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"Arben," I respond, voice deliberately light. "I see you've forgotten your manners. Along with your payment schedule."

That gets his attention.

He shifts in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him. "Business has been... complicated. Supply chain issues—"

"Save the excuses for someone who gives a fuck," I cut him off, nodding to Alessio, who moves to pull out a chair for Bianca—directly to my right, facing Arben. "You're two hundred thousand short. For the third time."

Arben's eyes narrow. His lieutenants shift their stance, hands moving subtly toward concealed weapons. Bianca notices the movement and I see the slight widening of her eyes, the way her spine straightens in response.

"Sit down," I tell her, my voice gentle but carrying enough authority that she obeys without hesitation.

Only then do I take my seat, unbuttoning my suit jacket. The Glock holstered beneath my arm is visible for a moment—a deliberate flash of steel to remind everyone in the room what I'm capable of.

"Now," I continue, leaning forward, elbows on the table, "let's discuss how you're going to make this right."

Arben smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Perhaps we need to renegotiate our arrangement, Luca. Times are changing. Your father's health... the succession still unclear... new players entering the market..."

He trails off, the threat implicit. He thinks Vito's illness has weakened us. He thinks the Ravelli empire is vulnerable.

He's about to learn how fucking wrong he is.

"Interesting perspective," I reply, my voice dropping to that register that makes hardened criminals flinch. "Here's mine: You've failed to deliver on our agreement for the third time. You're expanding into territory that isn't yours. And now you sit in my chair, trying to renegotiate terms we settled in blood."

I reach into my jacket, and every one of Arben's men tenses. What I withdraw isn't a weapon, but a folded document, which I slide across the table.

"Your debt. Itemized. With interest."

Arben doesn't touch the paper. "And if I can't pay? What then, Luca? You'll send Dante to break more of my men? Cut off more fingers? These old tactics—"

"No," I interrupt, my voice soft but carrying. "Not Dante.Me."

The room goes very still. Even Bianca feels the shift in the air, the way Arben's men exchange nervous glances.

Because everyone knows: Dante is the Ravelli who enjoys violence. I'm the one who uses it like a surgeon uses a scalpel. Precise… purposeful… and fuckingfinal.

Arben tries to laugh it off. "Come now, Luca. We're businessmen. Surely we can find an arrangement that—"

I grab Arben's wrist, slamming it down on the table with enough force to rattle the crystal glasses. With my other hand, I withdraw a thin blade from my sleeve—the one I keep for moments like this.

My hands just moved faster than his guards even reacted, and now, I have complete power.

"You misunderstand," I say, voice shaky but terrifyingly calm as I press the tip of the blade to his palm. "This isn't a negotiation, Arben."

Bianca watches, frozen, as I draw the blade across Arben's skin, opening a clean line that wells instantly with blood. He hisses, trying to jerk his hand away, but my grip is iron.

"Two days," I tell him, watching his blood pool on the polished wood. "Two hundred thousand. Plus fifty for the inconvenience of making me drag my beautiful wife down here to have to watch this instead of a West End show."

I release his wrist, and he cradles it against his chest, fury and fear warring in his eyes. His men have drawn their weapons, but Alessio and my security detail have them outmatched.

The balance of power has been made crystal fucking clear.

"And Arben?" I add, wiping my blade clean on a handkerchief. "Stay out of Kensington. The next time you step on Ravelli territory without an invitation, I won't stop at slicing your fucking hand open."

I stand, buttoning my jacket and throw the handkerchief in his face.

"Gentleman," I nod to his lieutenants, who slowly lower their weapons. "Always a pleasure." My attention returns to Arben, who glares up at me with naked hatred. "The debt will be settled in full. Or next time, I slit your throat instead."

I hold out my hand to Bianca, who takes it without hesitation. Her palm is hot and sweaty against mine, but there's no tremor in her touch. No fear in her eyes as I lead her back toward the elevator.