18. Pietro
PIETRO
DANGER HAS A NAME
A mara and I have become a well-greased machine at work. She keeps me on my toes, and we banter over everything she objects to. It’s the only area of my life where it doesn’t matter if I win or lose. It’s foreplay.
I ordered chicken Alfredo, side salads, and garlic bread, and called her to come to my office. I grab a bottle of excellent red wine and pour two glasses, setting my desk as a makeshift table for an intimate meal.
“What’s so important?” She complains as she pushes the door open.
She sees the food, then her eyes take in the wine, and she smiles.
It’s worth a million dollars to see her smile. She doesn’t do it often.
Is my Princess melting?
“Is this for me?”
“There’s no one else, Amara. You know that.” My tone is low, but my words are not lost on her.
She shifts on her hip as she considers her retort but swallows it, mumbling, “Thank you.”
We eat silently, and I’m amused at how she keeps herself busy wolfing down the food. It looks like I’ve discovered how to silence her sassy mouth. When it’s not wrapped around my cock, I feed her.
It’s refreshing to be with a woman with a strong work ethic who appreciates fine dining and excellent wine .
I eat, but instead of looking at my plate, I marvel at the sight of her across from me, eating like a normal twenty-five-year-old and not like someone who grew up in a criminal family.
What aren’t you telling me, Amara?
She spends most nights with me, and when she’s not with me, I feel like I’m missing an appendage.
I long to see her, and I text her about stupid shit as an excuse to make sure she’s real.
I find myself waiting impatiently for each response.
Is it to make sure she’s real, or am I testing her to reassure myself that she’s into me?
I don’t know, but I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
She puts her fork down and wipes her mouth with a paper napkin.
“That was incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s from La Cucina del Padrino. Godfather’s Kitchen is what it means in English. It’s our family restaurant.”
“Well, the chef is amazing. I give it five stars,” she says, giving me a heartfelt smile. Her smile is everything and is more precious than the Hope Diamond.
“I have to get back to it,” she says as she stands and quietly leaves.
My heart sinks because the room is an empty shell without her.
I clean off the desk and then return to the club to check my men’s stations to ensure no security issues.
When I’m satisfied that the only trouble is a drunk man who wants more drinks from a bartender who has cut him off, I walk to the VIP area, as we’re hosting a party of Chinese businessmen, and that’s when I happen upon Amara.
The look on her face is not happy, and the man has her pushed so that her back her gorgeous ass is pressed against the wall. She tries to leave, but he reaches for her and grabs her arm.
He touched her arm!
How dare he? My anger boils over.
She’s mine, and he’s not allowed to touch her.
I’m pissed. What’s worse is that he has her cornered. I quickly move toward her to intervene, but she looks over his shoulder at me, and this gives away my presence. The man holding her quickly glances over his shoulder, and his eyes lock on mine .
Milo? Petrovi?.
What the fuck is he doing in my club?
He has some nerve coming here. But before I can get to him, he disappears into the crowd. “Find Petrovi? now. He’s in the club,” I say, hoping the tiny mic on my lapel transmits.
“We’re on it,” I hear security speaking through my earpiece. They aren’t a normal security detail—they are my men.
I rush to Amara.
“What did he say?” I lean into her, my eyes blazing.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you,” I shout as my fist flies into the wall near her head, causing her to flinch.
“It’s nothing.”
“That man is not nothing.”
“Who is he?” she asks, but her eyes are hooded, and I can’t read her like usual.
She’s hiding something.
“You know who he is. The Serbian mobster, a criminal who traffics women.”
She’s not asking questions, so she already has all the answers.
She knows.
“Did he hurt you?” I grab her chin and force her to face me.
“No.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
She shrugs and moves her feet to walk around me, but I wrap my hand around her waist.
“You owe me an explanation.”
“I can’t give you one.”
Who is she protecting? What am I missing?
Frustrated, I want to punch another wall. Nothing comes to mind that’ll make me feel better—because right now, I’m helpless. And I despise it.
My men report that their search of the club and the surrounding area has turned up nothing.
I’m not surprised. Men like Milo? Petrovi? have more enemies than I can imagine, and it pisses me off that he’s slipped through my fingers. He’s slippery, like oil, showing up when I least expect it and leaving behind a stain that I can’t erase.
He touched Amara, and for that, he will die.
