Chapter 8
Matteo
“Hey, boss. You got a delivery.”
Looking up, I see Reggie standing in the doorway to my office. He’s been working here for years, yet still completely in the dark as to everything that transpires here. But he does immaculate body work on the cars brought to us. So, it’s just as well.
“Thanks. Does it say who it’s from?”
“No. And it’s actually addressed to a G. Black. I didn’t sign for it. Hope it won’t be too much trouble to get them to come pick it up if it was sent here in error.”
G. Black is my cousin. Giovanni Messina changed his name to Gianni Black when he moved to the states and opened his sex club, The Devil’s Playground. While Luca, Antonia, and I took our mother’s name, Bianchi, it wouldn’t have made sense for him to do the same.
Luca has since taken another alias when he and his bride and children moved to Jamaica to stay off the grid. Antonia goes by Luna here in the states. She and my nephew have been living with Luigi and his wife, Maria, for years now. They, thankfully, accepted the extra security I placed on their home in exchange for taking them in. It wouldn’t have been fair not to protect them, as well as my sister and Mimmo. And while there haven’t been many, there have been a few credible threats. Once Luca, and his now family, suffered through a very traumatic time, there’s been no downplaying the very real nature of the warnings. Whether it was my father or the Grasso family that sent the hit men to hurt them is still up for debate.
“Where did you leave the package, Reg?”
“It’s on the loading dock.”
“Thanks. I’ll check it out.”
Pushing up from my chair, I head out of my office toward the back of the warehouse. The familiar shrill sounds of metal on metal envelop me as various technicians work on the cars parked in the bay. With Giovanni’s help, we’ve managed to hire a talented crew here. They do reputable work which brings in a decent amount of money. This funds this farce of a shop, but moreover, takes the attention away from my real job. Investigating my father’s criminal activity and anyone who could’ve been connected to my sister’s kidnapping.
Hell, it’s not a stretch to consider it was an inside job. It would be just like Vincenzo to use his own daughter to stage such an evil act of betrayal in order to publicly go after his rival. I’ve learned there’s no line he won’t cross.
“Hey, Archie.” I wave at one of the new hires as I stroll by, attempting to stay nonchalant about the fact this delivery could be anything from weapons to sex toys, knowing Giovanni. Retrieving my phone, I dial his number.
“Hey, cugino.”
I attempt to keep my voice as low as I can, yet still be audible over the piercing sounds of the work behind me. “We got a delivery to a G. Black at the body shop. Any idea what it is before I risk opening it here?”
“It’s likely ammo. Security needed to reorder.”
“Shit. Didn’t realize you went through that much of it there,” I blurt, a bit stunned.
He chuckles. “We don’t. They occasionally have target practice at the farm.” I’ve learned the farm is a rural space one of his billionaire sex club members owns. He allows hunting and target practice on his property so they can stay off of everyone’s radar.
“Got it. I never quite know what I might be opening up.”
Another rumble of laughter comes through the receiver. “No floggers this time.”
“Warn a guy before you send that shit here.”
“Guns and ammo are no big deal, but you draw the line at whips and chains, huh?”
“For fuck’s sake.” I snort. “I don’t want some unsuspecting guy opening what he thinks is a box of shiny chrome fixtures, only to discover butt plugs.”
“Work hazards.” G laughs. “Hey, I’m actually glad you called. Why don’t you bring the package and meet me at Luigi’s for dinner? Max told me he’s found something on the dark web he wants to run by you.”
My spine stiffens as a chill runs through my body. “What is it?”
“He didn’t say. Wanted to wait until he could meet in person.”
“Eight o’clock okay?” Not sure where Max will be coming from, but Giovanni has to travel almost two hours to get to Hanover now that I’m back at my place. Not that it takes him long, given he flies to and from in his personal helicopter.
“Yes. Luigi said the private room is open. We’ll meet you there.”
Glancing at my watch as I open the door to Luigi’s, I note it’s 7:55. The place is quite busy for a Wednesday evening, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Luigi has made a real name for himself in this town. Great food at affordable prices with portion sizes that are quite large. This, coupled with impeccable service in a setting perfect for couples and families alike, keeps his restaurant thriving.
The dimly lit room is full of tables draped with white table linens and flames dancing throughout the space. The walls are trimmed in deep red, the furniture and bar a rich mahogany. Servers clad in black slacks and white-collared shirts weave through the various diners with drinks and delectable dishes, an aroma of rich tomato and Italian herbs permeating the air.
One of the servers I recognize looks up and smiles. Giving a curt nod, I continue to the back of the restaurant. I’m anxious to find out what Max Wilde has discovered. He’s never asked to meet in person before and honestly, it has me on edge.
