Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
I don't say a word as I grab my keys from the counter. My jaw clenches so tight my teeth might crack.
Matteo raises an eyebrow. "You good?"
I ignore him, slipping on my leather jacket in one fluid motion. Evelyn stands there with her arms crossed, her blue eyes burning holes through me. The photograph of my mother sits on the dresser where she found it—evidence of her intrusion, of her seeing something nobody was meant to see.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," I say, voice flat. "Don't let her leave."
"Where are you—" Evelyn starts.
I close the door before she can finish. The hallway feels too small suddenly, the walls pressing in.
Fuck.
The garage is cold and quiet. I pass my bike—the Ducati Matteo brought over—and head straight for the black Audi instead. I need the trunk space for whatever shit Evelyn put on that list. Clothes. Books. Fucking toiletries.
I slam the car door and grip the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles turn white. The engine purrs to life but I don't pull out immediately. Instead I sit there, breathing.
She saw the photograph. The only thing I've kept. The only weakness I've allowed myself.
My mother with her violin, smiling like the world wasn't about to swallow her whole.
I bang my fist against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. The pain helps clear my head.
I can't let Evelyn see me like this. Can't let her know she got to me. Can't let her think for one second that she has any power here. That's how people get hurt. That's how people die.
That's how my mother died.
I put the car in gear and peel out of the garage, tires squealing against concrete. The city opens up before me, all steel and glass reflecting the afternoon sun. I drive too fast, weaving through traffic with practiced precision.
I need to get her things. I need to get back. I need to regain control.
Because I can feel it slipping. Have been feeling it since I first saw Evelyn Anderson on that stage, violin pressed against her shoulder, eyes closed like she was somewhere else entirely.
I take a deep breath. Push away the memory of her standing there in my bedroom, vulnerable and exposed. Push away the way she looked at me when she realized I wasn't going to meet her gaze.
I'm not that man. I can't be that man. Not with anyone.
Not with Evelyn fucking Anderson.
I pull over to the side of the road and grab my phone. My thumb hovers over Damiano's contact before I decide against it. Better to call Alessio first. Get a read on the situation.
He answers on the second ring.
"Noah." His voice is clipped. Not a good sign.
"Where's Damiano?" I keep my own voice steady, neutral.
"Where the fuck have you been? Ivan's men were found dead. Matteo's been dodging questions. And now you call like it's just another Tuesday?"
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I asked where Damiano is."
A pause. I can almost see Alessio running his hand through his short dark hair, something he does when he's trying to decide how much to say.
"He's here. With Enzo. They're waiting for you in Damiano's office."
"They know I'm coming?"
"They know something's fucked. And they know you're involved." Alessio lowers his voice. "What did you do, Noah?"
I don't answer that. "I'll be there in twenty."
"Make it fifteen. Enzo's in one of his moods."
Perfect. Just what I need.
I hang up and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. The list of Evelyn's requirements sits there, mocking me. The shopping will have to wait.
I pull back into traffic and head toward the Feretti mansion. My mind races through possible scenarios, angles, explanations. Taking Evelyn wasn't part of any plan. It was impulsive. Dangerous. Stupid.
But I'd do it again.
The gates of the Feretti estate loom ahead, imposing wrought iron. The guard recognizes me immediately and waves me through. I park in my usual spot and take a moment to collect myself.
This isn't going to be pretty.
I straighten my jacket and head inside, nodding at the staff as I pass. My footsteps echo on the marble floors as I make my way to Damiano's office. No point in delaying the inevitable.
Alessio stands outside the double doors. His expression is grim.
"They know about the girl," he says.
"How much?"
"Enough." He studies my face. "This isn't like you, Noah. Taking her without orders."
"How do they know?" I ask.
"Word is that Ivan said he sent some men to pick her up and they ended up dead. Damiano knew that you were watching her, Noah.
I don't respond to that either. Instead I push past him and open the door.
