Chapter 8
A Dangerous Bargain
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the rugged Sicilian landscape as Matteo and Aldo stood at the edge of the ruined safe house. The air was thick with the scent of earth and the faint tang of smoke from the distant hills. Matteo’s shoulders were heavy with exhaustion, his mind racing as he tried to piece together their next move. The safe house had been their best hope, and now it was gone.
Aldo broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “We need resources. Weapons, money, a way out of here. I know someone in Naples who can help.”
Matteo turned to him, his brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Sofia Ricci,” Aldo said, his tone careful. “She’s… a contact. Knows how to get things done.”
Matteo’s expression darkened. “Sofia Ricci? She’s not exactly a fan of Morettis. You expect me to trust her?”
Aldo met his gaze, his eyes unflinching. “She’s fine. She’s smart, connected, and she owes me a favor. Right now, she’s our best shot.”
Matteo crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. “And what’s to stop her from selling us out to the highest bidder? Or handing us over to Russo?”
“Because she’s not stupid,” Aldo replied, his voice sharp. “She knows Russo would turn on her in a heartbeat. And she knows I’d make her regret it if she double-crossed us.”
The two men stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. But it wasn’t just about Sofia. It wasn’t just about survival. The memory of last night hung between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore. The way Matteo’s breath had hitched when Aldo had kissed him. The way Aldo’s fingers had dug into Matteo’s shirt, holding him there, refusing to let go.
And the way they had both pulled apart, like touching each other was a mistake neither could afford to make.
Matteo’s instincts screamed at him to refuse, to find another way. But the truth was, they were running out of options. Matteo refused to drag Enzo and Luca into this mess, not after having been entrusted by his brother to represent their family. He’d die before admitting that he had failed. So, it seemed that Sofia Ricci, for all her ties to the De Luca family, might be their only chance.
“Fine,” Matteo said finally, his voice tight. “But if this goes south, it’s on you.”
Aldo nodded, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Noted.”
???
They set off toward the nearest town, their footsteps heavy with fatigue. The journey was long and grueling, the terrain unforgiving. Hours passed in near silence, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the dry brush or the distant howl of some unseen animal. They walked side by side, their shoulders brushing once, twice; too much, and not enough.
Matteo’s thoughts tangled with the memory of Aldo’s lips, the way their bodies had pressed together in anger, in need, in something neither of them were ready to name. He hated how it lingered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him, whispering that no matter how much he tried to shove it down, it wasn’t going away.
By the time they reached the outskirts of the small village, the sky was a deep indigo, the first stars beginning to twinkle overhead. Aldo led them to a payphone near the town square, its plastic casing cracked and yellowed with age. He dug a few coins from his pocket and dialed a number from memory. The line rang twice before a woman’s voice answered, smooth and confident.
“Aldo,” Sofia said, her tone laced with amusement. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
“We need your help,” Aldo said, cutting straight to the point. “We’re in Sicily. Things have gone sideways.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Matteo could almost hear the gears turning in Sofia’s mind. “And what’s in it for me?” she asked finally.
“A favor,” Aldo replied, his voice firm. “Name your price.”
Sofia laughed, a low, throaty sound. “You always did know how to make things interesting. Fine. Meet me at the usual place. But don’t keep me waiting.”
The line went dead, and Aldo hung up the phone, his expression unreadable.
“Well?” Matteo asked, his arms crossed.
“She’s in,” Aldo said, turning to him. “But we need to move fast. Naples is a long way from here.”
Matteo nodded, his stomach churning with unease. Trusting a De Luca ally went against every instinct he had, but they were out of options. He started walking, feeling Aldo fall into step beside him. The space between them should have felt safe, but it didn’t. It felt charged, like a lit fuse waiting to burn down.
And Matteo didn’t know what would happen when it finally did.
???
The streets of Naples were alive with a restless energy, the kind that pulsed beneath the surface of the city like an unspoken promise of danger. Neon lights flickered above crowded alleyways, casting long, shifting shadows. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, mingling with the acrid bite of gasoline and the tantalizing aroma of street food. Aldo and Matteo moved through the crowd, their shoulders tense, eyes scanning for threats.
Matteo hadn’t spoken much since they boarded the train, his silence heavy, weighted with something more than exhaustion. The memory of the kiss still lingered between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore. Every accidental brush of their arms, every fleeting glance that lasted a second too long, it was there, humming like a wire pulled too tight.
Aldo kept his focus on the task at hand, leading them down a quiet side street where the glow of the city dimmed. The entrance to the club was discreet, hidden behind an unmarked steel door. A man at the entrance eyed them warily but stepped aside with a nod when Aldo met his gaze. Inside, the music was a low thrum beneath their feet, the air hazy with the scent of expensive cigars and perfume.
Sofia Ricci sat in a corner booth, draped in an elegance that was effortless and dangerous. Dark waves of hair framed sharp cheekbones, and her crimson lips curved into a knowing smile as they approached. She held a glass of something amber-colored, swirling it lazily before taking a sip.
"Aldo," she greeted, her voice smooth as silk. "It’s been a while. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me."
Aldo slid into the seat across from her, his expression unreadable. "Not a chance."
Matteo remained standing for a beat longer before sitting beside Aldo, his posture stiff. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like her. And judging by the amusement in Sofia’s eyes when she glanced at him, she knew it.
"And you must be Matteo," she mused, setting her glass down. "The infamous middle Moretti brother." Her eyes flicked between them, something sharp in her gaze. "You boys look tense. Long journey?"
"We need your help," Aldo said, ignoring her taunt. "Weapons. Safe passage out of Sicily. Information."
Sofia chuckled, leaning back against the booth. "That’s quite the shopping list. And I assume you’re expecting me to provide all this out of the goodness of my heart?"
Aldo’s jaw tightened. "You owe me."
She tilted her head, considering him. Then, slowly, she smiled. "I do. But debts can be repaid in many ways, Aldo. And right now, I need something from you."
Matteo exhaled sharply. "Of course you do. Let’s hear it."
Sofia’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "There’s a man. He has something that belongs to me. I need it back. Quietly."
Aldo exchanged a glance with Matteo, the air between them charged. Matteo’s fingers curled against his thigh, tension rippling through his frame. He didn’t like being backed into a corner, especially not by someone like Sofia. But they had no choice.
"Fine," Aldo said finally. "Who is he?"
Sofia’s smile widened. "Oh, you’ll love this. He’s an associate of Russo."
Matteo cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Of course he is."
Sofia leaned in; her perfume heady in the air. "Do this for me, and I’ll make sure you get what you need. But don’t take too long; time is not on your side."
Aldo nodded, the muscle in his jaw ticking. "We’ll handle it."
As they left the club, the weight of the night pressed down on them. The city lights cast their shadows long and fractured against the pavement. Matteo let out a sharp breath, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"This is a bad idea," he muttered.
Aldo shot him a look. "You have a better one?"
Matteo clenched his jaw, his frustration simmering. But underneath it, something else burned just as fiercely. Aldo turned away, but not before Matteo caught the flicker of something in his gaze; something dangerous, something unresolved.
Neither of them spoke about the way their hands had nearly brushed on the table. Or the way their pulse had spiked, not from danger, but from something else entirely.
For now, the mission was all that mattered.