The Game Begins

Nightfall draped itself over Lorenzo's villa as he finally returned, exhaustion clinging to him like a shroud. Stepping through the grand entrance, his ever-present butler, materialized with a bow.

"Welcome back, young master," He greeted, his voice a smooth baritone. "I trust your outing was eventful? The maids have prepared a bath for you." A hint of inquiry flickered in his dark eyes. 

Lorenzo, yearning for a steaming bath and a night of uninterrupted sleep, managed a tired nod. "Thank you, Antonio," he rasped, shrugging off his tailored coat and flinging it carelessly onto a nearby armchair. With a sigh that spoke volumes, he loosened his tie, the silk whispering against his collar. "Those tiresome cousins of mine," he muttered, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Are the ladies still here?"

"No, young master," Antonio replied with a knowing smile. "They departed quite some time ago."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Lorenzo's face, quickly masked by a playful pout. "What a pity," he sighed, as the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of melodrama. "I was looking forward to a touch of amusement this evening." 

Family duties, of course, came first – the Selvaggio motto, 'Family above all,' echoed in his mind. "Perhaps another time, then," he conceded with a self-assured smirk as he ascended the grand staircase, Antonio gliding silently in his wake.

Reaching his bedroom, Lorenzo cast aside his suit with the air of a weary warrior discarding his armor. His golden eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a faint weariness in the dim light. He turned to Antonio, a glint of amusement returning to his gaze.

"A task for you, dear Antonio," he announced with a wink, a hint of his usual playful demeanor peeking through.

Antonio inclined his head in a silent acknowledgement. "As you command, young master." 

"Contact Riccardo," Lorenzo instructed, a sly smile dancing on his lips. "Tell him I require every detail on a man named Benito Raffaelle – his whereabouts, his associates, his business dealings… everything. Arrange a meeting at our usual haunt for eight o'clock sharp once he has this information." 

Antonio bowed once more. "Yes, master," he confirmed, his voice devoid of surprise. Turning with silent efficiency, he exited the room.

After that, Lorenzo shed his remaining clothes and headed into his bathroom. Stepping into the steaming embrace of the bathtub, he sank down with a contented sigh. The hot water soothed his aching muscles, leaving him feeling pleasantly adrift. Only his upper torso remained above the surface, creating the illusion of a mythical being at rest. 

With a flourish, he untied his silver hair, allowing it to cascade down his back in a shimmering waterfall. His golden eyes, even more prominent against the stark white of the bathroom tiles, gleamed with an enigmatic light.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the tub's rim, a picture of languid relaxation. "Who is this mysterious anonymous artist..? I wonder," he murmured to himself, a hint of intrigue coloring his voice. "I hope it's a truly fiery signorina." A smile played on his lips as he let his mind drift.

***

The morning sun, a golden caress, bathed Achille's villa in a warm glow. Birdsong filled the air, a joyous melody that danced through the open windows. A flurry of activity filled the grand foyer as Giovanni and Giovanna, their laughter echoing through the halls, raced down the stairs, their mother Valentina trailing behind with a touch of exasperation. 

"Slowly, slowly, my dears!" Valentina called after them, her voice laced with amusement. "Please, don't run down the stairs like that! You'll make me ill with all this running!" 

"Okay, mamma!" Giovanni and Giovanna chorused in unison, their voices filled with childish glee. They burst through the front doors, their small legs pumping furiously as they raced towards the waiting car. Valentina watched them go, a tender smile gracing her lips. 

As the children disappeared from sight, she turned to Achille, who was seated on a plush armchair in the living room. "They seem so excited about going back to school again..." he remarked, his voice thoughtful. 

A weary sigh escaped Valentina's lips. Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows, casting a mosaic of light and shadow across the room. 

"Just a few months ago," Achille murmured, his voice tinged with concern, "they wouldn't dream of setting foot near their school. Something must have transpired to ignite this sudden enthusiasm." 

Valentina's brow furrowed in a worried frown. A flicker of something dark – perhaps a memory, perhaps a fear – danced in her golden eyes. "Perhaps," she murmured, the single word heavy with unspoken anxieties.

 "Perhaps that incident rattled them..." Her voice trailed off, a silent acknowledgment of the burden their children carried – The weight of a father's mysterious disappearance. A single tear, a glistening pearl, traced a path down her cheek, but she swiftly brushed it away. 