Damiano sits behind his massive desk, fingers steepled in front of him. Enzo leans against the window, arms crossed. Both men look up as I enter.
"I l f antasma finally graces us with his presence," Enzo drawls, his eyes dark with anger.
Damiano says nothing, just watches me with that calculating gaze of his. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken accusations.
I close the door behind me.
Time to come clean.
"Sit," Damiano says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
I remain standing for a beat—just long enough to make it clear I'm choosing to comply, not being ordered—then take the seat. My face gives nothing away as I settle into the leather chair.
"So…" Enzo pushes off from the window, circling behind me like a shark. "The violinist. What was her name again? Evelyn Anderson?" His voice drips with mockery. "Didn't realize you were such a music lover, Noah. Though I guess everyone needs a hobby."
I keep my eyes on Damiano, ignoring Enzo's bait.
"You took her," Damiano states. Not a question.
"Yes."
"And killed Ivan's men."
"Yes."
Enzo leans down, his face uncomfortably close to mine. "And you didn't think to mention this little side project to anyone? Just decided to start a war with the Russians on your own?"
My jaw tightens. I won't give him the satisfaction of turning to look at him.
"Enough, Enzo," Damiano says, his voice cutting through the tension. "Back off."
"Ivan's men were waiting at her apartment," I say, keeping my voice level. "They were going to take her."
Damiano leans forward slightly. "And this concerns you because...?"
"She's under my protection."
Enzo barks out a laugh behind me. "Since when? Did I miss a memo?"
I ignore him, keeping my eyes locked with Damiano's. "I couldn't let them take her."
"So you killed three Russians and kidnapped a woman who performed at my daughter's christening." Damiano's voice remains calm but I can see the fury building behind his eyes. "Without saying a word to me."
"There wasn't time."
"Bullshit," Enzo snaps.
Damiano raises a hand, silencing Enzo. "You should have told me, Noah. Immediately after, if not before." He stands, placing both palms flat on his desk. "Do you understand what you've done? We're about to face a war with Ivan."
The weight of his words settles in the room. I knew this would happen but hearing Damiano say it makes it real.
"My family," Damiano continues, his voice dropping lower. "My wife. My newborn daughter. Everyone in this house now needs extra protection because you decided to act without informing me."
I don't flinch, though the accusation cuts deep. "I understand."
"Do you?" Damiano circles the desk, coming to stand directly in front of me. "I don't think you do. Ivan will come for her. And when he can't find her he'll come for us. All of us."
"I'll handle Ivan."
"No." Damiano's voice is sharp. "You won't. Not alone. Not anymore. This isn't just about you and whatever obsession you've developed with this woman."
I clench my jaw at the word ‘obsession’ but stay silent.
"You're going to face consequences for this, Noah." Damiano steps back, his expression hardening. "You've put my family at risk. That's not something I can overlook, even for you."
I meet Damiano's gaze without flinching. Fifteen years of service to the Feretti family, and this is the first time I've seen true disappointment in his eyes.
"You want to impose consequences? Fine. I accept them," I say, keeping my voice steady. "But I won't apologize for keeping her safe from Ivan."
Damiano shakes his head. "This isn't about apologies. It's about loyalty and chain of command." He walks back around his desk, lowering himself into his chair. "You're suspended from operations. Effective immediately."
The words hit me like a punch in the jaw. "What?"
"For two weeks, you're off duty. No meetings, no collections, no enforcement. Nothing."
"You can't be serious." I surge forward, my hands clenching into fists. "We have the Colombian shipment coming in. The expansion south?—"
"All of which will proceed without you," Damiano cuts me off. "Matteo will handle your responsibilities."
Behind me, Enzo makes a sound that might be satisfaction.
Damiano catches my eye, then glances toward Enzo and Alessio. "Leave us."
"But—" Enzo starts.
"Now." Damiano's voice leaves no room for argument.
