Previous husband, case in point.
He steps closer, and I feel it, the sheer weight of him, the quiet authority he wears like a second skin. “You need to take more care when alone,” he says softly. “People are not always who they say they are.”
I swallow hard, knowing that fact very well. “I’m alone with you now. Are you not who you say you are?” He leans in slightly, his breath warm near my ear. It takes all of my control not to press against him, feel the touch of a man that I’ve been starved of for too long.
“That’s a conversation for another time.”
A shiver dances down my spine, sharp and uninvited.
His gaze holds mine, steady and unblinking. “Are you who you say you are, Miss Locke?”
I swallow, fighting to keep the alarm his words bring forth in me from showing on my face. Just as luck would have it,Anthony appears, his expression curious. “Lucien. We should go.”
Lucien nods once but doesn’t move his gaze from mine, nor does he attempt to give me space. “Go back into the bar,” he murmurs. “Stick with Stacy.”
I nod, pulse pounding, and slip past him back into the noise and light of the bar. But I feel him behind me, the weight of his presence clinging like heat, long after I’m back with my friend.
SIX
LUCIEN
Matteo Romero should have stayed buriedin the past where he belongs, but Anthony’s reports tell me otherwise. He is back in Manhattan, sniffing around like a mutt dog that doesn’t know when to quit. I don’t like men circling me without reason, especially men with vendettas carved into their blood.
To think that years after our father’s death the Moretti name is still dealing with this shit, is an annoyance I don’t need today. Don’t need full stop. As for Romero, does the man know that you don’t have to take on your parents’ problems, that they can be buried with them for good?
For a heartbeat, I hear my father’s voice in my ear—“A Moretti never walks away from a debt, even when it’s paid in blood.” I shove the memory down where it belongs.
I sit behind my desk Monday morning, staring out at the skyline while Anthony runs through the latest updates on security.
“Pier Forty is up and running smoothly since your meeting with Capstone,” he says, standing in front of my desk with his arms crossed. “But Romero’s been seen twice in the past week near these offices. Lunches downtown, talking with people weknow used to run deals for his family. Nothing obvious yet, but he’s hanging around like he’s looking for someone.”
I drum my fingers against the arm of my chair. “And you still think this is about the drug shipment my father stiffed them on? If it’s money they want, I’ll give it to them just to get them to fuck the hell off.” Money is no issue to me, and I can afford to pay them tenfold what they are owed.
But old mafia bosses don’t accept such trades. If you’re stiffed on a deal, no matter how one tries to make it right, they want blood or nothing else. I’m not willing to die or lose my family for my father’s underhanded ways. Not when we didn’t have anything to do with it.
Anthony hesitates. “Maybe. Or maybe he just wants to remind you he’s back.”
I sigh, considering it. Romero has kept his distance for years, ever since I split my father’s dealings from mine and built Moretti Global into something the Feds cannot touch. But men like Romero don’t forgive and they certainly don’t forget. If he’s circling now, he wants something, and I need to know what it is before he takes his next step.
“Double security at the docks and at my brother’s offices downtown,” I tell Anthony. “Quietly. No uniforms, no noise. I want eyes on him without tipping him off.”
Anthony nods. “Consider it done.”
Good. I don’t like playing defence, but I’m not about to let Romero think I’m weak. This company is mine. No one touches it unless I say so.
By the time I leave my office for the meeting downtown, I have already tightened access across every department and called in favors from two contacts who still owe me from the old days. If Romero wants a confrontation, he will have to make the first move.
I step out into the hall and find Briar at her desk, typing up letters I’d assigned her this morning. She looks up when she hears me.
“Miss Locke,” I say, pausing at her desk. “You’re coming with me.”
She blinks. “To the meeting?”
“Yes. Bring your notes on Capstone and the consolidated freight contracts. I want you in the room.”
I see her hesitate for half a second, but she quickly closes her laptop and gathers her things. She follows me toward the private elevator, and I notice the faintest scent of her perfume as she passes me. Sweet. It’s distracting in a way I shouldn’t allow.
But damn it smells good.
