In a lavish, wood-paneled sanctuary stacked with rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, priceless artwork, a huge mahogamy old piano, and a massive set of furniture sat Alessandro Salvatore, scribbling some cryptic notes.

His black pen moved fluidly and seamlessly until the metallic door swung open, revealing a good-looking young man dressed in a dark suit, holding a black unsealed envelope in his right hand.

He rushed towards the man, and delivered almost immediately,“ The Don, Miss Sylvester has rejected your marriage proposal.” With a courtesy bow, he stretched the envelope, and tilted his head.

The message was loud and clear. Alessandro had been rejected the umpteenth time. An event that was worth laughing at. How could the most powerful lord in the mafia world face rejections from his subordinates?

These were ladies he could have at the snap of a finger, if he made a concerted effort, with the lady not excluded. Miss Sylvester might be recognised as the most stunning, classy lady in the capital, every man's dream to have, yet, she lacked the capacity to become the wife of the mafia lord.

In fact, he had approached all those ladies as a result of his desperation for a wife. They might look attractive, but are either poor at academics, senseless in their manner of speech and approach, or very inconsiderate beings. He was an Italian mafia lord, and if he wished to retain his position, marriage was the right and only tool.

“It's her loss. "She probably thinks I'm just a random guy who's lucky to have a house and a man working for me.” He said this to console himself. The first time they met, he invited her to his residence, but went ahead to choose one of his penthouses as the location.

The reason for this is uncertain. However, the lady felt degraded, disgusted, and couldn't have the effrontery to tell her friends how her date with a rich, handsome guy went.

She was so embarrassed, and didn't speak with him until he delivered some presents a few days later. This seemed to have pacified her anger. However, he came up with a marriage proposal when she barely knew him! Who does that?

He didn't even show up by himself, rather sent his assistant. She wondered, was Leon the man proposing or Alessandro? Thus, she flung the letters halfway into reading them.

“I'll ensure she doesn't set her eyes on you again,” Leon assured confidently, but Alessandro waved his hand in dismissal. He didn't want the woman to get assaulted as a result of her refusal. If she didn't wish to see him, it was up to her.

“Don't do her any harm. I assume I took things faster than they should.” He replied calmly, looking so collected that it surprised the young man standing next to him. Other times his proposals were flatly rejected, the Don got so furious that he relieved three men from their jobs each time it occurred.

And now his reaction felt like he had given up on the search for a new wife.

“Perhaps...I should-” Leon trailed off when Alessandro interrupted as if reading his mind.

“Just stop searching for any lady for now and focus on the real task.” Switching to his cruel mood, he emphasized, “The Naples are closing in on us, and we're losing ground. The last time a similar thing happened, we were at a loss.”

Now standing upright, his neck raised high, Leon responded respectfully, “Sure! I was about to inform you the other day when--”

“Get three spies into the underground and trace their next moves as soon as possible. We can't afford to have heads roll on our side!” Alessandro instructed, slamming the desk with his fist, groaning like a wounded wild animal.

Leon saluted, unflinching, and exited the room. If Alessandro Salvatore ordered things done, he wanted them done immediately because a moment of delay could make him violent.

When Alessandro finished his self-given assignment and tidying up the desk, he stood up and walked through the long deserted hallway, covering his hands with side pockets, scrutinizing every corner and doors as if spies could have a place to hide.

Sure, his magnificent residence was the least accessible place for spies to intrude into because of its sophisticated security. However, trust was not in his dictionary. The only person he trusted years ago, took it for granted, and trashed it elsewhere.

He was massively greeted by the home workers along the way, but he paid little attention as he gently sat on a gigantic armchair at the center of the living room, and took up a remote. He flipped through the channels, and paused at a random channel when something splendid caught his attention.

Something extraordinary and spectacular. It wasn't something but someone. A lady in particular, an extremely beautiful young lady whose sleek, long, black hair bounced softly as she walked up the stage confidently in a stunning black maxi gown, obviously from chiffon material. Her rich porcelain skin and beautifully crafted body figure accentuate her striking features.

With a gracious smile on the face that enhanced the eyes that sparkled with deep satisfaction and accomplishment, she cradled a gleaming award, exuding elegance and beauty in every way, that he was eager to know more about her.

She walked up to the microphone stand, and gave a detailed speech. He watched her lips move rhythmically and abruptly paused as if sensing someone dully concentrated attention on them. Her eyes fixed on the screen, Alessandro's heartbeat skipped as if he had been caught red-handed. But then she took a bow, and climbed down the stage.

At the time the camera was no longer focused on her, Alessandro's mobile phone laid by his side buzzed to life, signifying an incoming call. Not needing to check the caller, he placed it on his ear.

“Speak!” He ordered, his mind failing to divert from the young lady on the screen. Leon's terrified voice filled the silent atmosphere.

“Don, the information reaching me right now is that a handful of our men have been murdered by mysterious mafia gangs suspected to be from Naples. But one thing is wrong: there is no proof or traces of where they might be hiding.”

Enraged, Alessandro stood up, rubbing his temple. The Naples messed with the wrong person. If they thought Alessandro would behave like other rival groups, they had better think again.