Page 38 of Mafia Daddy

I pick up the fallen king and set it back in its starting position. The board is reset. The previous game continues.

I reach for my phone and open the encrypted messaging app…

MAXIM: Come to the apartment this afternoon. I want to run through options on the cartel situation. Also need your read on whether Paolo Lentini can truly be trusted or if this truce is just convenient theater. Bring any new intel you have.

Michael’s reply comes back almost immediately.

MICHAEL: On my way. Should be there within the hour. I already have some thoughts on both fronts.

Good. With Michael and Kobek, we can map out the next several moves. The cartel probe at the bar was only the beginning. If they’re testing our strength, we need to respond in a way that discourages further aggression without starting an all-out war on multiple fronts.

And Paolo… I need to know if he’ll stand with us when blood starts flowing, or if he’ll watch from the sidelines and wait to pick over the remains.

I stand and walk to the window, looking out over the city.

From up here everything looks orderly: cars moving in neat patterns, buildings standing like silent sentinels.

But I know better.

Beneath the surface it’s all chaos and ambition, alliances shifting like sand.

My thoughts drift back to Milo. The way he flicked that king over. The flash of defiance in his eyes. He’s angry with me now, but anger is useful. It reveals what a person truly cares about.

The boy wants to matter. He wants information. He wants control in a situation where he has almost none. I can work with that…

Slowly. Carefully.

I finish my vodka and set the glass down. The chess engine is still waiting for my next move, but the real game has already begun. Milo is a new piece on my board. The boy is unpredictable, high-value, and currently sitting in my territory whether he likes it or not.

I will teach him the rules.

And if Milo proves worthy, perhaps one day I will let him help shape the endgame.

For now, though, I have a cartel to deal with and a truce to test. I roll my sleeves up and return to the chessboard, mind already turning over strategies, contingencies, and the best way to handle the fiery brunette currently sulking somewhere in my apartment.

The next move is mine.

12

MILO

“Urgh, what… time…” I splutter. “What was I just dr…”

I wake up with my throat dry as sandpaper and my heart still racing from another half-remembered nightmare.

The city lights outside the window cast faint silver patterns across the ceiling, but the apartment is otherwise dark and silent.

My bedside clock glows 3:17 a.m. I lie there for a minute, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth, before deciding I can’t go back to sleep like this.

Water from the ensuite tap feels boring. I want something cold and sweet.

Apple juice. With ice. Maybe that will settle me?

I slip out of bed, grab Zoop from where he’s tucked against the pillow, and tuck him under my arm like a security blanket. My sleep shorts are soft and loose, my vest thin. I don’t bother with a robe, the apartment is warm, and it’s the middle of the night.

Maxim’s almost certainly asleep anyway.

The hallway is pitch black. I move slowly, one hand trailing along the wall so I don’t bump into anything. The marble floor is cool under my bare feet. Every tiny sound feels amplified: the soft pad of my steps, Zoop’s worn fur brushing my side, my own breathing.