Dangerous Games

"Another?" Tatiana asked, already pouring two fingers of whiskey into his glass.

He grabbed it without acknowledging her, his empty eyes fixed on something beyond the bar. 

The atmosphere at Nocturne felt different tonight—tenser, heavier, as if the space itself sensed the fury radiating from the man who owned it.

After the failed operation that resulted in the loss of millions of dollars, Massimiliano had restricted entry to only trusted allies of the De Luca family for the time being. The usual mix of power players and wannabes had been replaced by a smaller crowd of grim-faced men who spoke in hushed tones.

Massimiliano looked like hell. His shoulders carried tension she hadn't seen before, the shadows under his eyes revealing sleepless nights 

"You seem tense," she said, observing his face as if his condition wasn't entirely caused by her.

His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not in the mood for her attitude. "Observant."

"Part of the job." She gestured toward the assortment of liquor behind her. "Want something stronger? You look like you've had one hell of a day."

"One hell of a day," he repeated, mind clearly elsewhere. "That's one way to describe losing a thirty-million-dollar shipment."

Tatiana kept her expression neutral despite the satisfaction unfurling in her chest. Her operation had gone better than expected, but showing even a hint of that pleasure would be suicide.

"That sounds like more than 'one hell of a day,'" she replied, wiping down the bar. "Sounds like a disaster."

"It was." He finally took a sip of whiskey, gaze never leaving her face. "Someone intercepted a significant shipment. Destroyed most of it. Professional job."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She maintained eye contact, her expression was careful, only conveying an appropriate amount of concern without excessive interest. "Must be difficult in your...industry."

"Impossible," he corrected sharply. "Unless someone had inside information. A mole."

The accusation hung between them, loaded with implication. Tatiana recognized the bait—he was presenting vulnerability to observe her reaction, fishing for information while appearing to provide it. 

As expected of him.

She raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Inside your organization? That seems..." She trailed off, deliberately creating space for him to elaborate.

"Seems what?" The challenge was immediate, tension radiating from him.

"Risky," she finished carefully. "Sounds like someone with a death wish."

"Yeah." He rolled the glass between his palms. "Whoever did this either has tremendous confidence or is tired of living. Neither option reassures me."

Tatiana calculated her next move. Disinterest would seem suspicious after his disclosure but excessive curiosity would trigger warning signals. 

She needed balance.

"Any leads on who it might be?" she asked, voice lowered as she leaned slightly closer.

His eyes flicked to her face, studying her intensely. "Why do you care?"

"Since you're sharing." She shrugged, keeping her tone light.

"Sharing? Is that what I'm doing?" Something almost resembling amusement touched his eyes despite the hardness of his expression.

"Testing is more accurate," she countered without hesitation. "Seeing if I know more than I should. I don't, by the way. But I'm not blind to what happens here."

"You understood the danger but you're still willing to work at a place like this…surrounded by men like me," he observed, swirling his whiskey thoughtfully.

"The tips are excellent." She said with a smile. "Plus, Franco hired me specifically because I'm not easily intimidated. Places like this need staff who can handle... complications."

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and she found herself smiling back—a genuine reaction she hadn't anticipated. 

His posture relaxed slightly, the first break in his rigid tension all night. He seemed almost grateful for a calm conversation instead of their usual verbal sparring.

He let out a heavy sigh before indulging her in the details. "No concrete suspects yet. Several possibilities, all unsatisfying. The operation was too sophisticated for standard competitors."

And that was the opening she needed. A chance to redirect suspicion while demonstrating loyalty. 

She hesitated visibly, trying to create the impression of internal debate. "I might have heard something," she offered reluctantly, glancing around to ensure privacy. "Not sure if it's related, but..."

He paused mid sip, his eyes focused on her from above the rim of the glass. "Go on."

"That group from the Vittori crew that comes in on Thursdays? Last week I heard that they were talking about some large-scale distribution plan. I overheard that they were expecting extra supplies coming in mid-May." She maintained eye contact, expression suggesting concern rather than eagerness to inform. "I'm not sure if it might be related to your case, since I'm not sure if you guys are even referring to the same type of shipment. But you should verify before acting on anything I say."

