Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Matteo
"Matteo, you have to go. The old Ashford family wants to see you this afternoon at Oak Club in the suburbs."
"Not going."
"This isn't a game, Matteo!" Vincenzo's tone turned hard.
"Farrell just cut off two of our South American supply lines.
We need the Ashford family's political and DOJ connections now more than ever!
If you don't show up today, you're gambling with Vitale's entire foundation!
Even if you're the Don, the Council has the right to question your position! "
I gripped the phone tight. Those old bastards always knew where to stick the knife. I couldn't afford a complete break with the Council right now. Internal chaos would be an open invitation for attack—that would be a real disaster.
I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, and forced down the violent urge to crush Vincenzo's throat.
"Three o'clock. I'll be there."
Half an hour later, I slid into the car. Luca turned around, voice low. "Boss, bad news. The men tracking Leona Kane reported in. Surveillance shows she boarded a westbound bus three days ago, alone. She hasn't surfaced since."
I opened my eyes, fingers drumming impatiently on my knee. "Keep looking." My voice went cold. "Check every stop along that route. I want her found—dead or alive."
"Understood."
"And," I paused, "don't breathe a word of this to Rachel."
"Yes, sir."
The car rolled into Brooklyn. The streets here always carried that stubborn staleness—brick facades covered in messy graffiti. As we passed Rachel's block, I glanced absently out the window.
Outside the 24-hour supermarket on the corner, Rachel stood with two heavy-looking shopping bags. And beside her stood a man.
Charles again! That incident clearly hadn't fazed him much—here he was, buzzing around Rachel like a goddamn fly.
He'd dressed up for the occasion—casual light-colored suit, hair slicked back perfectly, face lit up with that brilliant smile. One hand carried a shopping bag, the other hovered protectively near Rachel's elbow. Intimate enough to make my blood boil.
What pissed me off most was Rachel. She was looking up at him, talking, even wearing a faint smile.
I felt every drop of blood rush to my head.
"Stop the car."
Luca jerked in surprise, slamming on the brakes.
"Boss!" Luca moved to follow.
I looked back, stopping him with a glance. I strode toward them and shoved myself between them, my body cutting off their line of sight.
"Charles. That shipment I sent you to watch in Queens—you must've wrapped it up fast. Otherwise, you wouldn't have time for this little errand, playing gentleman for the lady."
"Handled it first thing this morning, uncle. As for this—Rachel was carrying all this by herself. Any man with basic manners wouldn't just stand by."
Son of a bitch. Real smooth.
He paused. "Besides, Rachel is still single. That being the case, I believe anyone should have the right to pursue her. Wouldn't you agree?"
Every word polite. Every word a knife between my ribs.
I stared at him, fists tightening. Charles didn't budge, smile intact. I couldn't take it anymore—I raised my hand to swing.
"Enough."
Rachel stepped between us. She yanked the shopping bag from Charles's hand and turned to glare at me first.
"Matteo, what the hell is wrong with you?" Her words came fast. "Charles and I ran into each other. The bags were heavy. He helped. That's it."
Rachel ignored me and turned to Charles. "Thanks for today, Charles." She steadied the bags. "But I meant what I said. We're colleagues. I don't want things getting complicated."
"Understood." He looked at her, voice softer. "If that's what you want, I respect it."
He gave me a slight nod. "Uncle, best of luck with your marriage negotiations today."
I turned—Rachel was already walking away with the bags.
"Rachel." I caught up, reaching for the bags. "Let me—"
"No need." She dodged sideways without breaking stride.
I moved to follow when Luca rushed over. "Boss, you're going to be late for the Ashford meeting."
Fuck! Of all times!
I swallowed my frustration and got back in the car.
The old Ashford bastard droned on endlessly about the business advantages of uniting our families. I didn't hear a word. Several times I nearly flipped the damn table.
George kept kicking me under it, shooting me desperate looks. I barely managed to choke down my rage and deflect the marriage talk with "We'll revisit this after next quarter's financials."
When I left the club, the sky had gone dark. I got in the car and gave my first order.
"Find out who's backing Charles." I didn't believe he could shake the FBI on his own.
"Yes, sir."
"And make his life difficult. Keep him too busy to show up in Brooklyn again."
"Right away, boss."
After dealing with that mess, I had the driver head to Brooklyn. The car stopped outside Rachel's building. I went up and rang her bell for a long time. Nothing. The foyer light flickered on once, and someone seemed to pause behind the door for a few seconds, but it never opened.
I didn't knock again. I turned and left.
By the time we reached the underground garage at Central Park South, night had fully fallen.
I rode the elevator up alone. The door slid open to the same cold, silent apartment—even the air felt suffocating.
I shouldn't have let her move back. Should've told the contractors to take another month.
"Meow—"
Cassius jumped down from the shoe rack, a sock dangling from his mouth. He walked over and looked up at me with a meow, as if complaining I'd come home too late. I bent down and pulled the sock from his mouth. A dark gray cotton ankle sock. Rachel's.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Rachel's number. A cold automated message played—she'd blocked me.
I stared at the dark screen, knuckles whitening. Fine, Rachel Kane. Locked door, blocked number—did she really think I had no options left?