I'll Settle This Score for You

I am about to book a room at a hotel owned by Luca Conti, a consigliere under my command, when a sharp voice suddenly cuts in from behind me.

"Aspetta. That's not your price."

I turn around. A woman wearing a manager's badge stands there with her arms crossed, scrutinizing me as if I am an unsightly stain she can't wait to wipe away.

"We don't allow prostitution here," she says coolly. "If you're receiving clients, there will be a fine."

As she speaks, she hands me a penalty notice.

The charges are clearly listed on the paper.

"Illegal guest reception fee: 350 thousand dollars.

"Special soundproofing fee: 150 thousand dollars.

"Special cleaning fee: 100 thousand dollars.

"Total fee: 600 thousand dollars."

Receiving clients?

I have simply come straight from a Mafia cocktail party without changing clothes—that's all. What exactly does she take me for?"

I lift my gaze and answer evenly, "You're mistaken. I am not that kind of person. You can contact the hotel owner, Luca Conti, and ask him who I am."

A sneer flickers through Sofia Rossi's eyes. She spits to the side, full of contempt.

"Still claiming you are not a puttana? Women like you come here every week. Every single one of them swears she knows him.

"Our boss is the consigliere to the Russo family, the most powerful Mafia family in Seneriffe. Do you really think he needs someone cheap like you?

"I suggest you pay up now, subito, before your client loses patience and drags you into the street and rapes you."

I do not waste another word on her. I take out my phone and send a message directly to my secretary, Marco Bianchi.

"Notify Luca. Either this manager, Sofia Rossi, disappears from this city, or he does."

...

It was Thanksgiving. I had given my personal guards the night off, telling them to go home, eat a proper meal, and be ordinary people for a few hours.

And that was how I ran into this mess.

The woman in front of me rolled her eyes coldly.

"Ms. Hooker, if you can't even afford a room to receive clients, then hurry up and get out. Don't dirty our hotel lobby."

Her voice was loud enough to draw everyone's attention. Some people even started taking photos and recording videos.

I took a deep breath. I had no interest in explaining myself. I dialed Luca Conti directly.

The ringtone sounded again and again—no answer.

Very well. Ignoring a call from the Donna of the famiglia? Luca, you were so dead.

I put my phone away and raised my hand, showing her the obsidian signet ring on my finger.

"Look carefully. This is the Russo family crest. My name is Talia Russo. I am Luca's superior. If you still don't believe me, go check the transfer documents for this hotel's operating rights. My personal signature is on them."

I thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong.

Instead of apologizing, the woman let out a cold laugh. She stepped forward and stabbed a finger hard into my shoulder.

"You filthy bitch, still putting on an act? What family ring? That's the payment you spread your legs to beg from my boyfriend, Luca.

"I noticed a long time ago that you're the only one he pinned at the top of his chat app."

"I didn't want to deal with you, but you dared to storm into his hotel, flaunt that vulgar ring in front of me, and dress like this to provoke me? You must have a death wish."

At that moment, I finally understood.

The woman spitting accusations at me was Sofia Rossi, the so-called secret girlfriend Luca had been seeing.

This farce about fines had never been a misunderstanding. She had decided I was the woman coming in between them and wanted to teach me a lesson.

I had to admit, Luca had a poor taste in women.

"I will say this one last time. I came here to book a room after a meeting, just to rest at a nearby family hotel. I have no interest in your boyfriend at all. I didn't even look at him as—"

I didn't get to finish. Sofia cut me off, her voice rising, "Since this lady insists on challenging the rules of the Russo family, then I will handle it secondo le regole."

She clapped her hands. Two burly men burst out of the shadows like guard dogs.

One clamped a hand over my mouth, leaving me gasping for air. The other wrenched my arm brutally behind my back, my bones crying out under the strain.

I struggled and reached for the gun strapped to my thigh. Sofia spotted it instantly and screamed, "You're still lifting your skirt at a time like this? Who do you think you're seducing? Break her hands."

Two sharp cracks rang out. My wrists dislocated, and my arms dropped limply at my sides.

They dragged me without mercy into the hotel's garbage room. The door slammed shut behind me with a bang, cutting off the cheerful Thanksgiving music outside.