Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask (by Silver Spoon) novel Chapter 380

Chapter 380: Chapter 164 Missing Phone Trap

Vincenzo’s POV

School had become increasingly demanding lately, especially with our literature professor assigning obscure texts that seemed nearly impossible to locate. I had spent days calling every bookstore in the city until I finally tracked down the last copy at a mall across town. With the professor’s warned examination approaching, I couldn’t risk failing, so I made the long trip to secure that elusive volume.

Since I was already at the upscale shopping center, I decided to browse around after purchasing my book. I headed straight to the bookstore first, even though I had reserved the copy, years of living in a family where trust was earned through verification had taught me to never assume anything was secure until it was physically in my hands. With the book safely tucked in my leather messenger bag, I strolled through the elegant food court when I spotted a familiar face. Aunt Willow was sitting at an expensive café, engaged in conversation with someone.

"Aunt Willow! What an unexpected pleasure!" I approached their table, immediately noticing she was with a younger woman who, despite being conventionally attractive, had something calculating about her demeanor that set off my instincts.

"Vincenzo, darling!" Aunt Willow rose gracefully from her seat to embrace me, her designer jewelry catching the light. "What brings you so far from the family district?"

"Had to hunt down this academic text. Could only find it here," I explained, holding up my shopping bag as evidence while discretely scanning the woman across from her.

"Well, join us for espresso! Let me introduce you, this is Nancy. Nancy, this is Vincenzo, my nephew."

I acknowledged the woman with practiced politeness, though she scrutinized my face with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Her smile seemed rehearsed, reminding me of the social climbers who frequented family gatherings, pretending friendship while calculating their next move.

"I wouldn’t want to intrude on your business discussion, Aunt," I said carefully, sensing the undercurrent of tension.

"Nonsense! Please, sit down," Aunt Willow insisted, practically guiding me into the chair beside her with the kind of insistence that brooked no argument.

After ordering an espresso, I asked, "So what brings you both to this part of the city? Taking a break from family obligations?"

"I’ve concluded my appointments for the day," Aunt Willow explained with her usual elegance. "I promised to assist Nancy in securing a new position. Thanks to your mother’s recommendation, she has an interview at your father’s legitimate enterprise tomorrow."

Nancy continued staring at me with that artificial expression. Between that and what were obviously enhanced assets straining against her low-cut blouse, everything about her radiated deception.

"That sounds promising," I replied diplomatically, though I couldn’t help thinking if my mother had witnessed how Nancy presented herself, she might have reconsidered facilitating the introduction. "Which position are you seeking?"

"Executive assistant. Your father will conduct the interview personally," Aunt Willow said with enthusiasm, while Nancy herself seemed strangely detached from the conversation.

"Do you truly need this position, Nancy?" I asked directly, my family’s training in reading people making me suspicious of her odd behavior.

She immediately shifted into a pitiful tone that instantly activated every warning bell in my head. "Oh yes, desperately. I care for my aging father since his retirement, and I lost my previous position when my employer, a private practice physician, passed away unexpectedly."

Something wasn’t calculating correctly. My father often shared stories about legitimate job candidates who genuinely needed employment to support their families. Their desperation was authentic, their gratitude sincere. But Nancy was carrying what appeared to be a brand new designer handbag and wearing an expensive timepiece that contradicted her sob story entirely.

"That does sound challenging," I said, formulating a strategy. "Listen, since we’re all here, why don’t I contact my father and see if he can accommodate the interview today instead? My driver is waiting outside, I could transport you to the office immediately."

"Oh, please don’t trouble yourself. Tomorrow’s arrangement is perfectly acceptable," she replied with that same practiced smile, though I caught a flash of something like panic in her eyes.

"It’s truly no inconvenience," I pressed, watching her reaction carefully. "What do you think, Aunt Willow? We could escort Nancy to her interview and then meet Aunt Gemma for our usual coffee afterward."

"That sounds wonderful! But can your father accommodate such short notice?" Aunt Willow asked, though I could see she was pleased with my initiative.

"I’ll call him now. I’m confident he’ll make the necessary arrangements." I knew my father would agree to this favor, especially since I’d be personally vouching for her transportation. He had always been generous with employment opportunities for those truly in need.

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