapons this time. Before his men could even arrive at the drop-off point near the harbor, yours had already brought them to your own warehouse. Of course, you'd figure out again how to steal the things from him before he could even get his hands on them.

How he would love to lay his own hands on your pretty neck now. But you're too smart to die, he knew your story - there was hardly anyone who didn't. You'd be a perfect move on his board, but you're not on his side. Not yet. Everything would be much easier if he didn't despise you, but contempt wasn't the only thing he felt towards you. Respect, admiration and curiosity broke out in him at the sight of you... perhaps even more than that. “What am I going to do with you? Huh?” Ciro sits up before savoring the burn in his throat. He stands up and slowly walks towards you, circling the table. “What do I have to do to make your clever little fingers work for me instead of against me?”