“The Dominic I knew before,” he continues, shaking his head with a chuckle, “would have been splashed across every news site with different women. But now?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve kept yourself out of the papers. No messy affairs. It’s impressive.”
My fingers twitch to drum against the desk. “Just like I told you; I could handle it.”
“And you have.” His eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s assessing more than my business sense. Then his mouth pulls up into a knowing smile. “Your wife must be doing something right. You know…The right woman anchors you, whether you like to admit it or not. I’ve seen empires crumble because a man had no one softening his edges. And I’ve seen fortunes grow because a woman tempered his recklessness.” He tilts his head, gaze sharp. “You’ve always had the recklessness, Dominic. But lately? You’ve also had discipline. That doesn’t just appear overnight.”
Isabella’s face flashes across my mind, and I suppress the warmth rising in my chest before it shows on my face. Grimaldi doesn’t get that piece of me. No one does. If they see it, they’ll use it against me. And Bella could end up like my mother.
When I took back what belonged to me, when I slit my uncle’s throat, I knew the war didn’t end there. Power never comes free. There’s always a debt. Always a fucking price. And I knew my uncle’s loyalists would come for me.
I just never thought they’d go after my mother instead. In the mafia, we didn’t hurt women. At least, not if they didn’t deserve it. Regardless, I made sure she was safe. I got her a new identity as a widowed school teacher from Florence, and bought her a house in Valencia. For once, I believed she’d live a normal life, away from the bloodshed she had endured being married to my father.
A month after I moved her, when it felt like everything was finally settling down, a black gift box tied with a red ribbon was delivered to me. Inside it was a heart—my mother’s heart, and a note written in my uncle’s scrawl.
An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.
I spent the first year as Don hunting down the fuckers who killed her, but it didn’t bring her back. It didn’t erase the images of what was in that box, or the fact that she died because of me…because of my ambition. The guilt still chokes me, even now.
“She’s a gem,” Grimaldi says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Treat her well, Dominic. Women like that don’t come twice.”
I swallow back the instinct to tell him to mind his own fucking business. Instead, I incline my head just enough to pass for respect. He doesn’t need to know how right he is.
When he finally leaves, I open the folder, scanning the signatures and seals, but my mind is elsewhere. The only thing running through my head right now is Isabella and our impending date. My eyes drift to the clock on the table, and like some giddy teenager, I find myself counting down the hours.
I press the intercom button, connecting straight to my assistant. “Cancel my meetings today, and get me the biggest bouquet of flowers you can find.”
“Any specific type, sir?”
“All of them. I don’t give a damn. Just make sure it’s the largest.”
There’s a pause…like she wants to ask who the hell the flowers are for, but she values her job too much.
What the fuck am I even doing? I haven’t bought flowers for anyone in my life. Yet here I am, cancelling meetings that could bring in millions, just so I can hand her a damn bouquet. It makes no sense. She’s under my skin, in my head...and I don’t know when that happened. All I know is that for the first time in years, I’m looking forward to something that has nothing to do with business, power, or blood.
***
Matteo’s call was supposed to come at noon, but it’s 4 p.m. now and nothing. No messages. And nothing on Rino either.
A weird feeling settles in my gut as I dial Matteo’s number...watching it ring several times before going straight to voicemail. Matteo never ignores my calls. He’s never unreachable. Not in the many years I’ve known him.
By the fourth attempt, my patience is gone. Grabbing my jacket from the chair, I slip my Glock into its holster and head out of the office.
The drive to the warehouse takes longer than I expect, and my instinct keeps replaying the same warning. Something is wrong because there’s simply no other logical explanation for why Matteo is off the grid. The place looks unusually quiet when I arrive. There’s no sign of movement…no sign of the men that should be guarding the area. Where the fuck did they all go?
I step out of the car, fingers hovering near my gun as I approach the doors. They’re unlocked, which is a fucking red flag. My gun is raised and ready to fire before I cross the threshold, and the sight that greets me stops me cold.
Blood is smeared across the wall in violent strokes…a message written in Italian: “Pagherai per ogni goccia(You will pay for every drop).”
My fingers tighten on the grip of my gun when I see some of my men’s bodies crumpled along the wall, bullet wounds to the back of their heads. This was a fucking clean job.
A sound pulls me farther in, and at the center of the room, chained to the chair where Rino should have been, is my second-in-command. His face is barely recognizable, dried blood crusting his skin. He looks up when I crouch down, eyes burning with rage despite his battered state.
“They…were waiting for us. They knew we’d be here…they took him.” He coughs up blood, grunting in pain. “This…this is much bigger than we thought.”
Fucking hell! My head swarms with a million questions. Just how close is this fucking mole? How are they able to stay one step ahead and ruin my plans before they even begin? Most especially, who the fuck leaked the location? Only Matteo and I knew about the move.
My fingers work on the chains, hauling the metal apart and easing him out of the chair. “Let’s get you treated first.”
Chapter twenty-three
