My stomach knots tighter than when I’ve had a blade pressed to my ribs. What if she’s already seen it? What if she believes it?
The world can paint me as a liar, a cheat, a man with no loyalty. I don’t give a fuck. But if she sees this, if she believes it, even for a second, and thinks I betrayed her…Fuck!
Suddenly, I remember the date. My eyes quickly find the clock again, and I see that it’s past 11 p.m. I’m definitely late for the date but there are more pressing issues. The only things I should care about right now are my public image and the mafia. Everything else is secondary.
“Matteo, run me through the items you found at Benny’s again.”
He adjusts slightly on the chair with a low wince. “Just a few mundane items. Wallets, keys, gifts, watches, a cigarette case…” he trails off, and I recall the look on Benny’s face when he gave up the ghost. He’d seemed proud. Bastard had died taking what he knew to the grave. He died protecting somebody—somebody worth dying for.
“He died for someone worth protecting,” I say, my mind already assessing a million different scenarios.
“Perhaps he died protecting family?”
I shake my head. “What if he died protecting a lover?”
“We’ve gone over this before, Boss. We scanned his background, found the ex-girlfriend he used to date and she doesn’t know anything. They broke up a month ago.”
Gripping the edge of the chair, I let out a steady exhale to even my breathing. Surely there must be something tangible on Benny. He’s the closest we’ve been to the mole, and right now, he is the only option to stop this shit going on.
I turn to Matteo. “I want to see the bastard’s items again.”
Matteo nods and instantly shoots to his feet, but falls back from the momentum. He groans, but I’m beside him in a flash, helping him up, out of the doctor’s office, and outside to the car.
In the driver’s seat, I turn on the ignition and hit the gas, my knuckles blanching against the wheel. A plethora of thoughts hits me, and with each speed I hit on the speedometer, my mind spins a whole lot of conspiracy theories.
What if there’s no mole and I’m somehow being watched? Maybe my phone is tapped? Who released that fucking video with Sabrina and why? Has the journalist come back for revenge?
We arrive at the mansion, and I waste no time getting out of the car, gesturing to two guards to help Matteo inside. When I getinside, my steps falter at the sight of the neatly decorated table in the dining room.
Bella…
For a split second, I debate going to her room, but quickly decide against it. I stride to my office, yanking the door open before sinking into my chair.
“Fuck!” My hand crashes heavily against the table. It does nothing to contain the anger brimming in my chest. Matteo enters a few seconds later and drops a clear bag packed with Benny’s items.
My jaw tightens as I work to open the bag and spill its contents on the table. Wallet, keys, a scuffed watch, loose bills, a birthday card, and a pair of stud earrings in a small jewelry box. Some of the items are gifts, probably from his lover.
I continue rifling through more of the stuff when my hand grazes a cigarette case. It looks normal, silver, polished and gleaming under the overhead fluorescent bulb, but something about it pulls me in.
A quick glance at Matteo tells me he doesn’t understand my interest in the case. I snap it open with a crisp click to find an untouched row of cigarettes. Staring at it for a while doesn’t give me answers, so I release a frustrated breath, tug one cigarette out, and find a lighter.
As I light the cigarette buried between my knuckles, I see something. Right there, underneath the lid of the case, is a small, almost invisible engraving—from me to you.
I narrow my eyes at this, brushing my thumb over the surface, and that’s when I see another engraving just below it.Loyalty first,written in Italian.That’s my creed…the mafia’s mantra.
Then it hits me. This, too, was a gift. But this is no gift from a woman. No woman would send a cigarette case with such emotionless words that almost seemed hidden…like they didn’t want anyone to know the words were there.
“This cigarette case is not a gift from his ex,” I grit out without glancing at Matteo, but he quickly shuffles closer and takes a look. We’d thought the gift items were from his ex before they broke up.
A woman would have sent perfumes, key holders…whatever sentimental shit. But this…it lacks a woman’s touch.
Matteo slides his gaze to me, his brows slanting downwards.
“Women give sentimental gifts.” I stand sharply as the pieces slowly start to fall into place. “But this…noI love you, plus it has engravings in places that feel like they were deliberately hidden. Italian engravings, Matteo.”
His ex is British, and when Matteo questioned her, she said they broke up because she found out he was in the mafia. She wouldn’t write such engravings.
Matteo’s eyes slowly widen. “It was a gift from a man in this mafia,” he breathes.
