“Dallen,” he says finally, lifting his gaze. “I’ve been made aware of something.”
The dread pools in my gut. “What?”
“Your clients. The Romeros.”
I blink—dear Lord, not him as well. I fight not to sigh, to tell him to leave, but something stops me. He is the Chief of Police. Maybe he knows something with truth behind its claims. “What about them?” I say, knowing I must tread carefully regarding client confidentiality.
His jaw flexes. “Do you know what they want with you? The true reason why they hired Redwood & Tully?”
“What do they want with me?” I repeat, shaking my head, “Dad, I’m their attorney. What else would they want than representation?”
He straightens, all business now. “We intercepted a conversation this morning. Wiretap on one of their associates. They’re not hiring your firm because they care about Matteo’s assets.” He pauses. “They’re using the firm to get close to you because you’re getting close to someone they want to hurt.”
A chill darts down my spine. “Why would?—?”
He cuts me off. “They know you’re seeing Stephen Moretti, and if they weren’t sure before, they certainly are now after the charity event Saturday night.”
My legs shake, and I grip the edge of my desk. “That’s—no. Dad, I barely know Stephen Moretti. We haven’t even discussedif we’re exclusive.” Although, after what Stephen said to me the other night, I’m pretty sure he’s already under the assumption we’re a couple and I’m exclusive. His possessive nature toward me already should raise red flags, yet I know he wouldn’t hurt me. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt others who threaten our relationship.
Are the Romeros up to no good? Am I a pawn in their game? Is Stephen correct?
My father’s fingers tighten on the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve discussed. They think you’re connected to him, and intimately, all the better for them.” He shakes his head, looking weary and concerned. “These mobsters have one rule they enjoy enforcing most. An eye for an eye. They believe the Morettis killed one of their own, and you, being with Stephen…” His nostrils flare. “You’re a target of opportunity.”
My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my fingertips. “Dad, this doesn’t make sense. Why would they come after me over something that isn’t even proven, and isn’t even being investigated? If law enforcement thought the Morettis had killed a Romero, I would think that would be headline news.”
“Nothing the mafia does needs to make sense,” he snaps. “It doesn’t have to be logical. It just has to hurt.”
What my father says slowly sinks in. “Oh my God.”
His expression softens, taking on a tinge of fear. I’ve only seen my father look like that once: when my brother was killed.
“This is not a game, Dallen.” His voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “These people don’t care about your career, your future, your safety, or any of us. They see you as leverage. As punishment.”
A thick knot forms in my throat. “What do I do? I can’t just drop them as clients. My boss is so pleased to have picked them up. There will be questions that I’m not sure they’ll believeshould I tell them, especially when some of the information is a father’s fear.”
“In either case, you’re going to talk to whomever you need to,” he says firmly. “To drop them as clients. Immediately.”
I nod, because what else can I do? “All right. Instead of the information you’ve come into, I’ll tell them today and inform the Romeros before the close of office.”
He exhales, the sound one of relief. “Good.” Another pause, and then—softer, but somehow heavier— “There’s something else.”
Of course there is.
I brace myself.
“I want you to stop seeing him.”
The words hit like a slap. “Dad?—”
“I’m not negotiating on this.”
Anger flashes through me, sharp and defensive. “You can’t tell me who I can date.” It’s bad enough that he’s telling me who my clients can be, even though intelligence has alerted them that the Romeros are up to no good. Still, it irks. As a Taurus, I loathe being told what I can and can’t do.
“I can tell you who’s dangerous.” His jaw tightens. “Stephen’s father is a renowned killer. Ruthless. Sadistic. I put men in the ground because of him. And the Moretti wealth—” He gestures broadly. “It isn’t built on shipping, construction, and real estate. It’s built on blood.”
I shake my head. “That was decades ago. Everything I’ve read says the brothers are legitimate, everything’s above board.” I pause, softening my tone. “Dad, you can’t keep punishing children for the sins of their father. That’s not fair.”
“That’s what they want the world to think,” he says coldly. “But these men don’t change, Dallen. Violence is their language. Their inheritance. They are cut from the same cloth. Don’t be fooled, they’re not.”
