Episode 6

Meanwhile, Otavio was handling some urgent matters at the main office, as there was a scandal unfolding in one of the many businesses he oversaw. The Martini family commanded a vast empire, which, in addition to their legitimate endeavors, was bolstered by a slew of clandestine activities that proved quite lucrative.

Veronica, his secretary, then sauntered into the room with her usual flair. There was little doubt about her intentions; Otavio and Veronica often engaged in flirtatious banter. Today, she locked the door with a conspiratorial click and approached him, harboring aspirations that perhaps his affections might evolve into deeper commitment, an agenda driven by her opportunistic nature.

"Out with it, Veronica, what is it you want?" Otavio inquired rather impatiently, not oblivious to her games.

"Just looking out for you, boss. You seem stressed," she cooed, sidling around his desk with perhaps more suggestiveness than necessary, her attire a tad more revealing than office protocol would usually allow. She then proceeded with an intimate gesture, recalling their shared history of secret trysts and blurring lines.

After sharing a moment of personal distraction, Veronica readjusted her clothes, somewhat disheveled from the encounter, and posed a question born of hopeful ambition, "Otavio, my dear, are you really going to go through with the wedding? Can't you see that I am the right woman for you?"

Otavio, now taking a swig of whiskey and looking out the window, stifled a laugh at her remark, "Spare me the drama, Veronica. Let's not kid ourselves – we both know what this is. Do you think I'm unaware of your ulterior motives?"

"But Otavio, I love you, I truly do," she protested, feigning depth in her feelings.

"Enough! Leave now, Veronica. I have a wedding to attend to promptly," he dismissed her with a nonchalant wave. Veronica left in a huff, and Otavio chuckled to himself, well aware of her true character; she had been known to seek favor with many in positions of power within the company.

Left alone with his thoughts, Otavio's mind wandered to Bianca, whose image conjured feelings he struggled to articulate. He wrestled with an internal fury the prior evening, one that he nearly unleashed entirely were it not for her presence. Her tears stirred something in him, evoking a strong protective instinct, but his rage had prevailed. The mafia code he followed taught him never to act on such emotions.

Picking up the jewelry he had commissioned for the wedding - a tradition for brides within mafia families to receive - he returned home to prepare himself. In no time, he was dressed and ready to confront the day. Tradition notwithstanding, Otavio entered the room where Bianca was waiting alone. Her beauty caught him wholly off guard.

"Who's there?" Bianca's voice cut through his reverie.

Otavio stayed silent for a moment more, taking in her appearance, her sorrow palpable as she dabbed at tears he wished to wipe away. Finally, Bianca, always perceptive, recognized the woodsy aroma of Otavio's cologne, "Are you here to make sure I haven't fled?"

"Don't push me, girl. And how could you tell it was me?" he responded tersely.

"What do you want? Shouldn't we be getting this charade underway?" she asked, not masking the resentment in her voice.

He suppressed his impatience, pressing the diamonds he had meant for her sister into her hand. "These were meant for Laura, your sister. They're crafted with the finest diamonds," he stated, seeking a reaction that might reveal her true feelings.

"I want nothing from you. Give them to Laura when you find her," Bianca retorted defiantly.

"Remember your position, girl, and whose care your mother is in," he reminded her sternly, commanding her compliance.

Bianca reluctantly accepted the jewelry, her indifference to its splendor striking Otavio; most women he knew would clamor for such riches. Bianca's reaction left an odd impression on him.

After helping her with the adornments, noticing her involuntary shiver at his touch, he took a moment of satisfaction before sternly instructing, "Wait here. I'll have my mother come for you."

"I do have a name, you know," she shot back, still defiant. "No worry, I'll be right here, ready for the farce."

As he left, Otavio turned back with a final, intimidating whisper, threatening the boundaries of their forced intimacy, amused by her evident discomfort. Bianca, blushing and at a loss for words, reflected on her situation: bound in a loveless arrangement, far different from her sister's clandestine romantic escapades.