Done Deal

“…An EMP?” Giordano asked, his tone dropping instantly into a deadly serious register. “A localized pulse, or something bigger?”

“An apex trigger,” Victoria drawled. She reached back, lazily accepting a thick, matte-black file from Kany before tossing it onto the scarred mahogany desk. “A device compact enough to fit inside a briefcase, but powerful enough to fry the entire power grid and digital defense infrastructure of an entire territory. You build the hardware weaponization; my syndicate handles the deployment.”

Giordano frowned, the sudden shift from corporate flirting to cold, geopolitical reality clearing his head instantly. “Do I look like someone who manufactures heavy hardware, Victoria? I own a cybersecurity conglomerate. I don't build weapons of mass disruption.”

Victoria chuckled darkly, releasing her brutal grip on his wrist and taking a slow, elegant step back. “Don’t play stupid with me, Salvatore. Two weeks ago, a decommissioned Soviet-era activation matrix went missing from a black site in Naples. My people secured the hardware. What we don't have is the bypassed cryptographic key. The previous engineer's brains were splattered across the wall trying to crack the encryption. You’re the only black-market designer alive with the algorithmic keys to wake it up.”

Giordano studied her every movement with keen, calculating eyes. His onyx gaze traced her petite features—the striking silver-gray orbs, the perfect Grecian nose, and those cruel, heart-shaped lips.

“Initially, I thought you came here to make a legitimate corporate proposal,” he murmured, stepping toward his private bar cabinet.

“Don’t beat around the bush, Salvatore,” Victoria countered, watching him pour a generous measure of dark red wine into a crystal glass. “You claim to be an innocent tech mogul. However, my sources say otherwise.”

She tapped the file on his desk, letting the contents spill open. Giordano’s hand froze mid-pour. Splattered across the dark wood were high-resolution photographs of his classified blueprints, signed black-market shipping manifests, and encrypted transaction records routing back to an anonymous buyer in Naples.

“You investigated me?” Giordano’s voice thundered, a low, dangerous growl vibrating in his chest. Yet, beneath the sudden flash of anger, a spark of absolute fascination danced in his eyes. “You truly are one of a kind, Empress.”

Victoria smirked inwardly, catching the mixed emotions flitting across his handsome face. “Do you still need more evidence? I can have Kany play the audio intercepts of your private arms deals if you prefer.”

Giordano cleared his throat, smoothly recovering his composure. He picked up the wine glass, a slow, reckless smile returning to his lips. “You know, I never anticipated a Tuesday like this. You barge into my headquarters, terrorize my executive staff with a tactical strike team, hold me hostage at gunpoint on my own desk, and demand military-grade tech. You are beautifully unhinged, Miss De Luca.”

“Well, at least you are a willing hostage,” she mocked, smoothly reaching out to intercept the glass of wine he had poured for himself. She took a slow, deliberate sip of the vintage red, her gray eyes darkening to the color of a winter storm. “Now, back to business. Build the EMP trigger for me, or I will systematically burn down every single thing you have built. Starting with the foundations of DanTech.”

The innocent, angelic public persona of the Diamond Queen was entirely gone, replaced by the terrifying, malicious grin of the underworld's most ruthless sovereign.

Marveled by her sudden, imposing shift in gravity, Giordano sat back casually in his leather swivel chair, slowly twirling the remaining wine in his glass. “Is that an explicit threat, Miss Victoria?”

Before he could even blink, a deafening crack shattered the silence of the office.

The crystal wine glass in Giordano’s hand exploded into a thousand glittering shards. He sat perfectly still, his jaw tightening as he slowly turned his head. 

Victoria stood a few feet away, her custom-made pistol unweighted in her hand, wisps of gray smoke curling from the barrel. She hadn't missed; she had deliberately shot the stem of the glass out from between his fingers.

“It’s not a threat, Salvatore. It’s a promise,” she murmured coldly.