“Matteo,” Luigi greets, and I pull him in for a pat on the back. “I’ll bring dinner in once Giovanni and Max arrive.”
“He filled you in?”
“Not really. Only that they were coming to meet and wanted some privacy.”
“Luigi, Matteo.”
Turning, I find my cousin walking in wearing his customary work attire, a bespoke three-piece suit, alongside Max, who’s wearing dark jeans and a white button down. For a billionaire, he’s usually dressed pretty casually. But from what G says, these tech billionaires are a different breed. Just as content behind a laptop in casual wear and glasses than out in public in designer clothing.
Max proffers his hand in greeting to Luigi, then me, before taking a seat at the table. He’s a pretty down-to-earth guy from what I’ve observed during our interactions at The Devil’s Playground. While he’s an attractive man, he isn’t a pompous, reckless playboy like several of Giovanni’s other billionaire friends.
Sitting here at the table with Luigi, Giovanni, and I, our differences are stark. Max stands about six foot three with dark blond hair and blue eyes, while the three of us are olive-skinned with dark hair and tattoos. Well, Luigi doesn’t have much ink. Just a few he got during his youth that remain well hidden under his business attire.
Servers start to trickle in, placing large dishes of antipasto, Caesar salad, lasagna, spaghetti Bolognese, and crusty bread in the center of the table.
Luigi reaches for a bottle of Chianti and fills our glasses. Well, all but mine. “Thank you, Adrianna. That will be all for now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the last server has left the space, I look to Max. “I apologize. I should let you enjoy this delicious meal Luigi has prepared for us, but Giovanni’s call has had me on edge most of the day.”
“I understand. This could be nothing, Matteo. However, it felt important I come in person. I’m not entirely sure I understood all of what I was seeing and felt it would be best to have you translate and determine what, if anything, applied to your father.”
His words ease some of the anxiety I’m feeling.
“Let’s eat. Then we can go over everything,” Giovanni encourages. He’s right. It’d be rude to discuss business without eating first. Not to mention, if this is a serious concern from my father’s camp, I likely will have no appetite afterward.
“How has Luca been doing?” Max asks.
“He’s been doing well,” I answer as I scoop a modest portion of spaghetti Bolognese onto my plate. The scent of tomato and herbs entwined with long strands of fresh pasta teases my senses. As often as I’ve enjoyed this dish here, it never ceases to make my mouth water.
Max had helped Giovanni arrange for Luca and his family to acquire new identities, passports, and fly under the radar to their new home in Jamaica. Thinking of my little brother and his family causes my chest to tighten. “He hasn’t made a trip back home since he left for Jamaica, has he?”
“No.” I peer up to see Luigi and G looking at me with a bit of surprise. My answer sounds terse, betraying my emotions. I’d taken seeing my brother for granted when he was here. Add to that, the knowledge that he’d managed to find his forever family and build a life with them had made me more jealous than I liked to admit. Even to myself.
“How is Luna, Luigi?” Giovanni asks.
“She’s good. She has good days and bad days, but more of the former than the latter lately.”
“That’s great. And Mimmo is doing good in school?”
Luigi leans back in his chair, a sense of pride taking over his features. “Oh, that boy. He’s so smart. And already got his sights on a girl in his class. I told him to stay focused on his classwork and to save the ladies for when he’s older.” He chuckles.
“Has he been able to video chat with Luca’s kids in Jamaica?”
“Yes. Thank you, Max, for setting up an encrypted line of communication for them. They don’t do it often, but it has been nice to stay in touch with them. He misses Scar.”
I chuckle at the silly nickname Luca and Jillian’s son came up with. They really have great kids. Reaching up, I rub at my sternum. That ache is back.
“You okay, Matteo?” Luigi wears a concerned expression.
“I’m fine. Worrying about what Max may have found has given me heartburn.” I take a sip of my water, curious as to what has made me so emotional. Being on edge all day has taken its toll, apparently.
As dinner comes to a close, Luigi summons his staff to clear the table, and Max retrieves his laptop as a tray of expressos is brought in. Pulling a chair close enough to Max that I can easily decipher what has him alarmed, I sit impatiently, wringing my hands in my lap. Somehow, I know before he starts, this isn’t good. He wouldn’t have come all this way unless he considered this a credible threat.
“There’s a lot of chatter about business going international, sounding as if they are coming to the United States to recruit women for their high-end brothels.” Overseas sex trafficking. Like they haven’t ruined enough girls’ lives in their own backyard, they have to come here to find more. For what? To charge a higher premium because they’re American? Perhaps Vincenzo has alienated enough Italian women he needs to trap some who’ve never heard of him. Or is this merely a convenient excuse to come here and take care of his personal family business?
