From Mr. Nobody to Mr. Perfect!

Chapter 2

Leon's phone vibrated. Thirty seconds had passed since his call to Marcus.

"Sir, I have the information." Marcus's voice was crisp. "It's the Rossi family—a C-tier clan. They pulled their investment from the Quinn partnership three days ago."

"Details."

"Antonio Rossi withdrew fifty million at the worst possible moment. The Quinns needed that money for their factory expansion. Without it, they can't pay suppliers or workers."

Leon's fingers tightened around the phone. "Why?"

"His son—Dante Rossi. He's been obsessed with Mrs. Quinn for months. He told Antonio to squeeze the family until she... agrees to meet him."

"Where?"

"Tomorrow evening. His private suite at the Venetian Hotel. Room 1408."

A cold smile touched Leon's lips. "Interesting."

"Sir, Dante specifically said Mrs. Quinn must come alone if she wants the partnership restored."

"I see." Leon's voice could freeze blood. "Send the car."

"It's already outside, sir."

Leon ended the call and walked out. A black Bentley idled at the curb, engine purring. The driver nodded as Leon slid into the back seat.

"Rossi Group headquarters," Leon commanded.

"Yes, sir. Estimated arrival in twelve minutes."

The city lights blurred past as they drove. Leon's face remained calm, but his eyes held storms.

The Rossi building loomed ahead—thirty floors of glass and steel. The Bentley stopped at the main entrance.

"Wait here," Leon told the driver.

Two security guards blocked his path. "Building's closed. Come back tomorrow."

"Move."

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you think you are—"

Eight men in black suits materialized from the shadows. The guards didn't even have time to reach for their radios before they were on the ground, subdued and silent.

Leon stepped over them. "Which floor is Dante Rossi's office?"

One guard wheezed, "Twenty... twenty-eighth."

"Thank you."

The private elevator opened with his approach—his men had already handled the security systems. Twenty-eighth floor. The doors parted to reveal an opulent hallway.

Leon walked to the corner office. Gold letters spelled out: DANTE ROSSI - EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENT.

He kicked the door open.

The mahogany door slammed against the wall with a crash that shook the paintings.

"What the hell—"

Dante Rossi scrambled off the leather couch, frantically pulling up his pants. A woman shrieked, grabbing her dress to cover herself.

"Who the fuck are you?" Dante's face twisted with rage. "You know whose office this is? I'll have you killed!"

Leon strolled in, hands in his pockets. "You must be Dante Rossi."

"Damn right I am! And you're a dead man!" Dante's Italian accent thickened with anger. "Security! SECURITY!"

"They're taking a nap." Leon examined a crystal paperweight on the desk. "Nice office. Shame you won't be using it much longer."

The woman fled, stumbling in her heels.

"You think you can just walk in here?" Dante grabbed a golf club from the corner. "I own this city! My family controls half the businesses!"

"Really?" Leon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me, are you the one targeting the Quinn family?"

Dante laughed—an ugly, barking sound. "The Quinns? Those pathetic D-tier nobodies?" He swung the club through the air. "Yeah, I'm squeezing them dry. So what?"

"Why?"

"Why?" Dante's eyes gleamed with lust. "Have you seen Mia Quinn? That body... those lips... She thinks she's too good for me. But when her family's begging on the streets, she'll come crawling."

Leon's expression remained perfectly calm. "I see."

"Tomorrow night, she'll be in my bed. And there's nothing—NOTHING—you can do about it!"

"You have two choices." Leon's voice was quiet, conversational. "One—immediately restore full cooperation with the Quinn family. Then kneel and apologize for your actions."

Dante stared, then burst into hysterical laughter. "Kneel? KNEEL? You're insane!"

"Two—watch the Rossi empire crumble within the hour."

"You... you think you can threaten ME?" Dante's face turned purple. "My family has connections everywhere! Judges, police, politicians! We're untouchable!"

Leon pulled out his phone. "Marcus. Begin."

"Yes, sir."

"Begin what?" Dante sneered. "Making prank calls?"

Leon set the phone on speaker and placed it on the desk.

"You're nobody!" Dante raised the golf club. "Just another piece of trash who—"

He swung.

Leon moved like water. His hand shot out, catching the club mid-swing. With a casual twist, he snapped it in half.

"Impossible—"

Leon's palm struck Dante's chest. The heir flew backward, crashing into his executive chair.

"You... you barely touched me..." Dante wheezed, struggling to breathe.

"That was a love tap." Leon straightened his cuffs. "Would you like to try again?"

"I'll destroy you!" Dante fumbled for his phone. "I'll call every connection! You'll beg for death before I'm done!"

"Please do."

Dante's phone rang before he could dial. The name GIOVANNI BERLUSCONI flashed on the screen—one of Rossi Group's biggest clients.

"Mr. Berlusconi!" Dante answered desperately. "Perfect timing! I need you to—"

"SHUT UP!" The voice boomed through the speaker. "You stupid, arrogant fool!"

Dante's face went white. "Sir?"

"Do you know what you've done? WHO you've offended?"

"I don't understand—"

"The Berlusconi family is terminating all contracts with Rossi Group. Effective immediately."

"What? No! We have a fifty-year partnership!"

"HAD. Past tense. Because of your stupidity, it's over."

"Mr. Berlusconi, please! This is a misunderstanding!"

"Misunderstanding?" The man's voice dripped contempt. "You targeted someone under HIS protection. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

"Who? WHO?" Dante looked wildly at Leon.

"Pray you never find out. Our partnership ends here."

The line went dead.

Dante's phone immediately rang again. Another client. Then another. And another.

"Meridian Industries is withdrawing..."

"Salvatore Shipping will no longer..."

"The Conti Corporation cannot continue..."

Each call was the same. Fury. Termination. The promise of lawsuits.

Dante's hands shook as the fifth call ended. "This... this is impossible. You can't... in five minutes..."

"That was four minutes." Leon checked his watch. "You still have fifty-six minutes left."

"Who ARE you?"

Leon walked to the window, gazing at the city lights below. "Someone who doesn't appreciate people making his wife cry."

"Your... your wife?" The blood drained from Dante's face. "Mia Quinn is..."

"Mine."

The word hung in the air like a blade.

Dante's phone rang again. This time, the screen showed FATHER.

With trembling fingers, he answered.

"DANTE!" Antonio Rossi's roar could be heard across the room. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Papa, I—"

"Our stock is crashing! Every major partner is pulling out! Twenty years of contracts—GONE!"

"It's not my fault! This man—"

"FIX THIS! NOW! Or I'll throw you out of the family myself!"

The call ended.