Petrovi? has slipped through my fingers for now, but now, this is personal. My men have combed every lead and investigated every whisper concerning his whereabouts, but it was as if we were chasing a ghost-the kind that doesn’t just haunt, but hunts.
I will be on the lookout for his blood-stained presence creeping around in me. I need to reach him before he makes his next move. The only problem is that I don’t know what he wants, but somehow, Amara is at the center.
I stomp to the office and slam the door behind me, raking a hand through my hair before grabbing my phone. Matteo picks up on the second ring.
“Tell me you found something,” I said, voice sharp and cutting.
“You already know the answer to that.” How can he be so calm?
I slowly exhale, staring at the whiskey bottle on my desk before deciding against it. “This doesn’t make sense. The Serbs don’t move without a reason. He risked exposure coming here. What does Petrovi? want from Amara? Could he be using her as leverage against her father?”
Matteo is quiet for a beat. Then I hear him sigh. “That’s the question to the puzzle. Isn’t it? But let’s be clear. She’s not some woman, Pietro. She’s your woman and a Moretti.”
He has to throw that in my face now?
I know he was right, even if I don’t want to hear it. Not when I can still feel the weight of Amara’s scared face and how she tried so hard to hide her fear. I vowed to protect her, no matter what.
“I don’t like not knowing what he wants. And what I do know is concerning. Amara was scared, and she won’t talk.”
“You sure that’s all it is?” Matteo’s voice has an edge of amusement, but something else is underneath. Something probing. “Or is this about her?”
I clenched my jaw. “She’s in danger. That’s all that matters.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.”
I ignore him. “Petrovi? won’t stop until he gets what he wants.
And as long as he’s walking, she’s not safe.
” He’s a dead man walking because he is.
He just doesn’t know it. I’m sure Amara will want to go to her place tonight since we argued.
“I need a guard assigned to her. They can’t lurk in the shadows.
She needs someone close, someone you trust.”
Matteo quietly murmurs, “Consider it done. And?”
“Men like Petrovi? won’t stop. I know where she lives. We need to assume he does as well. She won’t last long on her own.”
Matteo hums in thought. “So, what’s the plan?”
I looked toward the window, the city sprawling beneath me like it held all the answers. “She stays with me. Until this is handled.”
“And she agreed to that?”
“Not yet.”
“She’s gonna fight you on it,” he says, and if I were sitting next to him, I know I’d be looking at the smirk on his face.
“She can try.”
Matteo chuckles again, but there is understanding in his tone. “Be careful, Pietro. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I always do.”
We hang up, but Matteo’s words linger.
Matteo has a guard who will remain closer to her after tonight, but it’s not a solution to the bigger problem.
It’s only an attempt to keep her safe, but with Petrovi?, there’s no telling where or when he will strike.
He and his men blend in and leave no footprints unless it’s on purpose.
I wish Renalto were here. He’s dealt with him before.
I could use his words of wisdom because I feel like I’m fighting a shadow.
I leave my office, wanting to see Amara. I need assurances that she is safe. After the incident, my eyes were on her, but she dodged me for the rest of the night .
Petrovi? is playing offense, while I’ve unwittingly been on defense. But now that he’s tipped his hand, I doubt he’ll return to the club.
Matteo texted me that Luca would be Amara’s protection. He’ll meet me at the penthouse in the morning.
It’s closing time, and I seek out Amara, taking her by the arm, “You’re coming with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m out of patience, Princess.” My deep voice is low and even. “You can pretend all you want, but I know Petrovi? wants something from you or your father. And I’m not playing games.”
Her eyes open wide, like an owl’s prey before it’s caught. I continue to walk her to the back door, where my driver, Joseph, is waiting.
“How do you know who my father is?”
“If you want to hide, you need to do a better job of it, sweetheart. It wasn’t easy. And you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on when we get home.”
The ride to the hotel is quiet and thick with unspoken thoughts. It feels like an invisible wall between us—until she suddenly blurts, “I should go to my place.”
“It’s not safe.” I sit beside her, letting my words settle before continuing. “Petrovi? won’t stop at one flimsy door lock. I know where you live. We have to assume he does, too. You won’t last long on your own.”
She turns to me, her eyes searching mine for something—maybe a reason, perhaps mercy.
“You can’t just keep me against my will.”
“I can, and I will.”