Chapter 37

Matteo’s POV

I had just stepped into my study when my phone vibrated in my pocket. One vibration. Then came another.

As I stared at my screen I realized it was a private line calling. And only three men I know used it in contacting me.

I answered without greeting.

“Yes.”

Luca’s voice came through, tight. “We have a situation.”

My jaw hardened instantly at the sound of that. Knowing there was trouble. “Define situation.”

“There’s been movement at the docks. One of ours. He’s talking.”

“Who?”

“Rico.”

My eyes went cold, Rico had been with us for more than six years. Handled shipments. Trusted routes.

“If he’s talking,” I said calmly, “why is he still breathing?”

A pause came from the other end of the call.

“We wanted your word.” He said. And well of course they did. Because this wasn’t a minor betrayal.

This was a crack in the foundation of what I’ve built. And cracks spread.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Warehouse thirteen.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

I hung up. And just like that—The part of me that had been thinking about Zara shut down.

Replaced with so much anger and steel over skin. I stepped back into the hallway.

Marco was halfway down the front porch of the house when I stepped out, probably having forgotten something. Our eyes met briefly.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Work.”

His expression shifted slightly.

“We're leaving now right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get the car ready,” he said and then scurried off.

********************************************

Warehouse thirteen smelled like oil mixed with old money. Both familiar, yet unwanted at this time.

The large metal doors creaked open as I entered, Luca stood to the left, and the others to the right.

And in the center—Rico. On his knees. Completely bruised with blood on his lip. But still breathing. He looked up when I approached.

“Matteo I—”

I held up a hand and silence followed immediately as I walked slowly around him.

“Tell me,” I said evenly, “that what I heard is incorrect.”

“It’s not what it looks like—”

I crouched in front of him and met his eyes.

“What does it look like?”

“They pressured me.”

“Who?”

“Domenico Russo.”

That name again. A name I haven't heard in years, after the last shipment problem encountered with that damn company. Leading to a war that lost men.

Of course.

“They said if I didn’t give them shipping intel, they’d go after my brother.”

“And you believed them?”

“I didn’t give them everything,” he rushed out. “Just dates. Nothing major.”

“You gave them dates,” I repeated quietly.

“Yes, but—”

“Dates determine timing.”

His voice faltered.

“Timing determines interception.”

I stood slowly, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“And interception determines loss.”

The warehouse was silent except for Rico’s ragged breathing.

“How much did we lose?” I asked without looking away from him.

“Two shipments,” Marco answered. “High-value.”

Those unfortunately were millions, Reputations. And even worse, leverage. All because fear outweighed loyalty.

I stepped closer to Rico again.

“You’ve worked under me for more than six years.”

“Yes.”

“Have I ever failed to protect my own?”

“No.”

“Then why,” I asked softly, “did you not come to me?”

His eyes filled with regret.

“I panicked.”

“You chose fear over trust,” I said calmly. “That cannot be corrected.”

His face was drained of color and he lowered his head. “Boss— please—”

But I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t even need to.

“Luca.”

“Yes.”

“Handle it.”

Rico’s shouting began as I turned away. Pleading. Desperately in need of help. It echoed briefly against the metal walls.

Then— A single shot sound filled the air and then nothing came afterwards. Just silence.

I walked toward the exit without breaking stride, letting the cold wind from the night blow against my face. In a couple of minutes, Luca stepped beside me.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

He nodded once.

“That was clean.”

“It was necessary.”

But as I got into the car, something irritated under my skin. The fact that I had just been betrayed by one of my own. But what worsens it is the fact that my own body betrays me still. When it came to her image in my mind.

And even worse was the fact that Rico panicked and sold us out. Because he was afraid. And fear makes people irrational. Reckless. Weak.

As we drove back to the mansion, I thought about Zara’s eyes earlier today. The defiance. The way she looks at me is like she wants to fight and run at the same time.

And I realized something dangerous within myself, that I was losing control there, not even in business. But with her. And that was totally unacceptable.

******************************************

When I returned to the mansion, it was past midnight. And the house was quiet as usual. Dim lights lining the hallway. I removed my jacket slowly.

My knuckles were bruised from earlier, not from Rico but from the wall days ago. I leaned on the counter pouring myself a drink. Hoping to figure out a way to get back the deal with the Angelos.

And honestly, I had no plans yet. I lied repeatedly to the others about getting it back. When deep down I had no plans whatsoever to get it back.

I walked up the stairs to my study, with the wine glass still in my grip. As I walked in, I plopped into my chair raking a hand through my hair. Trying to think of a way out.

But aside from that, I had more pressing issues than that fallen deal. Her. My father’s goddamn demands on making us a family.

Right now, all of that wasn't needed, but somehow he made it seem so. I twirled around in my chair contemplating what to do.

Just then, a knock sounded on my door. I looked up and the door swung open. To my shock, she walked in. I straightened in my chair.

“I'm not here for any formalities, I just want to let you know that I will be away for a day or two,” she said as she walked in.

I perked up to my feet, and then sat on my desk facing her with my arms crossed over my chest.

“And where are you going?” I asked in a rather cold tone.

“Nowhere you should be worried about, it's not like you care anyway. Going over to Sofia’s, for study,” she responded, refusing to even look at me.

I walked towards her with both hands shoved into the pockets of my pants.

“Just study?” I asked.

“You don't get to question me like that!” she snapped.

“Last time I checked I have every right to, seeing that you live under my roof now!” I said.

“There you go again,” she yelled.

“And yet you’re still standing there.”

“You don’t scare me, Matteo!”

Not entirely true, but I find that brave, stubborn, and reckless of her.

In seconds I stood right in front of her, staring down at her lips. Uncontrollably I reached out—Slowly—Brushed a strand of hair from her face.

Her breath caught.

And that small reaction did more damage to my control than the entire warehouse earlier.

“You should,” I murmured. Her eyes flickered to my mouth briefly. Then back up.