Chapter 8
GIOVANNI
Matteo’s office smells like old paper and espresso.
I sit across from him while he flips through a folder. His narrowed gaze is filled with annoyance, and his jaw right in irritation. The windows behind him look out over the bustle of Brooklyn.
“Anton and Georg Pavlov,” he says, tapping the file. “Still ghosts.”
“No sightings?” I ask.
“No solid ones. A shell company here. A burner there. Nothing we can grab.”
I nod once. I don’t like it, but I’m not surprised. The Pavlov brothers don’t step into the light unless they’re ready to burn something down.
Matteo closes the folder and leans back. “That’s all I’ve got for now.”
There’s a pause. I let it stretch.
“There’s something else,” I say.
His eyes lift. Sharp. “Of course there is.”
“Amber’s worried about her friend. Rose.”
The air in the room changes.
Matteo doesn’t speak right away. His expression doesn’t shift, but his shoulders go rigid.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where she is,” I add.
He stares at me. “You think I did something to her?”
“I think we’re friends,” I say evenly. “And I’d like to stay that way.”
The implication hangs between us. Clear enough.
Matteo exhales through his nose, a short, sharp sound. “You think I’m in the business of kidnapping girls now?”
“I think if you were,” I reply, “I’d need to know.”
For a moment, I’m not sure how he’ll take that.
Then he huffs a laugh, humorless. “Jesus, Gio.” He rubs a hand over his face. “It was the stalker.”
I still.
“He tried to grab her last night,” he explains. “I don’t know if he’s doing it all alone or someone sent him, but he tried something shitty last night.”
“And?” I ask.
“And I stopped it.” His gaze sharpens. “Took her somewhere safe.”
I let out a slow breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“That sounds just like you,” I say.
Matteo tilts his head. “You believe me now, or do you want to sweep my place while you’re here?” There’s an edge to it. Displeasure. Maybe a little insult.
“I believe you,” I say.
The tension eases, just a fraction.
Matteo leans back in his chair again. “Good. I trust you'll keep this between us.”
I narrow my eyes slightly. “She’s worried.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s exactly why.” He leans forward now, forearms on the desk. “If the stalker gets even a hint that Rose is safe, or where she is, he’ll adjust. He’ll move. Or worse, he’ll try again.”
The words settle heavy.
“She’s better off thinking Rose is sick,” Matteo adds quietly. “For now.”
I hold his gaze, weighing it.
It’s a good-news-bad-news situation. On one hand, Rose is alive. On the other, I can’t tell Amber shit because the stalker might be listening.
Fuck.
But in the end, I can’t say no to Matteo. His request is reasonable. It’s the smart thing to do, no matter how badly it fucks me in the ass.
I nod, slow. “You’ll have my discretion.”
“Thank you.”
I nod. Rose is alive, and whoever went after her is still out there.
“I think Rose should reach out to Amber,” I say. “She’s concerned. She’s asking questions.”
Matteo shakes his head. “Not yet. I don’t want to put Rose at risk.”
I frown. Now, that’s being a little too protective. “Amber deserves to know her friend is safe.”
“Rose deserves to stay alive,” he counters. “If the stalker is listening—and we have to assume he is—any slip gives him leverage. Worse, if he can trace her, a call will lead him right to her.” He pauses, then adds, “We also can’t rule out Amber.”
I stiffen as the last of those words leave his lips. “That’s ridiculous.”
“The people closest to us are often the ones who betray us,” Matteo says calmly. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Amber isn’t dangerous,” I say. The words come out faster than I intend.
Matteo’s eyes narrow. “And that’s exactly why you need to be careful your judgment isn’t clouded.”
I don’t respond right away. I don’t like the implication. I like even less that part of me knows he’s not wrong.
“I’ll keep her at bay,” I say finally. “As long as I can.”
He nods. "I'll tell you when the stalker has been disposed of."
Disposed of. Such a prim phrasing for the bloody end he's planning. Because if I know Matteo, and I do, whoever dared touch his little flower will not get the luxury of a quick death.
Now I just have to figure out what to tell Amber.