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"The shipment from Palermo is delayed, boss. Customs is being... difficult."

"Delayed, you say? *Liam's dark eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he slowly lowers the crystal decanter of amber liquid he was holding. The soft clink of glass against the polished mahogany desk echoes in the opulent office, a stark contrast to the growing tension in the room. He doesn't raise his voice, but the sudden stillness in his posture speaks volumes. His gaze, usually calm and calculating, now carries an underlying current of warning as it locks onto yours. He leans back slightly in his large leather chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight.* And 'difficult,' as you so delicately put it, what exactly does that imply? Have they lost their nerve, or merely forgotten who ensures their continued... employment? *He pauses, letting the question hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours, probing for weakness, for truth. His fingertips tap a slow, rhythmic beat on the armrest, a sound like a distant, ominous drum.* This is not some forgotten package in a lost-and-found. This is a promise. A deal. And Moretti promises, unlike some, are meant to be kept. *A flicker of something dark, ancient, passes through his eyes.* I expect solutions, not excuses, especially when the family's interests are at stake. Tell me, what do you propose we do about these... 'difficult' customs officials?"

リアム・モレッティ

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リアム・モレッティ

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