The information that she fed him was perfect. It wasn't entirely fabricated. The Vittori crew did have extra shipments coming in, and delivering it with just a touch of caution is the icing on top. The only difference is that she didn't obtain that information from her bartending activities but rather from the intel of her own men.

His eyes narrowed as he processed this information, both suspicion and interest visible on his face. "Why tell me this? Why now?"

"Because you're upset enough to do something stupid," she answered bluntly. "Like suspecting innocent employees based on proximity rather than evidence. Self-preservation, basically."

The explanation apparently satisfied him. Massimiliano nodded slightly, his tense shoulder relaxed slightly as he pulled out his phone and began typing.

"The Vittoris," he murmured, almost to himself. "Unexpected but not implausible."

Tatiana allowed herself a small measure of satisfaction. The misdirection would occupy De Luca resources, create friction with potential allies, and divert attention from her. It was the perfect strategic redirection.

She moved away to serve another customer, making mental note to temporarily suspend surveillance operations at Nocturne For at least a few weeks.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Massimiliano's phone lighting up, and his shoulders immediately stiffened as he answered.

"Yes?" His tone carried controlled irritation barely contained beneath surface professionalism.

Tatiana couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but Massimiliano's expression darkened with each passing second. His jaw tightened, knuckles whitening around his phone.

"I'm handling it, dad," he snapped. "The investigation is progressing."

Another pause as the caller apparently delivered unwelcome commentary.

"My methods remain my concern," he countered, voice lowered but intensity increased. "Perhaps focus on your responsibilities while I address mine."

He ended the call abruptly, expression thunderous as he moved to a booth in the corner. Tatiana watched him knock back the rest of his whiskey in one swallow, his composure fracturing in a way she'd never witnessed before.

She grabbed a glass of water and approached his booth, placing it in front of him before sliding into the empty space beside him. "Drink this. I don't want to be cleaning up your mess if you puke all over my bar."

"My bar," he corrected automatically.

She nodded at his correction. "Family issues?" She asked unprompted.

"My father believes I'm wasting time here," he admitted, gesturing vaguely around Nocturne. "That I should be focusing exclusively on our recent... business complications."

"That must be hard," she said quietly as she turned her gaze towards the window, her eyes following the distant glow of the city lights. "Everyone thinks power makes life easier, but all it really does is put a target on your back."

Her mind drifted off to her own father and how Alessandro Moretti had carried similar burdens. Had Lorenzo not murdered him, she might be in a position similar to Massimiliano right now—inheriting both privilege and pressure, struggling to maintain the delicate balance of respect and fear that kept their world functioning.

She let out a soft sigh before glancing back at him. Her voice came out softer than her usual biting tone. "I can't imagine what it's like trying to hold everything together while the people closest to you expect you to be unshakable. Must feel like there's no room to just...breathe."

He held her gaze for a moment and immediately noticed a flash of understanding on her face, the type that only comes from first hand experience.

Massimiliano swirled the untouched water, his thoughts drifting to the women who'd moved through his life. Models, socialites, daughters of business associates; they were all drawn to the fantasy rather than the reality of his world. 

They saw the money, the power, the dangerous allure, but none understood the weight he carried. They wanted the benefits without comprehending the cost, chasing some fairy tale about the brutal man with a heart of gold. All of them thought they were special enough to tame him, to be the exception.

But Tatiana was different.

She didn't romanticize his world or his position in it. There was no illusion, no projection of who she wanted him to be. She saw him clearly, both the power and the prison it created. She didn't want to unlock the cage; she understood why the door stayed locked.

Massimiliano leaned forward slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing along her jawline with unexpected gentleness. 

When his lips finally found hers, the kiss wasn't possessive or demanding like before. It was softer and appreciative—a lover's kiss.

Tatiana didn't pull away immediately, caught off guard by the gentle nature of the contact. Her lips softened under his for several heartbeats before she remembered who they were, who she was, and why she was here.

She broke the kiss, not harshly but with firm intention. "Bar's closing soon. I need to finish up." She nodded toward the water glass he hadn't touched. "Drink that. It'll help."

A conflicted look settled on his face before he nodded, allowing her to leave without complications. 

As she walked back to the bar, Tatiana tried to convince herself that allowing the kiss would only make him trust her more.

A tactical advantage, nothing more.

A warm, soft and dangerously tempting tactical advantage.