How Lilies turn Black Chapter 69 - Legal Illegality (10)

What’s so hard about taking her if he really wanted to?

 

He knew he could do it anytime. He was well aware of dozens of ways to make moans instead of screams spill from her lips right now.

 

But yes—slow conquest.

 

To Silvano, that mattered more than anything else.

 

“Where’s the fun in tasting it all at once?”

 

It wasn’t time yet. He still had to watch a little longer. She wasn’t particularly outstanding, but her innate guts had intrigued him from the start. 

 

The way she spoke her mind while still being cautious around Theo was also interesting. She seemed to act without thinking, yet her actions weren’t reckless. 

 

Instead, they flowed with clear purpose and planning… and in the end, she always reached her goal.

 

“All of that—it’s just so entertaining to watch.”

 

Silvano was curious to see how far Lilia could go. So, slowly… savoring her bit by bit, he’d devour her.

 

Before he knew it, she had prepared ointment for him, along with gauze and medical tape for his face. 

 

Holding a cotton swab dabbed with ointment, she turned toward him.

 

The moment their eyes locked, Lilia’s shoulders flinched and stiffened. He had to give her credit—her instincts for sensing something suspicious were sharp.

 

“Why… are you looking at me like that?”

 

“No reason. Your back is pretty too.”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lilia made a face as if she’d bitten into a rotten fruit.

 

From his perspective, even this was an amusing sight. Silvano leisurely curled his lips into a smile and yanked her arm closer.

 

“Hurry up and do it.”

 

💫

 

Click. Click—

 

The scene was an old-fashioned drawing room where firewood quietly crackled in the fireplace.

Theodoro sat on a glossy burgundy leather sofa, while across from him, Tony Scaletta, the boss of the Albano family, leisurely savored a cigar in a single-seater sofa. 

 

The two occasionally raised their glasses to wet their throats, neither showing any eagerness to break the silence first.

 

Though Theodoro was the one who had come to make a ‘request,’ he looked completely at ease, his gaze fixed only on the still-life painting above the fireplace. 

 

Eventually, after a long pause, it was Tony who spoke first.

 

“So.”

“…”

 

“Did you come here to warn me before tearing this place apart like the other districts? Or are you just here to announce that you’re about to make a mess?”

 

For someone who had remained silent until now, his first words carried unmistakable hostility and resentment. It was hard to imagine how he had kept such emotions bottled up for so long.

 

Theodoro, on the other hand, remained unshaken, his composure unwavering. 

 

More accurately, he maintained an indifferent demeanor, as if he hadn’t heard anything worth reacting to.

 

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the painting and slowly turned his head toward Tony.

 

“…So, would you prefer if I made a mess without warning? I’m giving you a chance here.”

 

“A chance? What kind of condescending talk is that… Do you think we’re some lowly underlings of the Benedettis?”

 

“Then let me rephrase. A proposal.”

 

Without missing a beat, Theodoro smoothly countered, leaving Tony momentarily at a loss for words. 

 

Theodoro studied him silently before continuing, “I asked for cooperation. I suggested that the bookmakers use our services. The capos had a choice—either accept my proposal and let the bookmakers sign contracts with our company… or ignore it and leave them to use Inter Press’s broadcasting services.”

 

“…”

 

“Don Pacini and Don Marcello chose the latter. And as for the merchants who ignored the offer, they said I could handle it my way. Tony, do I look like the kind of guy who stirs up trouble in someone else’s territory without thinking ahead?”

“…I get it.”

 

Tony, now understanding the situation, raised a hand as if to tell him to stop. 

 

Just listening seemed to drain him—he looked even more exhausted than Theodoro, who usually wandered around with dark circles under his eyes.

 

Tony weakly swirled his glass of alcohol, lost in thought for a moment. Then, after a while, he spoke in a much calmer voice than before.

“So… you’re offering us the same deal?”

 

“Nothing bad would come of it for the Albano family. Compared to Inter Press, which stuffs every last bit of profit into their own pockets, we’re the more… conscientious option.”

“Conscience? Did you just say conscience?”

 

Theodoro pulled out a stack of papers from a thin briefcase neatly placed beside the sofa and handed them over. 

 

They were documents outlining the profits the Benedetti family would allocate if Tony cooperated.

