Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
CHAPTER 12: SANDRO
I WOKE AT6 AM to my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Three messages from my head of security, Marcus Bennett. All variations on the same theme:Situation handled. Building secure. Awaiting further orders.
Good. Professional. Exactly what I paid him for.
Emilio was still asleep, sprawled across my chest like he belonged there. His breathing was deep and even, finally relaxed after the adrenaline crash of last night. I'd felt the moment exhaustion won—his body going heavy against mine, tension draining away as sleep pulled him under.
I should let him rest. He'd earned it after the night he'd had.
But I had work to do.
I extracted myself carefully and headed to the kitchen. Coffee first. Then calls. Then dealing with whatever fallout came from the Costellos' monumentally stupid decision to threaten my attorney.
The coffee maker was one of those expensive Italian machines that required actual skill to operate. I'd learned years ago that good coffee was worth the effort. Emilio would need caffeine when he woke up. Strong and black, probably. He struck me as the type who took coffee seriously.
While the espresso pulled, I called Marcus.
"Status," I said when he answered.
"Two men stationed across from Mr. Rossi's building. Unmarked vehicle. They've got eyes on all entrances and exits. Nobody gets in or out without us knowing." Marcus's voice wascrisp despite the early hour. Former military. He didn't need sleep like normal people. "I've also got footage from last night. Man in his thirties, medium build, wearing a baseball cap. Kept his face down, avoided cameras, but we got partial plates on his vehicle."
"Send everything to Vincent." My investigator. The one who'd been with me since Chicago, who knew exactly how I handled people who threatened what was mine. "Tell him I want a name by noon."
"Already done. He's running the plates now."
"Good. When we have an identity, bring him to the warehouse. Quietly. I'll handle the rest personally." I poured the espresso into two small cups. "And Marcus? I want to know if anyone even looks at Emilio's building wrong. If a fucking pigeon lands on his fire escape, I want to hear about it."
"Understood. We're watching everything."
I hung up and started making calls. Matteo first, because he'd want to know about the escalation. Then Elio, because security was his domain and he needed to coordinate with Marcus. Then Luca, updating him on the situation in case the Costellos tried anything with our legitimate operations.
By the time Emilio emerged from the bedroom forty minutes later, I'd mobilized half my organization and consumed enough espresso to fuel a small army.
He looked rumpled and beautiful. Hair sticking up in about six different directions. My shirt from last night hanging loose on his frame. Bare feet padding across hardwood that was probably cold but he didn't seem to notice.
"What time is it?" His voice was rough with sleep.
"Almost seven. Coffee's ready." I pushed one of the cups across the counter toward him. "Figured you'd need it."
He picked it up and drank without bothering to check the temperature first. Winced slightly because it was still hot, but kept drinking anyway. Definitely took his coffee seriously.
"Have you slept at all?" he asked, eyeing the phone I was still holding.
"I'll sleep later. Right now I'm making sure you're protected." I set down the phone. Watched him process that statement. "I've got two men watching your building. My investigator's tracking down whoever delivered that threat. When we find them, I'll handle it personally."
"Handle it how?" Wary now. Like he was starting to understand what being under my protection actually meant.
"However I need to." I kept my voice neutral. Matter-of-fact. "They threatened you. That has consequences."
"Sandro—"
"Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't ask me not to retaliate. Don't ask me to be reasonable. Someone came to your home and threatened your life because you're defending me. That's not something I forgive. That's not something I let slide."
He set down his coffee cup with deliberate care. "So what, you're just going to make unilateral decisions about my safety? About how to handle threats against me? Without consulting me at all?"
