Chapter 16 Sandro
MATTEO'S TEXT HAD been simple: Service hallway. Second floor. Now.
I found him in a maintenance corridor behind the hotel kitchens. Elio and Luca were already there, forming a wall between Matteo and whatever lay beyond them. The smell of blood hit me before I saw the source.
Antonio Costello was on the floor, conscious but barely. His nose was definitely broken—blood streaming down his face and onto his tuxedo shirt. His right eye was already swelling shut. Matteo stood over him, knuckles split and bloody, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.
"What the fuck happened?" I asked, though I could piece it together well enough.
"He was running his mouth," Matteo said. His voice was low. Controlled. But I heard the rage simmering underneath. "About Emilio. About you. About how he was going to make sure your pretty lawyer boyfriend regretted defending scum like us."
I looked down at Antonio. "That's what he said?"
"Word for word. In front of a dozen people. Laughing about the bomb threat. Joking about what they'd do to Emilio if he didn't drop the case." Matteo's fists clenched. "So I gave him something to really laugh about."
Antonio tried to sit up. Matteo put a foot on his chest and pressed him back down. Not hard enough to break ribs but hard enough to make the point.
"You don't—" Antonio coughed, spitting blood. "You don't get to do this. Not here. Not in public."
"I just did." Matteo crouched down, getting in Antonio's face. "You threatened Emilio Rossi. You sent men to his apartment. You tried to terrorize him with fake bombs and death threats. Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences?"
"My father—"
"Your father's going to be very disappointed when he finds out about your gambling debts.
The ones you've been hiding. The ones that total almost three hundred thousand dollars.
" Matteo smiled. Cold. Vicious. "Yeah, we know about those.
We know everything about you, Antonio. And if you ever even think about Emilio Rossi again, we're going to make sure your father knows too. "
"We need to leave," Elio said quietly. His eyes were on the service elevator. "Hotel security does rounds every fifteen minutes. We've got maybe three before they find him."
"Let them find him," Matteo said, standing. "Let everyone see what happens when you threaten people under our protection."
"Matteo." I kept my voice level. "Elio's right. We leave now. Before this becomes a bigger problem than it already is."
"He threatened Emilio. He deserves worse than this."
"He absolutely does. But not here. Not now. Not with five hundred witnesses in the next room." I grabbed Matteo's shoulder. "You've made your point. He's bleeding and broken and he knows we're not fucking around. That's enough for tonight."
Matteo looked at me for a long moment. Then down at Antonio. Then back at me. "Fine. But if he tries anything else—"
"If he tries anything else, we'll handle it together. Permanently." I pulled him toward the service stairs. "Luca, make sure Antonio understands that talking about what just happened would be a very bad idea."
Luca crouched down where Matteo had been. His voice was quiet but I heard every word. "You're going to tell hotel security you slipped and fell. Hit your face on the railing. Clumsy accident. Very embarrassing. Do you understand?"
Antonio nodded shakily.
"Good. Because if you tell anyone what really happened, we won't just expose your gambling debts to your father.
We'll expose them to your bookies too. Let them know you've been lying about your ability to pay.
" Luca stood. "Those guys don't have our restraint.
They'll kill you and dump you in the river. So. Clumsy accident. Yes?"
"Yes," Antonio managed. "Accident."
We left him there bleeding and terrified. Took the service stairs down to the kitchen level. The staff barely glanced at us—they'd learned long ago that the best policy was to see nothing, know nothing, say nothing when it came to men in expensive suits moving through back corridors.
We emerged into a loading bay. Cool night air hit me like a slap. I pulled out my phone and texted Emilio: Had to handle something. Back shortly. Stay where you are.
His response came immediately: Everything okay?
Fine. Business thing. Back in five minutes.
I pocketed the phone and turned to Matteo. "Are you calm now?"
"Define calm."
"Can you walk back into that ballroom without beating anyone else bloody?"
He took a breath. Let it out slowly. "Yeah. I'm good."
"You're not good. You lost control." Elio's voice was sharp. "We're three weeks from trial. The prosecution would love nothing more than evidence that we're violent thugs who intimidate witnesses. You just gave them ammunition."
"He was threatening Emilio. In public. Laughing about it." Matteo's jaw was tight. "What was I supposed to do? Let him run his mouth?"
