A muscle popped once in Renzo’s jaw, a sign he was losing patience with Matteo. He’d never say so—or give any other indication of discomfort. He was too well-trained for that.
Matteo shifted his gaze to me. A split second later, he sat forward and dropped his heels to the floor. “You look like shit. What happened? Boutique owner wasn’t happy to see you?”
“Something like that.” Exactly that. I bit down my own sigh. For all of Matteo’s grins and bluster, he saw far too much. I poured myself three fingers of Scotch and dropped into the chair beside Matteo. “Lila. Lila Carmichael.”
“The girl from university?” Renzo broke his own unspoken rule not to speak unless to gain pertinent information. “The one you left?—”
“When my father was murdered.” I bit out the words with all the remaining anger that stirred every time I thought of him, of how they’d cut him down like cowards. I knocked back the Scotch and considered pouring another.
Matteo pushed the decanter away from us both. His playful smile evaporated so fast it might never have been there at all. “Interesting time. A week ago the Verduccis hit our warehouse and we’re forced to come here to hunt an artifact. And you consider this a good time to pay a visit to an old flame?”
When he put it like that, I saw the futility and the selfishness I’d tried to pass off as concern. “She won’t be a problem.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Matteo pushed a hand through his hair and reached for his computer. “Renzo, give him the rundown.”
Renzo shifted his weight enough to give me a once-over. Whatever he saw convinced him to offer a nod before he resumed his vigilant guard. “The place is secure. No one is getting in or out without my knowledge. Every possible sniper point has one of our men on guard. If they go down, I’ll know.” He patted his chest where he kept the life markers Matteo had made for all our men. Every man had one embedded in them. If their heart stopped, Renzo knew because the corresponding marker in his vest alerted him.
“Any word on the artifact?” Matteo drained his drink and set the glass aside. His sleeve pulled upward, revealing the silver wolf tattoo with crimson eyes that marked him as part of my syndicate.
“One of our informers say they’ve seen it. I’m tracking him down for a more reliable report.” I tried relaxing, but nothing eased the discomfort tightening in my chest.
Standing, I made my way back into the penthouse. Luxury smothered the place, taking away most of the charm and turning it gaudy. White leather sofas sat beneath a massive painting of Italy. A fireplace wrapped in stone took up one entire wall, a pair of golden chalices bookending another painting of a vineyard.
“Who the fuck decorated this place?” I faced the bedroom where I’d sleep tonight and a shudder of revulsion shivered through me. “It’s hideous.”
“You told the decorator classic Italian with a modern theme.” Matteo laughed loud and long when I held out my hands and turned.
“And this is what they came up with?” It looked like all of Italy threw up in one space and was smeared around in a palette of gold and bronze. My father would’ve loved it. “We’re redecorating as soon as possible.”
“Not until the threats are neutralized.” Renzo targeted me with a look that stopped all arguments.
I might be the man in charge, but I’d put him in charge of my safety, and I’d have to kill him to stop him from doing his job.
“Your enemies are closing in.” Renzo followed me into the living area, his steps measured and precise, his hands still locked behind his back. Pistol grips jutted out from either hip, and I knew from personal experience that several more were hidden around on his person, along with a few knives, throwing stars, and probably other weapons I’d never seen or guessed at. “If the girl is not a threat, why did you go see her?”
Because my damned curiosity had to know if she’d followed her dreams and succeeded. I’d ended all ties to her when I walked away, knowing if I tried to help by pulling strings to ensure her success, I’d never convince myself to stay away.
Renzo stepped into my space. “Is she a threat?”
“No. But she might be in danger.” The pulse of fear wrecked my heart, and I paced the living area, my steps silent in the thick, beige carpet.
Matteo padded over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets one by one. He found what he was looking for in the second cabinet and pressed his hand against a scanner. A hidden doorpopped open behind me, revealing the safe room Renzo insisted he be allowed to build.
“I never should have gone to see her.” I stopped at the counter and leaned my weight onto it, using my hip as an anchor. “Matteo, I need you to dig into her life. I want to know everything that happened after I left.”
“But you said…” He waved his hands as he trailed off. “Never mind. Not my business.”
“I feel it important to warn you not to get sidetracked by this woman when we have the Verducci syndicate breathing down our necks. We cannot afford distractions,” he said with cold simplicity, his take-no-prisoners mentality a driving force behind every word, every move.
I allowed a beat of silence to follow before I broke it. “My stop might have put Lila in the syndicate’s crosshairs. She has a child. A boy.” I choked on the lump that rose into my throat. Matteo and Renzo waited for me to continue, neither commenting on my sudden inability to speak. “Add her and the boy to your protective circle, Renzo. No one touches them.”
I stalked away from the kitchen and made my way into the office. Here the world made sense. Here I was surrounded with glass, leather, and chrome. The simplicity I craved was a stark contrast to the outside appearances I maintained. Groaning, I dropped into the leather chair and brought my phone up from my pocket. The lock screen required a thumbprint and password to unlock, and I moved through them with muscle memory. The tap over to my photos took a second then Lila filled the screen. I’d taken the picture at the end of one of our drives, on a day when the sun shone bright and Lila smiled at me like I’d created the world. I ran my thumb over her face, remembering the way it felt beneath my hands and body.
What right did I have to infiltrate her life after all these years? The boy’s image flashed through my mind, followed byLila’s playful look. I had every right to verify if the boy was mine. If she hid him from me, what else might I need to know about the woman I’d loved enough to walk away to protect her?
“What are you hiding from me, Lila?”
5
