The Don and His Mafia Princess: Book Two of The Costanzo Series - Standalone

CHAPTER 5

The next day, with a heart heavy with unspoken words and a resolve as unyielding as the California cliffs, I board our private jet to the Golden State. I am determined not to give that man—the one who never wanted me—the satisfaction of seeing me falter. Despite the turmoil churning within me, I am resolute to stand tall. I arrive at the Costanzo Hotel, a bastion of luxury, where I ensure everything is going according to plan before heading to the Costanzo family office in California.

It is a little late in the evening. I am going now because there was a lot. I had to check at the hotel site. After a brief drive, I pay the taxi driver and step into the building.

The office building looms above, its glass facade reflecting the night sky. I push through the revolving doors into a lobby that's quiet at this late hour, save for the soft click of my shoes on the polished stone floor. As I approach, the receptionist looks up from her desk, her face brightening with recognition. I inform her of my appointment, and she nods, directing me to take a seat while she notifies him of my arrival.

"He's expecting you. Right this way, ma'am," she says, coming over to me and leading me towards the elevator. I thank her for her assistance, follow her, and once we arrive, she opens the door without knocking and gestures for me to step in.

I enter, and my heart skips a beat—it is Stefano. I don't know if I am happy; he is the one in town, considering our history together. His office exudes an aura of power and sophistication, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Stefano is seated behind his desk, the surface cluttered with papers and files, a testament to his busy schedule. Despite the chaos, he remains composed, his gaze focused and intense. His sleeves are casually rolled up, revealing the intricate tattoos adorning his arms, a juxtaposition to his formal attire. His suit jacket lies abandoned on the back of his chair. He was the epitome of focused intensity, and I couldn't help but be drawn to it.

"Hello, Stefano," I greet, my voice steady as I approach his desk.

"Sit," he commands, his eyes never leaving his work. Does he know it's me? I hadn't informed the secretary that I was the one visiting, just that a representative from the company was here.

"How are you doing?" I venture, an attempt at casual conversation, before delving into the business at hand.

"When will your brother get here?" he asks abruptly, glancing at his watch, dismissing my attempt at pleasantries. His indifference stings, yet it is a dance I am accustomed to.

"He is not coming. Why are you looking for him?" I ask, my voice laced with a hint of confusion and curiosity.

"I presumed you both were attending the meeting and also in town to oversee the renovations," Stefano replies, his tone matter-of-fact yet carrying an undercurrent of something more.

"And why is that? You don't believe I can handle it on my own?" I can't help but let a touch of offense color my words. It's a challenge, a spark in the dark waiting to ignite.