The Mafia Throne

The room smelled of power - aged leather, fine whiskey, and something darker, something dangerous. Heavy velvet curtains muffled the thunderstorm outside, casting the De Luca estate into a twilight of flickering candlelight and gold-lined shadows. A dozen oil portraits stared down from the walls, each depicting a former kingpin of the De Luca bloodline. Men who built empires from blood and betrayal.

Now, Alessandro De Luca stood at the helm of it all.

But he didn't sit on the throne.

Not yet.

He stood behind it, towering like a storm about to break, hands resting on the ornate wooden curves of the chair. That throne - carved from black walnut, padded with deep red velvet - had once belonged to his father. It was a symbol, more than a seat. A warning.

And yet, someone else was in it now.

A woman.

Legs crossed, fingers elegantly resting on the lion-headed armrest, she sat like royalty, unbothered by the storm outside or the danger inside.

Elena Romano.

She wore a silk gown the color of champagne and danger. The slit in the dress revealed just enough leg to distract, but not enough to disarm. Her posture was relaxed, yet regal. A woman not asking for power - claiming it.

"You're bold," Alessandro said, his voice as sharp and smooth as a blade. "That chair belonged to my father."

Elena didn't flinch. "I know. But your father is dead, isn't he?"

Silence cut through the room like a knife.

His jaw tensed. "Watch your mouth."

She tilted her head, her gaze gliding to meet his like a dare. "Why? You don't like the truth?"

Alessandro circled the throne slowly, his tailored suit barely rustling. He looked like a man ready to kill - calmly, surgically. "You weren't invited here."

"I was summoned," she said, raising one eyebrow. "By your consigliere. Apparently, you need me."

"I don't need anyone." He stopped in front of her, his voice colder now. "Especially not the daughter of a traitor."

Elena's eyes darkened, but she didn't move. "You think my father betrayed you. But betrayal... runs deeper in your house than mine."

That hit a nerve. Alessandro didn't show it, but she saw it - in the faint twitch of his eye, the stillness of his breath. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. But so did he.

He'd done his research. Elena Romano - daughter of Vittorio Romano, once a high-ranking member of the De Luca Mafia. Executed seven years ago for selling secrets to the Bratva. After his death, Elena vanished. No trace. Nobody. Just whispers.

Until tonight.

And she hadn't returned begging.

She came back sitting in his chair.

"Tell me why you're here," he said.

She rose slowly, her body language fluid and lethal, like a blade unsheathed. Now they stood toe to toe.

"I have something you want," she said softly. "And I want something in return."

His gaze flicked downward for a split second - not at her body, but at the hidden bulge near her thigh. A concealed weapon. She hadn't come unarmed. Smart.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Protection," she replied. "From your enemies. And from your allies."

"And what makes you think I'll give it to you?"

"Because if you don't..." She stepped closer, her breath warm against his skin, "I'll expose everything. Every file. Every secret. Starting with what really happened the night your father died."

He froze.

Only three people knew the truth about that night - and two of them were dead.

Alessandro's pulse slowed, not sped. That's how he processed danger - with stillness.

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?" she whispered.

Before he could answer, the doors to the study burst open.

"Boss!" a guard shouted, panting, his face pale. "You need to see this."

Alessandro didn't move. "Talk."

The guard's eyes flicked toward Elena, then back. "Romano's people. They've made a move. They took Giulio."

Alessandro's eyes narrowed. "Giulio was under my protection."

"They left a message," the guard said. "They want her."

All eyes turned to Elena.

She didn't flinch. She smiled.

"Of course they do," she murmured.

Alessandro stepped closer, grabbing her wrist. His grip was firm, but she didn't pull away.

"What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she replied calmly. "They think I know where the files are."

"What files?"

She stared up at him. "The ones that could destroy your entire family."

The air grew heavy. Thicker than blood.

"You're lying," he said.

"Then why are they willing to kill your men for me?" Elena asked. "Why did your consigliere call me behind your back? Why haven't you asked what your father did to mine?"

"Because I don't care."

"Liar."

Before he could respond, a second explosion rang through the estate - this time closer. A chandelier above them trembled.

Screams echoed from the hallway.

Automatic gunfire followed, loud and chaotic.

"They've breached the gates!" the guard yelled, drawing his weapon.

Elena turned to Alessandro, urgency sharpening her voice. "You want to survive tonight? Then follow me. I know a way out."

"You know this house?" he asked, stepping back, stunned.

She smirked. "I grew up in it. Before your father took everything from mine."

Another blast - this one shook the walls. Smoke seeped through the hallway.

Alessandro's instincts screamed not to trust her. But his gut said she wasn't lying - not about this.

"Go," he ordered the guard. "Fall back to the inner wing."

Elena grabbed Alessandro's hand. Her fingers were cold, but steady.

"Come on. We don't have long."

She pulled him down a hidden corridor behind a bookcase. Dust clung to the walls. Cobwebs. Forgotten memories.

"This tunnel hasn't been used in years," he muttered.

"Exactly. Which is why no one will think to look for you here."

They descended the narrow steps. He could hear more gunfire above, and something else - sirens? No. Too soon for the cops.

Bratva, maybe. Or worse.

At the bottom of the stairs, Elena stopped. She turned to him, her eyes harder now.

"There's something you need to understand," she said. "I didn't come back to ask for protection. I came back to take something that was stolen."

"And what's that?" he asked.

She looked him dead in the eye.

"Everything."

And then the door at the end of the tunnel burst open.

Figures flooded in - masked, armed, and deadly.

Elena cursed. "They found us."

Alessandro reached for his gun.

Too late.

A voice from the shadows said: "Drop the weapon, De Luca. Or she dies first."