Signed To The Mafia King - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

LUCA
I sat in my office, fingers around the heavy glass of my tumbler. The whiskey burned down my throat, but it didn’t do much to calm me.
The latest shipment of guns was late. I hated delays.
These weren’t just any guns. The businesses who ordered from me paid top price because they knew I only dealt with the best.
No second-rate stock, no excuses, and definitely no waiting. If I didn’t deliver on time, they’d start looking elsewhere.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
Marco sat across from me, relaxed in a way that made my patience even thinner.
"Anything yet?"
He shook his head. "Still nothing."
I held the glass tighter, then deliberately loosened my fingers. I didn’t want to break the glass. It had been a birthday gift from Sofia. "I want updates every five minutes. If that shipment isn’t here soon, I’ll be the one handling it myself."
Marco didn’t argue. He just nodded, watching as I downed the rest of my drink and set the empty glass on the desk with a dull thud.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my jaw. "Tell me something. Where exactly did my father meet Alina’s mother?"
Marco looked at me like he wasn’t sure why that was suddenly important. "A hotel in the city. High-end place. Not the kind you just walk into without a reservation."
I frowned. "And how often?"
"Just once."
My fingers drummed against the desk. "You're sure?"
"I had someone sitting there for hours. Your father came out after about three hours, left a few minutes before she did. She was wiping her eyes when she stepped out."
"Crying?"
Marco gave a slow nod. "We believe so. She got into her car and drove off. She didn’t have a driver, and they didn’t leave together."
I didn’t like it. It didn’t make sense. My father had no reason to meet with Alina’s mother. None that I could think of, at least.
The whole thing left a sour taste in my mouth.
Irritation built in my chest, pressing against my ribs. I reached for the bottle and poured myself another drink. I had bigger things to deal with than worry about what my father was doing.
"The shipment first," I muttered. "Then we figure out what the hell that meeting was about."
Marco didn’t argue.
I downed the whiskey and stood. "Keep an eye on Roberto, too."
Marco raised an eyebrow. "You think he’s stupid enough to try something this soon?"
"He doesn’t have a choice," I said. "I humiliated him. He’ll want to save face."
Marco gave a short nod. "I’ll handle it."
I reached for my phone and dialed Darion. My private investigator had not called me with any updates. I had given him enough time to dig something up.
It rang twice before he picked up. I put the call on speaker for Marco to listen in. "Luca."
"You have something for me?"
"Yeah. I looked into that dead guy."
My grip tightened on the phone. "And?"
"You’re going to want to hear this."
I frowned, my patience disappearing by the second. "Start talking, Darion."
"Your guy was last seen on camera after leaving one of your clubs," Darion said. "He was being pushed into a dark Benz. Plate was fake."
That made sense, actually. "Then what?"
"He showed up at the hospital a few hours later. Badly beaten. Most of his bones broken."
I frowned. "Who beat him?"
Darion hesitated. "Can’t tell. Whoever they were, they weren’t sloppy. No cameras caught their faces."
I clenched my teeth. Useless. "How does this help me now?"
"You'll like this next bit of information. The police are looking for him."
I sat up, my body snapping like a live wire. "Why the fuck are the police looking for a dead man?"
"His wife filed a missing person report," Darion said.
My forehead went tight. I would certainly have a headache. This was getting worse by the second. If the cops were digging into this, I needed answers before they found any.
"Find out who his wife is," I ordered Marco. "And I need the names of every place he was gambling. It couldn't have been just my clubs."
Marco nodded and pulled out his phone.
I ran a hand over my face. This entire situation was a mess.
First, some unknown bastards had gotten to the guy before I even knew he existed, and now the cops were sniffing around.
I needed to get ahead of this before it turned into a problem. I already had enough problems with Alina and my father.
I hadn't even bothered going into our room. I’d just gone ahead to sleep in a spare bedroom.
Sleeping on the same bed with her would be impossible if I actually wanted to get some sleep.
Where the hell was my shipment?
I checked my watch.
Still no update.
My patience was running on fumes when there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," I barked.
The door opened, and Olga stepped inside. Olga handled the initial arrival of the shipment to base.
My gut went watery the second I saw his face.
The man looked nervous, almost afraid. Olga was never nervous.
My head heated, throbbing. "What?"
Olga shifted his weight. "Boss, the shipment…" He swallowed hard. "It’s been stolen."
The words hit like a slap.
I shoved my chair back so hard it scraped against the floor. "What the fuck do you mean it’s been stolen?"
Olga flinched. "It was intercepted on the way here."
"By who?"
"We don’t know yet."
My blood ran hot. My hands curled into fists. This wasn’t a random hit. Someone had planned this. The guns were too heavily protected to be stolen right off.
"How many trucks?" I asked.
"Two."
My mind raced. Two fucking trucks. Full of guns. Not just any guns—custom, high-end weapons.
"And the drivers?" I asked.
Olga hesitated. "Gone."
I slammed my fist on the desk. "Find them."