“You won’t lose out.”

“Hmm…”

 

Tony flipped through the papers, then pressed his temples as if a headache was coming on. 

 

After a moment, he set the documents down on the low table and leaned his head back against the sofa with a thud.

 

His eyes, staring up at the ceiling, were filled with complicated emotions. It was no wonder his mind was in turmoil.

 

Profits… Yeah, money’s good. Why would anyone refuse? 

 

If he just let Theodoro do his thing, the cash would roll in on its own. But that was exactly the problem. 

 

Sitting back and gobbling up the money he was being spoon-fed? 

 

Theodoro had framed it as cooperation, but Tony wasn’t stupid—he knew it would practically mean clinging to the Benedetti family’s coattails.

 

He let out a deep sigh and muttered,

“So Don Pacini and Don Marcello cooperated too…”

“Very willingly,” Theodoro replied.

 

Theodoro answered with an almost shameless boldness. 

 

Yet, it wasn’t entirely wrong—they had swallowed their pride and accepted the proposal without much resistance. Even if they refused to cooperate this time, they knew all too well that Benedetti held the upper hand.

 

But instead of admitting that outright, Tony seemed eager to pass this difficult choice onto the remaining family.

“So, the ones who haven’t decided yet are me and the Corellas, huh?”

“Well, yeah… sort of.”

Theodoro wet his lips with liquor and trailed off meaningfully.

 

Tony was too preoccupied thinking about what decision the Corella family would make to notice, but… Theodoro had a reason for that strange look on his face.

 

The fact that only the Albanos and the Corellas were left—that order had been deliberately arranged.

 

Tony Scaletta. He had been close friends with Gasparo Corella, the boss of the Corella family, since childhood.

As teenagers, they had joined the Cross Point gang together, roaming the filthy back alleys of Demercy. After a turbulent youth, they now stood side by side at the top of the underworld. It was a well-known story among those familiar with the streets.

 

So, Theodoro had sought out Tony a third for a reason—to pressure Gasparo psychologically.

If the capos began cooperating with Benedetti one by one… and even Tony, Gasparo’s old friend, eventually shook hands with Benedetti, how would Gasparo feel? 

 

The noose would tighten around him, bit by bit.

 

Of course, Theodoro had no intention of mentioning this outright. He had a different, far more interesting story to share with Tony.

“Speaking of which, now that we’re on the subject…”

“Hm?”

“How’s Gasparo Corella been doing lately?”

 

Tony’s eyebrows twitched like rippling waves at the sudden shift in topic.

 

“Well enough, I suppose. What’s your point?”

 

“‘Well enough,’ huh? So, his love life’s been going smoothly? Heard he’s been trying something new.”

 

“Something… new?”

 

His frown deepened, as if questioning the absurdity of the statement. But Theodoro simply downed his drink and replied nonchalantly.

 

“For someone with such a colorful history with women, his been seeing a man lately.”

 

“A man? What kind of nonsense—”

 

“Jimmy McKenna. Rumor has it they’re inseparable.”

 

“…!”

 

Tony’s eyes bulged as if they might pop out any second. 

 

Gripping the armrest, he leaned forward, looking ready to bolt up from the couch.

 

After decades in this world, he knew exactly what those words implied. But the idea of Gasparo actually dating Jimmy McKenna—

 

Tony stammered in disbelief.

 

“Where… where’d you hear that? How’d you even—? There’s no way I’d…”

 

“Too bad. Money talks, they say. Even loyalty and friendship can’t stand against it.”

 

“…Is this confirmed? Are you sure this intel’s reliable? Gasparo, of all people—”

 

Theodoro shrugged indifferently.

 

“Truth’s up to you to decide now.”

 

With that, he rose from the couch. His message had been delivered.

 

As he adjusted his clothes, Tony still sat frozen in shock. He looked lost, but once that confusion cleared… he’d have no choice but to side with Benedetti.

 

Something between a smirk and a sneer flickered across Theodoro’s face. Picking up his briefcase, he left one last curt remark.

 

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

 

Not that he’d have to wait long.

 

And just like that, Theodoro walked out of Tony’s mansion, leaving behind the bomb he’d dropped—without so much as a glance back.