SIXTY FOUR

In Sicily, Dominique Santos lay sprawled across a luxurious bed, the room filled with heavy scent of cigars and expensive cologne.

He was having a good time with a sex worker , he thrusted in her out of her, with a cigarettes clinged between his fingers.

She was positioned in a doggy style, her moans mingling with the low throb of music in the background. He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, savoring the moment.

His phone buzzed on the night stand, and he glanced over, mildly annoyed at the interruption. The sex worker continued her rhythmic movement but , Domnique’s attention had shifted. He reached over, grabbed his phone , and checked the message. It was an invitation to the prestigious ball party in New York.

“Hold on a second,” Dominique muttered, his mind already spinning with the possibilities this invite presented.

The sex worker paused, looking back at him with a mixture of confusion, and impatience. Dominique took another drag from his cigarette , then flicked it aside , a predatory grin spreading across his face.

“We’re done here.” He said abruptly, pulling out, and standing up. He handed her a stack of bills without another word, his focus entirely on the message in front of him.

She rose from the bed, gathered her things and left, casting one last puzzled glance at the powerful man who had just dismissed her all of a sudden.

Dominique dialed Ronald's number, pacing the room as he waited for an answer. “James, it's Dominique. I’ve got an invite to a ball in New York . Perfect opportunity to meet with Lucas Moretti . Prepare everything for our trip.”

“Understood sir. When do we leave?” Ronald asked, his voice crisp and efficient.

“Tomorrow morning, Make sure everything is ready. I want Lucas to know we’re coming.” Dominique commanded.

“Very well sir,” I’ll handle it.” Ronald replied before hanging up.

Dominique smirked, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. He had always respected Lucas for his intelligence and bravery. This time, however, Dominique was determined to turn the table around.

…….🌵

Marco lay in his hospital bed, his leg encased in a thick cast, throbbed with pain. His mind a whirlwind of rage and humiliation.

Giovanni entered the room, holding an envelope. “Boss, you received an invite for the ball in New York. It's because you’re part of the Moretti.”

Marco snatched the envelope, his eyes narrowing, as he read the details. The thought of attending a glamorous event in his current state was unbearable. He crumbled the invitation in his fist.

“Throw it away,” Marco growled, his voice dripping with venom.

“But, boss, this could be an opportunity to…..”

“No,” Marco interrupted, his tone icy. “Ii won't let Lucas see me like this. He’ll think he’s won. We’ll bide our time. When i’m back on my feet , we strike.”

As Giovanni nodded, the door swung open, and Dr Russo , the head physician, walked in. He glanced at the crumbled invitation in Marco’s hand but said nothing, focusing on his patient instead.

“How are you feeling today. Mr Moretti?” Dr Russo asked, his tone professional.

“How do you think I'm feeling?” Marco snapped, “I’m stuck in this damn bed, while the world moves on.”

Dr Russo examined Marco’s leg, che king the bandages and the alignment of the cast. “Your recovery is going well, but you need to rest and avoid stress.”

Marco scoffed, “Avoid stress?” Do you know who I am? Stress is part of my daily routine.”

Dr Russo remained calm, accustomed to dealing with difficult patients. “I understand, but your health should be your priority now. Pushing yourself too hard could delay your recovery.”

Marco gritted his teeth, his frustration palpable. “Fine….But I won't be stuck here forever.”

The doctor nodded, finishing his check up, “If you need anything , don't hesitate to call for a nurse. I’ll be back k later to check on you.”

As Dr Russo left, Marco's anger simmered. He felt trapped and powerless , two things he despised more than anything. His leg ached dully, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the burning frustration he felt.

The invitation to the ball taunted him from the bedside table, a stark reminder of the life he couldn't participate in. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Mia. She walked in, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

“How are you holding up Marco?” Mia asked,her voice soft but steady.

Marco's eyes softened as he saw Mia, “Been better,” he admitted.

Mia’s expression shifting from mild concern to annoyance as she took in Marco's anger, “You look upset, what's wrong?” she asked , taking a seat close to his bed.

Marco clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing with rage, “I got an invite to the ball in New York,” he spat . “But I can't go, I can't let Lucas see me like this.”

Mia's eyebrows lifted in surprise, “You’re angry about a party?” She asked, incredulous.

“It's not just a party Mia, It's a chance to show strength, to make alliances ,” Marco snapped, “But in this condition I look weak.”

Mia sighed, her irritation, giving way to a more strategic mindset, “I got an invite too, and I'm going.”

Marco’s eyes narrowed, “And what good, Wil that do?”

Mia leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspirational whisper, “Olivia is the right target Marco, of you can get Olivia, you’ll get Lucas.”

Marco's gaze hardened, “I know Mia, but it isn't that easy,” Marco stared at her, his mind racing, “Why do you care so much about Olivia.”

Mia’s expression hardened, “Because she has what should be mine. Lucas was mine, before she snuggled her way into his life . Seeing them together makes my blood boil.”

Marco chuckled darkly, “Forget about Lucas Mia, you betrayed him, remember? Lucas never forgives betrayal. He already saw us together.”

Mia scoffed, a deadly smile playing around her lips, “It's all Olivia's fault, Anyday I set my eyes on Olivia, I'll make sure I hurt her. She needs to know what it feels like to lose.”