Then I see it. My eyes drop to the screen and my stomach plummets. Fuck .
Il Bianchi dottore. Falla sparire. (The Bianchi doctor. Make her disappear.)
“What is it, Matteo?” Luigi asks, I’m sure concerned by the hard set of my jaw.
“They’ve put a fucking hit out on my wife!” Slamming my fists into the table, I rise to my full height, unable to sit still. The need to run to her, warring with the overwhelming desire to open a damn bottle of whiskey.
I run my hands through my hair, near frantic. “We need to step up security. No more of this amateur shit. I want cameras in her house, her job, her car. I need two people on her at all times. And if they so much as need to take a fucking piss, they better have someone stand in for them.”
“Matteo, calm down,” Giovanni scolds.
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! My wife has the barrel of a gun pointed at her head.”
“Son.” Luigi stands dropping his voice, attempting to reel me in as he comes closer. “We’re only saying to talk this out. Let’s come up with a reasonable plan.”
“Yes, before the diners in Luigi’s restaurant call the cops after hearing your outburst,” Giovanni adds.
My head drops between my shoulders. They’re right. Turning away from them, I run my hand through my hair, trying to get my emotions under control so I can think logically. But it’s hard to concentrate when I want to knock back a bottle of bourbon and convince Sydney to go into hiding with me.
But that’s the whole issue. She’d do just that if I let her. She’d give up everything she’s worked for. Her career. Her dreams for the future. Everything.
For me.
“I need to be there. She’d be best protected with me there,” I mutter.
“Well, after what you did to her, that’s not going to happen,” Giovanni jabs.
I can’t help but glare. Even if it’s the damn truth.
My own father. He couldn’t put the hit out on me. That would be too fuckin’ easy. Has to hit me where it really hurts. “I’m going to make him pay, one way or the other. My preference is to put a bullet through his skull. I don’t even need to boast about it once he’s finito. ( finished ) Hell, I’ll give the Grassos the credit.” I pace. “I want him to rot in hell; the sooner, the better.”
“Was there any reference to Antonia or the boy?” Luigi asks.
“Not that I could see.”
“Same,” Max adds. “Am I reading the other things correctly? He won’t be coming to the U.S. but will be sending his minions?”
“Yes. It’d be too high-profile for him to come here. Plus, he’s never had any interest in coming to America. He has too many underlings kissing his feet in Italy to go anywhere else,” Giovanni adds.
“If I need to, I’ll go back home. To take him out.”
“Okay, Matteo. One step at a time. Let’s get a plan in place for Sydney.”
“I need round-the-clock security on her. And the ability to identify anyone and everyone she interacts with.”
“Consider it done, boss,” Anthony chimes in from the corner of the room. While he technically works as Giovanni’s head of security, he’s always stepped up whenever I’ve needed anything. “Just name the time and place, and I’ll bring everything we need to cover her at work, home, and her car.”
“Thank you.”
Luigi comes closer. “Matteo, we’re family. We will all work together to protect her. Don’t worry. You can’t do this alone. You need to let us help you.”
So, I don’t fall off the wagon again. I hear what he’s saying. And he’s not wrong. But my only concern is Sydney right now.
The following morning, I’m up with a greater sense of purpose than I’ve felt in years. I barely slept for replaying those words in my head. Falla sparire. (Make her disappear.) Hopping out of bed, I grab my phone and message Anthony that I plan to start placing cameras everywhere today as soon as I’m done in the gym. No motivation to get back to it like the need to kick someone’s ass.
There’s no doubt Anthony will come through for me. G’s security team is top-notch. Between the high rollers he needs to protect at his club, his affiliation with me and my siblings, and some shady business dealings I don’t even want to know about, Giovanni has to keep a crew of highly trained men at his disposal.
I remind Anthony I’ll need someone to get access to Sydney’s surgical schedule, so we have a better idea of her location at all times. I blast another rapid fire text requesting he only put his best, most reliable men on her security detail. Once he replies to the affirmative, I hit the gym and prepare for a long day and night.
An hour later, after a quick shower, I throw on black jeans and a black shirt, grab my keys, and head for the door. I’ll meet Anthony at Sydney’s and enter when she’s at work to place internal cameras in enough locations to feel confident she’s safe. We’ve had the exterior of the home monitored for years. This felt like enough.
Until now.
There’s no risking it. If someone enters her home without setting off an alarm, at least we can monitor for suspicious activity inside. This would be much easier if she hadn’t decided now is the time to open her home and her heart to someone new.
My replacement.