Anthony gives a tight nod.
“And make certain the police actually enforce it.” I pivot to face him fully, voice dropping. “If our man is able to find out where Romero is staying, give them the details. If they fail, even once, then other options will need to come into play.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Good.” I pause. “Increase security around Briar and the office. Two men minimum at all times.”
“Lucien, she won’t like that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what she likes right now.” The words snap out harsher than I intend. I close my eyes, steady myself, drag breath back into my lungs. “She walked out of here to get a coffee and they still were able to find her. In my building. I won’t haveher so vulnerable again. We don’t know where Matteo is. What happened this morning wasn’t acceptable.”
Anthony watches me for a long, quiet moment. “You’re afraid.”
I glare at him. “Choose another word.”
He doesn’t. “You care about her.”
I say nothing. Silence is its own confession.
Anthony stands. “Handling this legally may take time. What’s the limit?”
This is the question that matters—the one Briar would ask if she were here. The one she fears.
“How long will you wait before you…revert to the old ways?” Anthony presses.
I turn my back to him, stare out the window again. My fingers curl into fists. “If Matteo leaves her alone, this ends legally,” I say slowly. “If he stops contacting her, stops appearing near her job, stops interfering with her life, I’ll consider the matter closed.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
My pulse slows. Cold. Focused. Dangerous. “Then I’ll decide what comes next.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.
Anthony nods once, understanding perfectly. “I’ll put everything in motion.”
“Good. Keep me updated hourly.”
He doesn’t argue. He never does when my voice hits this tone, the one that borders between man and weapon. He moves to leave, pausing at the doorway.
“She’ll understand, eventually.”
I don’t turn. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I murmur. The door clicks shut, leaving the room heavy with silence. The legal route is in place now. The line Briar needs to believe I won’t cross is drawn in the sand. But sand shifts. Sand erodes. Sand isn’tstone. And Matteo Romero is as slippery as a snake over a sand dune.
My phone sits on the desk, screen black, waiting. I stare at it for a long moment, jaw flexing. I told Briar I’d go legal. I meant it. I’ll try. But trying doesn’t mean trusting fate. Fate is for fools and corpses.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and dial a number I haven’t used in years. The rings are low, ominous, vibrating through my ribs like distant thunder.
“Boss,” a gravelly voice answers on the second ring. “Been a long time.”
“Gianni.” My voice drops an octave, instinct taking over. Like sliding back into a second skin. “I need a possible delivery. Nothing set in stone yet, but there could be an order coming through that needs finalizing.”
“Anyone I know who’s going to get a special package from you?”
“And old friend of my father’s, Matteo Romero.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Ah, so the rumors are true and he’s back on the streets. How nice of you to wish him welcome back into society.”
“Just being friendly.” I clench my jaw, hating to talk with forked tongues, but I won’t jeopardize my life, the life I’d built for my brothers, or the one I could possibly have with a woman who had thrown my world into a spin.
“Of course,” he says, but I hear the edge beneath his sanguine words, the unspoken texts. “Anything for a Moretti? Should I put you on our books for next week? How soon do you want this delivery?”
