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Marco nods, his eyes sharp. “I’ve been negotiating with a new shipping company, one with less... scrupulous oversight. We can increase our imports by twenty percent without raising any red flags.
“Also, by automating some of our processes, we can cut down on manpower and reduce the risk of informants causing issues.”
I look around the room. “I’ve been setting up a series of legitimate businesses and offshore accounts. We’ll funnel our profits through these entities, clean and untraceable. We’re also investing in some tech startups, a sector that’s less scrutinized but highly profitable.”
My mind works tirelessly, analyzing, strategizing, always thinking ten steps ahead. This meeting isn’t just about maintaining our current position; it’s about cementing our future as the dominant force in the underworld, a force not just feared, but respected and unassailable.
Then Emily enters the room and I don’t give a shit about anything but her.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” I say, signaling the end of the meeting. My men stand, offering respectful nods to both of us as they exit the room.
Once we're alone, I turn to Emily, my curiosity heightened by her somewhat hesitant entrance. Her eyes are moving rapidly, betraying a mix of emotions. “What's wrong?” I ask gently.
She hesitates for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. “I’m pregnant,” she announces, her voice tinged with a vibrant mix of joy and apprehension.
The news hits me with a wave of mixed emotions - joy, surprise, and an undercurrent of concern. “That's... that's amazing, Emily,” I respond, my heart swelling with the news. I pause before adding, “Are you all right with having a baby with someone who's 40? I mean, I'm not a young man anymore.”
The age gap has always been the elephant in the room, and with this new development, I can't help but wonder if it might become an issue.
She meets my gaze directly, a reassuring smile forming on her lips. “Honestly, I've thought about it,” she admits. “But then I see how much energy you have, how you're always up for anything. You have this life experience that I know will help teach our child so much. I’ve “hardly lived in comparison.”
“Done a lot more in the last few months than most people do in a lifetime. I just want to be the best for you and our baby. I want to make sure I'm there for you both in every way I can be.”
She reaches out, placing her hand on mine. “You already are. This baby is going to have a father who's wise, caring, and yes, full of energy amongst the gray hairs.”
I pull her into a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. “We’re going to have a baby!” she squeals as I kiss her. “Happy?”
“Completely. I think this calls for a celebration.”
* * *
Arriving at the restaurant, we are immediately enveloped in its warm and refined atmosphere. The owner, an elderly man named Lorenzo, greets us with a familiar smile.
“Don Vittorio,” Lorenzo says with a respectful nod, his voice rich with Italian accent. He carefully takes our coats. “Always a pleasure to see you and your wife. We are honored to host your celebration this evening.”
He shakes Emily’s hand. “Congratulations are in order.”
She thanks him as he leads us through the restaurant, where the ambiance strikes the perfect balance between luxury and comfort.
The soft lighting and the gentle buzz of conversation create an inviting backdrop. We notice other diners casting fearful glances in my direction. If they only knew I’d spent the last hour on my back begging my wife to let me come before she finally relented, plastering her face with my seed.
We are shown to a beautifully set table near a large window offering a magnificent view of the city’s lights, which twinkle like stars against the night sky. Lorenzo, with his characteristic flair, presents us with the menus. He insists on taking our order himself.
As we peruse the menu, I turn to my wife, acknowledging her expertise in a playful manner. “Why don’t you pick our drinks for tonight? You’ve always had a knack for choosing the best,” I suggest with a smile.
She returns the smile, her eyes alight with amusement. “Well then,” she says, her tone playful, “let’s start with something unexpected. How about we go for a Lafite for my husband and a mineral water for me.”
Lorenzo adopts an approving smile. “Of course.”
I look into Emily’s eyes, filled with love and anticipation for our future. “What do you think about the name Sophia if it’s a girl?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It means wisdom.”
I smile, considering the name. “Sophia, I like it. It’s elegant and strong. And if it’s a boy?” I inquire, joining in the playful speculation. “As I know it will be.”
“How about Alexander? After his father, but with his own identity,” she suggests, a teasing tone in her voice.
I laugh, feeling a surge of pride at the thought. “Alexander... I couldn’t have thought of a better name.”
The conversation shifts to the dreams and aspirations we hold for our child. “I hope they inherit your strength and resilience,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.