She downed the remaining wine from her own glass in one smooth gulp, setting it down on his desk before turning sharply on her heel. Kany instantly threw open the heavy office doors, stepping out to clear the path.

At the threshold, Victoria paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Friday night. Nine o'clock. Helms Cove. Show up with the prototype blueprints, or you will deeply regret the day you crossed my path.”

With that, the doors clicked shut, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in her wake.

Out in the executive lobby, Bruce heaved a massive, trembling sigh of relief the moment he watched Victoria and her armed vanguard disappear into the VIP elevator bank. Throughout the entire floor, secretaries and tech executives alike slumped against their desks, hyperventilating.

“Mr… Mr. Bruce… should I… should I contact the federal authorities?” Sullivan, a pale-faced developer with giant, oversized glasses sliding down his nose, whispered as he quivered in fright.

Hearing the absurd question, Bruce’s lingering panic instantly morphed into pure, unadulterated fury. He lunged forward, grabbing Sullivan violently by his starch-white collar.

“You want to call the cops? Are you entirely brain-dead, Sullivan, or did you choose to ignore the crest of the De Luca syndicate on those tactical vests?” he thundered, his face flushing red. He glanced down at the developer’s name tag and hissed, “If you truly possess a suicidal urge to call the police on the Empress, do it after you submit your resignation! Clear your desk!”

Shoving the trembling developer aside, Bruce spun around to face the rest of the floor. His anger skyrocketed when he spotted a junior receptionist holding up her smartphone, clearly trying to hide a recording screen.

“You! Go straight to Human Resources and collect your termination letter,” he barked. Without waiting for a response, he sprinted past the elevators and threw open the heavy stairwell door.

“Mr. Bruce! Take the lift!” Sullivan yelled after him.

“Who gives a damn about the lift? The boss might be bleeding out on his floor!” Bruce shouted back, his footsteps echoing wildly as he bounded up the concrete stairs three at a time.

Inside the penthouse suite, the heavy mahogany doors burst open.

“Sir! I thought you were dead! What did that she-devil want? Does she want a hostile takeover? Shares? Intellectual property? We are a cutting-edge cybersecurity firm, not a damn jewelry supply chain—”

Bruce ranted frantically, collapsing into a chair, his face slick with sweat and chest heaving from the sprint.

“Are you completely finished, Bruce?” Giordano asked, his voice dripping with dry irritation.

His dark brows were furrowed, his eyes locked entirely on the empty crystal glass Victoria had left behind on his desk. He reached down, idly picking up a sharp, splintered fragment of the wood her bullet had carved out. “Stop acting like a panicked rookie.”

Instantly, Bruce took a deep, steadying breath. He pulled a crisp linen handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his face clean of sweat, and adjusted his tailored suit jacket. The panicked persona vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused demeanor of a high-level mafia consigliere.

“My apologies, boss,” Bruce said quietly, his voice dropping into a professional register. “How did she obtain that data? I thought the Naples transaction records were scrubbed from the dark web servers two years ago.”

“The Mafia Empress doesn't play by standard rules,” Giordano reasoned, a slow, dangerously intrigued smile spreading across his lips. “Someone leaked an internal file to her, and she’s pulling every thread until she finds the source. She’s angry, Bruce. And an angry Empress is an exceptional weapon.”

He stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the sprawling city skyline.

“Get the security team to completely lock down our deep-data vaults. If she managed to dig up the Naples files, I want to ensure she doesn't find anything else before I'm ready to hand it to her.”

Bruce bowed his head respectfully, turning to execute the order. However, he froze mid-step when his boss spoke again.

“Clear my schedule for Friday night. I’ll be meeting her at Helms Cove to deliver the preliminary encryption architecture.” Giordano’s smile turned dark, possessive, and deeply calculating as he twirled the heavy black fountain pen between his fingers. “And Bruce? Prepare a bouquet of custom, diamond-studded roses. If the Empress wants to play a game of shadows with me, I need to ensure our first official date is entirely unforgettable.”