Chapter 6 #2
He smiles again, sharp and knowing, like he’s already two steps ahead. He won’t be for long. We leave without another word — Stephen at my side, our lawyer trailing, Briar close behind me clutching her notepad. The air outside the boardroom feels cooler, but the tension in my chest doesn’t ease.
It’s not until we reach the elevator that Stephen finally speaks, his voice low enough Briar probably can’t hear. “He’s up to something.”
“I know,” I mutter, staring at our reflections in the mirrored doors.
Briar doesn’t say a word, but I can feel her watching me. Matteo’s little jab won’t leave my head.
Whatever he meant by it, it wasn’t just about this deal.
In the elevator down, she stays silent, clutching her folder like a shield. “You know him,” I say. It’s not a question.
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “No. I don’t.”
She lies badly. I don’t press her here, not where the walls have ears, but the protective instinct that has been simmering quietly since she started working for me sharpens into something harder, something closer to possession.
My brother meets my eyes in the elevator reflection and lifts a knowing brow.
Romero showing up is no longer a coincidence.
That he owns part of the building we want to purchase to increase our portfolio in real estate certainly wasn’t.
And if Briar is connected to him, even indirectly, she is leverage.
I don’t like leverage. I don’t like her or anyone being anywhere near danger, even if she doesn’t see it.
By the time we reach the car, I’ve decided two things.
Anthony is going to dig deeper into Romero’s movements.
And Briar Locke is going to tell me the truth before I find out another way.
Because I need to know exactly what kind of storm is circling me.
And how far I’m willing to go to keep her out of it.
I slide into the back seat of the car after her, pulling the door closed behind us. The moment the glass seals us off from the street noise, I meet her gaze. “Talk,” I say quietly.
She freezes, folder clutched tightly in her lap, and blinks at me. “About what?”
“You know exactly what.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, keeping my voice low and even. I don’t want to scare her, but I will if it means learning the truth. “Matteo Romero. You saw him in that meeting and went pale as death. I want to know why.”
Her fingers tighten around the edge of the folder until the paper creases beneath her grip. “I don’t know him,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I’ve never spoken to him.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
Her gaze flicks away, out the tinted window as the driver merges into traffic, but she doesn’t answer. The silence stretches until it scrapes along my nerves. I have patience, but that patience will only go so far.
“Briar,” I say, softer now but no less firm. “If Romero is circling my company, and you react like that when you see him, I need to know why.”
She exhales shakily, like the fight goes out of her all at once, and finally turns back to face me. Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Matteo Romero is my ex-husband.”
For a moment, I think I misheard her. “You were married,” I repeat slowly, “to Matteo Romero.”
How the fuck did I miss that? How did my security team miss it?
She nods once, small and tight, her throat working as though every word scrapes. As if the memory of her time with him causes her pain. “Yes.”
I sit back, the weight of that revelation slamming through me. Matteo Romero. The Matteo Romero. The man who used to run New York’s crime lords with an iron fist before the Feds took half his empire and he disappeared into the shadows. No one walks away from him. Not easily.
His father found that out the hard way.
I run a hand over my jaw, unable to comprehend the notion. “How long?” I ask, needing to know everything and how to move forward.
“Four years,” she says, her voice quiet but steady now, like she’s told this story in her head a thousand times and still hates every word of it.
“I met him when I was twenty-two. I didn’t know who he was when we met.
I was vacationing in Spain, and we met on a beach.
He was charming and didn’t show any sign of what he eventually would become before me…
toward me. He was generous, said all the right things.
I fell in love on that European holiday, and I thought I was marrying a successful businessman. ”
“And when did you realize you were wrong?”
Her laugh is soft and bitter. “Six months in. The charity events. The private parties. The men who would show up at all hours, whispering names I wasn’t supposed to hear. By the time I figured out who I was married to and what sort of business he ran, I was already in too deep.”
I watch her carefully, reading every flicker of expression across her face. There’s no deception here, only regret sharpened by something else.
Fear.
“You left him,” I say, not asking but confirming.
“I divorced him three years ago,” she says softly, lowering her gaze. “I took nothing. No money, no settlement, nothing that ties me to him. All I wanted was to be free.”
“And he let you go.”
She hesitates and bites her bottom lip. “He didn’t fight me, but it wasn’t an easy transition.
He made things difficult for me in other ways, and there were the threats, of course.
If I ever talk about anything I know, if I even whisper his name in the wrong ear, I’d regret it.
But in truth I think he only let me go because he went to jail.
His control on me from there wasn’t possible.
” She shrugs. “I didn’t know he was paroled. ”
My jaw locks as cold anger coils in my gut. I’ve dealt with men like Romero my entire life, but never like this, never with someone sitting across from me who has lived in his shadow.
His wife.
“And now he’s back,” I say.
She nods faintly. “I thought I was done with that world. I thought I was safe.” Her voice falters, quiet and raw.
“I didn’t think he’d ever come near me again if I started working for Moretti Global.
Even when we were married, he never mentioned you and I thought I’d be safer under your roof than any other, hidden in plain sight kind of situation, but I suppose I was wrong. ”
Suppose she was… I lean back, forcing my hands to unclench. Romero showing up in my orbit is one problem. Finding out Briar was once his wife changes everything.
“You should have told me this the day you started,” I say finally.
My voice is even, but it’s rougher than I intend.
“There is a good chance he’s found out that you’re working for me and that’s why he’s making himself known once more.
And if he only suspected it before, today he’s found the evidence he was looking for after that meeting. ”
“I wanted to tell you,” she blurted. “But I was so scared you wouldn’t hire me, and I really needed the job.
I’m sorry I kept it hidden. I didn’t want to drag anyone into the mess of my own making,” she whispers, finally meeting my eyes.
“I thought I’d left him behind. For years he’s not known where I was, and I thought returning to New York would finally be safe. I didn’t want this following me here.”
I hold her gaze, silent for a moment, weighing her fear against what I know of Matteo Romero. Nothing stays buried with men like him. Not marriages. Not debts. Not leverage.
I pull out my phone and send a single message to Anthony. I want every scrap of information we can dig up on Matteo Romero by tonight, along with tighter security around Briar, quiet and invisible.
She watches me, hesitant. “What are you going to do?”
I meet her gaze and hold it. “Make sure he never touches you. If he does, he’s dead.” Her breath catches, and something passes between us. Heaviness. Possibility. Danger.
“You would do that for me, even though I lied?”
Tears well in her eyes and I swallow down a curse. I hate seeing women cry, men I can handle, but women, not a chance. “I would, and I will.”
For the rest of the drive, neither of us speaks, but my mind doesn’t stop working. Matteo Romero once owned her. And if he thinks he can use her against me, he is going to find out just how wrong he is.
I may have cut ties to Romero’s world, but that doesn’t mean that there are not exceptions to that rule, especially if it means keeping those who work for me safe.
Keeping her safe.
Briar Locke…