Achille reached out, his hand hovering over hers for a moment before settling gently on the armrest. "Don't worry, sorella," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. " My men are still searching for him." 

Valentina straightened, a steely glint returning to her eyes. "He didn't run away, I know that for certain." she declared with unwavering conviction. " And he would never abandon his family like that. That's not who he his, you know that as well. He'll come back. So tell your men to stop the searches."

Achille sighed and let go of her hand and said, 

"When he eventually comes back, if he ever comes back. He had better have a good excuse for disappearing or else I might not be able to stop my self from killing him." His eyes glowing dangerously as he crossed his arms.

Valentina's eyebrows furrowed slightly as she replied, " Don't touch him, the final decision on how to deal with him is mine to make. Even though you're the underboss you're still my baby fratello, and this is my family matter. " 

The glow in his eyes faded as his clicked his tongue and looked away. 

" Alright then, I will be off, " she said and with that, she walked out of the villa , her black silk dress whispering against her legs. Outside, the familiar comfort of her waiting car beckoned. A quick glance revealed Giovanni and Giovanna, their faces alight with childish excitement, bouncing impatiently beside the vehicle. 

"Ready to go?" Valentina asked, her voice softening as she addressed her children. 

"Yes, Mamma!" they chorused in unison, their joy a melody that chased away the sadness that had momentarily clouded Valentina's face. With a gentle smile, she slid behind the wheel, the engine purring to life as she pulled away from the villa.

**Meanwhile, at Lorenzo's villa...**

The rising sun cast a golden glow across Lorenzo's bedroom as he meticulously adjusted his tie in the mirror. His movements were precise, practiced, a reflection of the privileged life he led. A persistent buzzing sound emanated from his phone, a melody he knew all too well. It was the same every morning, a harbinger of the inevitable.

He sighed, a sound laced with feigned weariness, and ignored the call. However, the insistent notification for a voicemail chimed, tempting him to listen. With a reluctant shrug, he picked up the phone and pressed play.

His mother's voice, a mixture of frustration and affection, filled the room. "Caro mio donnaiolo," she cooed, the endearment dripping with exasperation. "how are you? I hope you've finally changed your mind and realized that life isn't just about having fun with my money without starting a business or at least joining the mafia." 

Lorenzo rolled his eyes, on the verge of deleting the message when his mother continued. "By the way," she added, her voice laced with a hint of mischief, "I'll be back soon to see you. So you better have something worthwhile to do." 

The message ended with a click, leaving Lorenzo staring at the phone with a grimace. "Fantastico," he muttered under his breath, the Italian word dripping with sarcasm. "Just what I needed." 

He finished his preparations, and with a final flourish, secured his silver hair into a sleek ponytail. His golden eyes, catching the morning sun like molten amber, stared back at him from the mirror. A smirk played on his lips, a silent challenge to the reflection staring back. He had no intention of succumbing to his mother's wishes and abandoning his carefree lifestyle. He had his own path, his own game to play, and he wouldn't let anyone dictate his moves. 

A sharp rap on the door shattered the peaceful image. "Come in!" Lorenzo called out. 

The door creaked open, and Antonio, glided into the room. "Good morning, young master," he announced with a respectful bow. "Breakfast is ready." 

"Thank you, Antonio," Lorenzo replied with a curt nod. 

Antonio cleared his throat. "In addition, young master," he continued, "a letter arrived from Riccardo this morning."

He extended a hand, presenting a crisp, creamy envelope addressed to Lorenzo in elegant cursive. Lorenzo took it with a raised eyebrow, a sardonic smile hinting at his amusement. "Fast as always, our dear Riccardo," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. 

With practiced ease, he tore open the envelope and scanned the contents. A flicker of intrigue crossed his features. "Seems like there's some work to be done after breakfast," he announced, neatly folding the letter and tucking it into his pocket. 

Antonio, his face devoid of surprise, offered a knowing smile. "Certainly, young master," he confirmed. " I'll see to preparing the car." 

 With a curt nod, Lorenzo exited the room, Antonio following silently in his wake. With a curt nod, Lorenzo walked over to his bedside table and picked up his finely crafted spectacles, slipping them on with a practiced elegance. He then exited the room, Antonio following silently in his wake.