“Well, those men aren’t here, are they, Mr. Valerio?” I reply evenly. “If you want answers, you’ll have to let me look everywhere. I can’t chase shadows with blindfolds on.”
He leans forward, and the space between us takes on a lethal chill.
“You could be the threat.”
Ah, if only he knew.
I meet his gaze head-on, ignoring the faint waver in my gut that tells me my suppressants are thinning by the minute.
“I could be. But you’re the one who hired me. If you thought I wasn’t fit for the job, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
I let the silence stretch for just a breath.
“Give me enough rope to hang myself, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ll know soon enough if I’m here to help or not.”
Soon enough, when your body is six feet under.
He studies me in silence. Those dark eyes cut right through me, searching for cracks in the facade, for any weakness he can exploit.
But I’ve trained for this. Spent six months building David DaCosta into someone who could stand in this room andnot flinch. Except theory and practice are two different things, and Enzo Valerio in person is more than I bargained for. The way he watches me feels less like suspicion and more like he already knows what I’m hiding and is simply waiting to see if I’ll confess.
My throat goes dry, but I don’t look away. I hold his stare with everything I have.
He hums, low in his throat, and starts tapping a finger on the desk. Steady beats that feel like a countdown. To what, I don’t know.
Have I overplayed my hand, maybe? Been too bold for someone who walked in here minutes ago? It will be a problem if he shuts me down or limits my access. I’ll be stuck trying to work around whatever restrictions he puts in place for weeks, precious time I don’t have.
Precious time I don’t want to give to this bastard.
“Full access,” he says at last. “Granted.”
Relief hits me so hard I almost sag. I don’t. I keep my spine straight, my expression neutral, even as my mind races with the possibilities.
Full access means server rooms, personnel files, and surveillance footage. Everything I need to build my case against Valerio and Sokolov.
Valerio pushes off the desk and closes the distance between us. My suppressants waver again, and his scent hits me harder this time—dark cedar with smoky notes. My brain goes quiet and attentive in a way that makes me want to claw my own skin off. I shouldn’t be aware of him like this.
He stops close enough that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I can see the silver of his faded scar, the exact shade of black in his eyes.
His nostrils flare slightly, so subtle I would have missed it if I wasn’t paying attention.
He’s close enough that if I wanted to, I could—
The gun. I could reach for the gun right now. Put it under his chin and pull the trigger before anyone could stop me.
But not yet.
I force myself to stay still.
“I value loyalty, Mr. DaCosta,” Valerio says, and something flickers across his face, too fast to read. “My father used to say loyalty was bought with fear. I’ve found it works better when it’s earned.” His eyes hold mine, dark and fathomless. “But that takes time. Trust takes time.”
There’s something almost weary in the way he says it. Like he’s tired of the constant calculation, the endless testing he probably does in his line of work. For a second, he doesn’t look like a ruthless crime lord, but rather a man carrying weight he didn’t ask for.
Then it’s gone, and he’s all cold calculation again.
“The people who work for me, who I trust with my family’s interests—I protect them. Generously. But betrayal?” He smiles again. This one touches his eyes, but the look behind it could freeze blood solid. “I don’t tolerate that.”
I curse myself for whatever humanity I thought I glimpsed a second ago. This is the real him. The man who had my brothermurdered. I need to carve that into my brain and never forget it.
