The Don's Legal Eagle's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance

1. Emilio

Igripped the wheel tightly as the roar of gunfire echoed off the buildings, raining bullets down on my black 2022 Bugatti La Voiture Noire. However, there was no damage left behind because it was bulletproof.

The chaos was palpable, but it was a situation I had been in before, more times than I cared for. Although my day job was CEO of Royalty Rentals, I, Emilio Fiore, was, after all, a scion of one of the most successful mafia families by blood.

My fingers danced across the steering wheel, the vehicle responding smoothly to my every touch. The car I drove was no ordinary luxury sportscar.

It was a marvel of engineering inspired by James Bond, equipped with state-of-the-art technology and custom modifications designed to outmaneuver even the most determined pursuers.

The Mancini gang was relentless, a formidable force in their own right, though they couldn”t compare to the Fiore family. The feud with the Mancini gang wasn”t just about power; it was rooted in betrayal that had festered over time, which fueled a rivalry stretching back to when I was a child.

I couldn”t fault the Mancinis for their anger. The animosity was all because of my father. I didn”t possess the complete narrative of the betrayal, but I had overheard a conversation between my father and uncle one day, enough to know that my father was at the heart of this enmity. I was not surprised.

I knew firsthand just what kind of man my father, Mathias Fiore, was; while he was my blood, he was no hero.

It was frustrating to be tangled in this web of hatred due to circumstances not of my own making. I didn”t care for this feud, for the bitterness it carried. Yet, because we were his sons, my older brother and I became prime targets in their vendetta. It was ridiculous.

Although I couldn”t hold the Mancinis solely responsible, I refused to be a sacrificial lamb to atone for my father”s actions. My mind raced as I deftly navigated the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. The adrenaline surged through my veins, heightening my senses and sharpening my reflexes.

The street erupted with gunfire, the sharp cracks of bullets filling the air. I could see the flashes of the muzzle from the pursuing vehicles.

Bullets pierced my back-left tire. I quickly hit another button on my car panel, and the tire instantly inflated.

“Let’s see how they like this,” I couldn’t stop from grinning as I flipped the switch on the steering wheel with my right thumb. Fifty sharp, two-inch spikes were released from the back bumper, with two sensor grenades that activated once a vehicle drove near them.

The car directly behind me exploded, lifting at least 10 ft in the air before crashing down on the other vehicle behind it.

Instinctively, I accelerated, pushing the car to its limits. As I skillfully maneuvered through a sharp turn, the streets became a blur of lights, momentarily leaving the Mancini gang disoriented.

Amidst the chaos, pedestrians screamed and scattered, desperately trying to escape the line of fire. Innocent drivers in their cars honked frantically, swerving left and right in a panic, the terror of the situation evident on their faces.

I accessed my car”s advanced communication system, alerting my second-in-command and coordinating my escape.

Royalty Rentals was merely a fa?ade, a legitimate business I had carefully crafted to cover my true operations. Dealing with luxury cars was indeed a legitimate venture that had propelled me into billionaire status, yet it wasn’t where my true purpose lay.

My vehicles were more than luxurious. However, the general public remained blissfully unaware of this. The special vehicles with their hidden modifications were my private project, known only to a select few—my trusted men and a handful of workers who had proven their loyalty.

The pursuit intensified with the rival gang closing in. I could hear the engines roaring behind me, their menacing presence a reminder of the stakes at play. It was a game of power, a contest of wills, and I had no intention of losing.

Another hail of bullets erupted, the sharp staccato of gunfire shattering a shopfront window. The pursuit continued, the tension escalating with every passing moment.

I made a split-second decision, utilizing a hidden mechanism to deploy a smokescreen. Thick, billowing clouds enveloped the pursuing vehicles, obscuring their vision and buying me a few precious seconds.

I seized the opportunity to take an unexpected route, relying on the advanced GPS and the map displayed on the screen in my car.

Entering a concealed path hidden behind a seemingly innocuous storefront, known only to a select few, I traversed through the narrow back alley. With a few taps on the control panel, I activated the vehicle’s holographic feature.

This feature scans every vehicle within a 100-yard radius and temporarily produces a hologram of any vehicle of my choosing. This hologram replaces my car”s exterior with such realism no pursuer can tell the difference from any other car on the street.