Alessio nods, already moving toward the door. Enzo lingers a moment longer, eyes narrowed at me before following Alessio out. The heavy wooden door clicks shut behind them.
Silence fills the room. Damiano walks to the liquor cabinet in the corner, pulls out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He pours two fingers in each, slides one across the desk toward me.
"Sit down, Noah."
I take the seat across from him, leaving the scotch untouched.
Damiano drops back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "All these years. How many times have you put your life on the line for this family? For me?"
I don't answer. We both know.
"Moscow. That mess in Miami. The Triad situation. Sienna's situation." He takes a sip, eyes never leaving mine. "You've had my back through all of it."
"It's my job."
"No." Damiano sets his glass down with a sharp thud. "It's more than that. We both know it. Which is why this hurts more." He leans forward. "I will have your back with Ivan. I will protect this woman if she needs it. But I need something from you in return."
I wait.
"Complete honesty. No more of this lone wolf shit." Damiano's eyes harden. "You come to me first. Every time. No exceptions."
"I couldn't risk?—"
"You couldn't risk what? That I'd say no?" Damiano cuts me off. "That I'd hand her over to Ivan? Is that what you think of me?"
The accusation stings because he's right. I didn't trust him with this. With her.
"You've been watching this woman for months," Damiano continues. "Don't think I haven't been aware. This isn't just business for you."
I clench my jaw but say nothing.
"I don't care what she is to you. But I care about this family's survival." Damiano leans back. "So here's how this works. Your suspension stands. But I need to know where she is, and I need to know you'll come to me with everything from now on."
I reach for the scotch, finally taking a sip. The burn matches the heat in my chest.
"She's at my place. Matteo's watching her."
Damiano nods. "And Ivan? What's his interest in her?"
"She has signed a contract with him. Exclusively. He doesn't share his things."
"And now you've taken one of his things."
I feel my jaw tighten. "She's not a thing."
A ghost of a smile touches Damiano's lips. "No, she's not. Which is why we're having this conversation instead of me putting a bullet in your head for risking my family."
I drain the rest of the scotch and set the glass down. "Thank you for understanding."
"I don't understand," Damiano corrects me. "But I'm giving you room to explain yourself. Don't mistake that for approval."
"I know. And I'll pay you back for this, Damiano. Whatever it costs."
Something shifts in his expression—a hardness I rarely see directed at me. "Yes, you will."
I nod. "I understand."
"Good." Damiano gestures toward the door. "Now get out of my office before I change my mind about letting you walk out of here."
I rise, leaving the empty glass on his desk. There's nothing more to say. I created this mess and now I'll deal with the fallout. I turn and walk toward the door, feeling Damiano's eyes on my back.
The hallway feels too bright after the dimness of Damiano's office. I pull the door closed behind me and pause, exhaling slowly. Two weeks suspension. It could have been worse. Much worse.
"So, you're still alive. Interesting."
I look up to find Lucrezia leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Her dark eyes study me with that particular blend of curiosity and judgment she's perfected.
"Disappointed?" I ask.
She pushes off the wall, moving closer. "Just surprised. My brother doesn't usually let people walk away after they put our family at risk."
I clench my jaw. "Your brother handled it."
"For now." Lucrezia tilts her head. "She must be special, this Evelyn. To make you lose your mind like this."
"I didn't lose my mind."
"Really?" She gives me a knowing look. "The Noah Rivera I know doesn't act without orders. Doesn't take risks without calculating every angle." She steps closer, lowering her voice. "Doesn't kidnap women from charity events."
"I didn't kidnap her. I saved her."
"Same difference in our world, isn't it?" She studies my face. "Just be careful, Noah. When men like you suddenly develop feelings, people tend to get hurt."
I don't bother correcting her assumption. "I need to go."
Lucrezia nods, stepping aside. "Of course you do. Your captive awaits."
I move past her without another word, heading for the exit. I've spent enough time away from my apartment. From Evelyn. And with Ivan's men searching the city, I can't afford to be gone much longer.