Chapter Eleven: Excuse me?

The Conte estate stood tall under the moonlight, casting long shadows across the marble steps and tall hedges that lined the compound. Raffaele’s personal building was quiet from the outside, as usual.

Inside his private office, Raffaele leaned back on the dark leather of his chair, arms crossed, legs relaxed, his mind sifting through the information being laid out before him.

Silvio stood near the edge of the desk, his fingers loosely interlocked behind his back.

“They traced the faulty wire transfers from the Eastern connection to a small laundering spot in Prague. Our men in the field are trying to locate the original handler, but nothing seems to be wrong with the entire pack. No quality issues. The shipment weight was normal. That means it was legit but they opened fire, a crime.”

Raffaele didn’t flinch. His dark gaze remained focused on the flame in the fireplace beside them. The quiet crackle was the only thing echoing in the still air between them.

He gave a small nod. “Go on.”

Silvio adjusted his stance slightly. “We almost lost two men during the drop-off. They were attacked directly by the dealer’s men. And if we just let this slip, it'll reach the ears of others.”

Still, Raffaele didn’t speak.

Silvio hesitated, then added, “Giovanni believes it was intentional. To send a message.”

“Giovanni always thinks with fire outside his job,” Raffaele said flatly, his voice low and unimpressed. “And I think it's foolish to just strike the Conte family just because of a message.”

There was a pause.

Then Silvio glanced at the paper in his hand and cleared his throat. “However... there’s something else.”

Raffaele arched an eyebrow, finally meeting Silvio’s eyes.

“One of the Russian bosses contacted us earlier this evening,” Silvio said slowly. “His men came through a direct line and requested an urgent sit-down. No details were left behind just that he wants to speak only to you. And soon.”

That earned Raffaele’s full attention.

He straightened, resting his forearms on the desk. “Name?”

“They didn’t say. Just that he’s coming from Volgograd. His men are requesting our discretion. The message was verified, it’s from the circle that used to work under the late Anton Vostrikov.”

Raffaele’s jaw tightened slightly. The name wasn't a strange name to him.

“Set it up,” he said. “Private room. I’ll hear what he wants.”

Silvio gave a single nod, pulling out his phone to relay the message to their front communication team. When he looked up again, his expression shifted slightly.

“There’s also the matter of retaliation.”

Raffaele’s gaze narrowed.

“For the Eastern suppliers,” Silvio clarified. “Giovanni has a team ready. They’re just waiting for your order.”

Raffaele didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he pushed his chair back and stood. The tailored black shirt he wore shifted slightly as he rolled his sleeves up to his forearms.

“No.”

Silvio blinked. “Sir?”

“Put it on hold,” Raffaele said calmly. “I want to speak to Viviana first.”

At the sound of her name, Silvio paused again. It's just been a few days and he could tell Raffaele was getting obsessed with his wife. As his consigliere and best friend, he has been close to him long enough to know about him.

Raffaele grabbed his jacket and slung it over one shoulder.

“If she’s back, I want to know what she thinks,” he added. “She’s the one who linked us to that supplier.”

With that, he stepped out of the office, his shoes silent on the polished floor as he walked through the wide hallway.

The interior of the building was dimly lit for the night, with soft gold lamps casting warmth across the dark room. Raffaele walked down the hallway calmly passing by two of his guards stationed by the doors, nodding once at them as they straightened instinctively.

He took the stairs toward his private wing where he stayed with Viviana.

And just as he reached the long upper hallway, a familiar figure emerged from around the corner.

Viviana.

She was just stepping in through the main hallway entrance, a coat draped loosely over her shoulders, her heels clicking softly against the floor. Her dressing outlined her figure gracefully. That was one of the things he found beautiful about her.

She looked up and spotted him.

For a brief second, there was surprise in her gaze, but it vanished just as quickly.

“I just got in,” she said smoothly, brushing past him as if she knew he was there for her and she wasn't ready to talk to him. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll freshen up and meet you in the living room.”

He turned slightly as she passed him. His eyes catching a glimpse of something at the edge of her sleeve, barely visible under the cuff of her coat, was a dark splash of red. Blood.

He stared for a heartbeat too long.

But Viviana was already walking away, unbothered.

Raffaele’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t call out to her. She had asked him to stay out of her private life and he would stay out before her only.

He watched as she disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving behind a faint trail of perfume.

“You called.” Silvio said through the device fixed in his ear.

“Let me know where Viviana was tonight,” he said calmly.

“But she said…”

“Do it, Silvio.” he hissed.

“As you wish.”

---

Elsewhere that same night…

Thousands of miles away, the sky above the private runway was blanketed in clouds. A sharp wind rushed through the field as a black car pulled up to a secluded terminal.

Inside a luxurious villa near the airstrip, a woman stood by the window, fingers wrapped elegantly around the stem of a half-filled wine glass. She stared out with silent intensity, her red silk robe fluttering slightly in the breeze from the open doors.

Her eyes, cold and sharp, didn’t blink as the man entered the room.

“Madam,” he said, out of breath. “Signora Angelica Conte is here to see you.”

She turned slowly, a hint of surprise in her eyes, her long black hair falling behind her shoulders. Her nails were painted deep crimson, matching the ruby pendant resting at the base of her throat. She set down the glass with a bright smile.

“I would have never thought Angelica would come down to Switzerland. To whom do I owe this pleasure.” She said, her voice flowing sweetly out of her lips.

She walked out of the room, the man leading the way down to the main living room. The smile on her face didn't fade and it only grew wider when she saw her older sister seated there.

“My, my. To whom do I owe the pleasure? Angelica Conte traveled down to Switzerland to see her dear younger sister.”

Angelica looked up with a slight form, her gaze traveling over Antonia’s shoulders. “Apparently, Raffaele got himself a bride.”

Antonia stopped in her tracks, the smile on her face disappearing as quick as it came. “Excuse me?”