The sleek sports car disappeared, replaced by a typical sedan with a different color and license plate. The lights dimmed, and any distinctive features disappeared, rendering the car unrecognizable. If my life weren’t at stake, I would be exhilarated to test my vehicle’s ability in the field.

I exited the hidden passage through another camouflaged front and slipped onto a narrow road that joined the traffic on a main street.

The transformation was complete. I was now driving just another vehicle on the busy city streets, lost in the sea of cars.

My pursuers, no longer able to identify me, were left bewildered and unable to continue the chase.

I activated the communication system within my car, contacting my right-hand man. ”Enzo, have you taken care of the CCTVs?” I inquired with urgency.

It wouldn”t do to have the police on my tail. The chaos caused by such a chase would already have caught their attention. Part of me wished for my pursuers to face the law if only to trouble them for a short while.

The Mancinis’ influence reached far enough to bury the incident in no time. However, I couldn”t afford the risk of exposure, given the highly sensitive technology that embodied my vehicle.

”Yes, Emilio,” came the reassuring response. ”All footage has been wiped. There won”t be any traces leading back to us.”

Satisfied, I navigated back to the Royalty Rentals facility, bypassing the multi-story car park. Instead, I approached a narrow, blocked lane known only to a select group of insiders. I stopped my car, where a blue light, emitted by specialized sensors discreetly embedded into the surrounding walls of the closed passageway, scanned my vehicle meticulously.

The advanced identification procedure ensured that specific markers embedded in my vehicle communicated with the security system, verifying its credentials before approving access.

After a moment, the barrier lifted, the passageway opening up into a vast, well-designed chamber.

The space was a testament to engineering and sophistication, a sanctuary for a fleet of high-performance vehicles just like the one I was driving—no small feat at 37.

I parked my car in a free spot and got out. Walking on the pristine floor with its polished surface that reflected the vehicles, I enjoyed the spacious feeling it gave the room. I parked my car in a free spot and got out.

Standing 6’3 with a powerful build, thick arms crossed in front of his chest in his typical calm demeanor, Enzo waited, ready to greet me. He raised an eyebrow at me, a gesture of both amusement and skepticism. ”You alright?” he inquired, concern evident in his voice.

”Of course,” I replied confidently, shooting a proud look at my resilient vehicle. They couldn”t lay a finger on it.

He rolled his eyes in a playful response, and I returned the gesture, a typical exchange between us.

Enzo was the embodiment of loyalty. He had been by my side since childhood, and we had forged a bond that ran deeper than blood. But besides his unwavering commitment, he also had a playful, mischievous side that added a lightness to our often serious dealings. Despite our differing professional roles and the responsibilities that came with each, our relationship was anything but rigid. We were best friends, and I trusted him more than I trusted my own brother.

”So, where are the Mancinis now?” I asked, curious about the outcome of the chase.

Returning to the station he had left, I joined him at his expansive computer network and noticed a screen displaying various angles of CCTV recordings with time and date stamps.

”Once they lost you, they backed off and vanished,” he explained, taking a seat.

”And what about the police?” I asked.

”They made a swift exit before the police arrived,” Enzo assured me.

”Any idea where they might have gone?” I questioned.

Enzo turned to me, arching an eyebrow. I adopted an innocent expression.

”Can”t I be curious about where my pursuers disappeared to?” I asked, feigning casual interest.

He wore an unimpressed expression.

”I thought you wanted to stay clear of the whole mafia entanglement,” Enzo noted, a hint of suspicion in his gray eyes.

I sighed, dropping the pretense.

”You know I do, but when they persistently come after me, I need to send a strong message to keep them at bay,” I confessed. ”I”m tired of getting dragged into these pointless situations. Besides the inconvenience and challenge of maintaining a regular work schedule, it’s become really taxing just knowing that an angry horde is out for my blood.”

The exhaustion in my voice betrayed my frustration. These relentless pursuits were taking a toll on my well-being and peace of mind.

Enzo looked at me with curiosity and concern. ”So, what”s your plan?” he inquired.

”I don”t know yet,” I admitted, feeling the weight of uncertainty.

Enzo scoffed, exasperated.

”And yet, you”re so eager to find out where they are,” he remarked, shaking his head.

Ignoring his comment, I asked once more, ”Do you know where they are?”

He sighed, giving in. ”They went to the club, the Red Serpent,” he finally revealed.