"Yes. Let him run his mouth. Ignore him. Report it to Sandro and let us handle it strategically." Elio stepped closer. "You're better than this, Matteo. You're smarter than this. Don't let Antonio Costello goad you into making mistakes."
"Elio's right," I said. "Antonio wanted a reaction. Wanted to prove we're dangerous. You gave him exactly what he wanted."
"I gave him a broken nose and a reminder that there are consequences for threatening people I—" Matteo stopped. Corrected himself. "People we protect."
I noticed the slip but didn't comment. "We need to get back inside.
Separately. Luca, you go first. Use the main entrance.
Make sure you're seen. Elio, you go through the kitchen.
I'll take Matteo through the side entrance by the bathrooms. We stagger our returns.
Make it look like we were just scattered around the event. "
They nodded and dispersed. I grabbed Matteo's arm before he could follow.
"Clean your knuckles. There's blood." I handed him my pocket square. "And Matteo? Thank you for defending Emilio. But next time, let me know before you shatter someone's face in a public venue."
"There won't be a next time. Antonio got the message." He wiped his knuckles clean. Most of the blood came off but his right hand was already swelling. "They all will."
We entered through the side corridor by the restrooms. A few people glanced our way but nobody questioned it. Just two men returning from wherever they'd been. Perfectly normal.
The ballroom was still packed. String quartet still playing. Donors still drinking and networking and pretending their charity absolved them of their various sins. Nobody looked alarmed. Nobody was whispering about violence or security incidents.
Good. Maybe we'd gotten out before anyone important noticed.
I scanned the crowd for Emilio and found him near the bar talking to Senator Williams. The senator was gesticulating enthusiastically about something—probably campaign finance reform, his pet issue. Emilio was nodding politely, looking engaged despite probably being bored out of his mind.
I approached and placed my hand on Emilio's waist. Possessive. Claiming. "Senator Williams. Always a pleasure. I hope you don't mind if I steal Emilio away. We have an early morning tomorrow."
"Of course, of course." The senator shook Emilio's hand. "It was lovely talking with you, Mr. Rossi. You've got a sharp mind. Vitale's lucky to have you."
"I'm the lucky one," Emilio said smoothly.
We moved toward the exit. I kept my hand on his back, guiding him through the crowd. Several people tried to stop us for conversation but I deflected with practiced ease. "Another time. Emilio's not feeling well. Need to get him home."
"I'm fine," Emilio said once we were out of earshot. "What's really going on?"
"I'll tell you in the car. Right now we need to leave before hotel security starts asking questions."
"Questions about what?"
"About why Antonio Costello is currently bleeding in a service hallway with a broken nose."
Emilio stopped walking. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. Matteo handled it." I kept moving, pulling him along. "And we're leaving before anyone connects us to the incident."
We made it to the valet station. I handed over the ticket and Thomas pulled up within two minutes. Professional as always. He took one look at my expression and didn't ask questions. Just opened the back door and waited for us to get in.
Emilio was quiet until we were in traffic. Then: "Tell me what happened."
"Antonio was running his mouth about you. Making threats. Joking about the bomb scare." I kept my voice neutral. "Matteo heard him and responded appropriately."
"Appropriately? You just said Antonio's bleeding with a broken nose."
"He is. And he deserved significantly worse for what he said." I turned to face him. "He was threatening you, Emilio. Publicly. Laughing about terrorizing you. What did you expect Matteo to do?"
"Not assault him at a charity gala in front of potential witnesses?"
"There were no witnesses. Matteo's not stupid. He grabbed Antonio in a service corridor. Handled it quickly. Left before anyone important saw." I caught his hand. "I know this isn't what you want to hear. But in my world, threats have consequences. Antonio learned that tonight."
"And what happens when he tells people what Matteo did? When he goes to the police? When this becomes another assault charge stacked on top of the one we're already defending?"
"He's not going to the police. He's going to say he fell. Hit his face on a railing. Embarrassing accident." I squeezed his hand. "Luca made sure he understood that any other story would be very bad for his health."
Emilio was quiet for a long moment. Processing. Probably cataloging all the ethical violations and criminal charges implicit in what I'd just described.
"You threatened a witness," he said finally.
"Luca suggested consequences for lying. That's different."