Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
brIAR
The drive to Moretti Global feels like sitting inside a pressure cooker. Lucien’s hand rests loosely on my leg, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. He’s the picture of control. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here trying to pretend I’m not reliving every second of last night.
Trying not to think of his hot skin, his commanding mouth, or his wicked hands.
Dear God, what was I thinking? I’m living under his roof, working for him—why did I let it happen? Or let it to continue to happen. Over and over again.
I curse myself for being so utterly powerless when it comes to him. One look, one touch, and I’m toast. I cannot help myself.
The car pulls up to a smooth stop before the office.
The line of Moretti security is subtle enough for an ignorant person to overlook, but not me.
I know the quiet, predatory stance of men who are paid to watch for danger.
I lived with those shadows for years, and since the attack on me a few days ago, that security has only increased.
Lucien’s driver cuts the engine. I reach for the door handle like it’s a lifeline. I need air. I need to think clearly, which I can’t ever seem to do when I’m around him.
“Briar.”
Just my name. Low. Controlled. A reminder of everything I should be doing. A reminder of what I didn’t want for my life when I returned to New York and yet seemed to have slipped straight into without a second thought.
I inhale. “Yes?”
“You didn’t sleep well last night, and you seem off.” He doesn’t look at me. “What’s wrong?”
My chest tightens. I don’t want him to know that I lay awake replaying every moment of his body on mine, trying to smother the shame and the wanting tangled together inside me.
That the hunger for Lucien warred with a part of me that was scared of his world.
He was clean, lived a life away from the crime world that once plagued my life and his father’s, but still it hovered in the shadows, forever a threat.
“I have a lot on my mind,” I murmur. “That’s all.”
“Hmm.”
That’s all he gives me. A non-answer that makes my stomach twist. He regrets me and what we’ve done.
Of course that’s where my mind goes. Forever insecure after what Matteo did to me.
I’m trouble he doesn’t need. Somehow in doing what I thought was right, I’d brought the underworld back to his door.
We exit the car without another word spoken and walk toward the elevator. His stride is smooth, confident. Mine is small, controlled, nervous. The memory of his hands on my hips nearly trips me up.
Inside the elevator, the silence stretches between us.
He keeps space between us, but it doesn’t matter.
My body remembers him far too vividly for distance to help.
How was I to work, pretend that I wasn’t sleeping with the boss?
Wasn’t putting everyone who worked here in possible danger, just because I made a mistake and married the wrong man.
When the doors open on the office floor, I step out quickly. Air. I need air that isn’t tainted by his scent.
“I’m going to get a coffee,” I say, waiting for the elevator that’s going down. “Do you want one?”
“No.” His tone is clipped. “And you aren’t going alone.”
I swallow. “Lucien, I’m fine. These are your offices. Matteo wouldn’t dare seek me out here.”
“You’re not going alone.” There’s the edge to his tone. The authority. The darkness under the tailored suit. No, not darkness—protection. But protection always comes with a cost. I learned that the hard way.
I force my voice to stay steady. “I need five minutes. Alone.”
His jaw flexes. A silent war behind his eyes. Then he nods once. “Anthony is downstairs. He’ll watch from a distance.”
I don’t fight it. I’ve fought enough. I simply nod and wait for the elevator.
Thankfully a door opens and I jump in without another word.
The lobby café is busy enough to feel safe, but I’m still painfully aware of Anthony’s presence twenty feet away.
He pretends to look at pastries. I pretend not to notice.
I’m reaching for my wallet when someone steps close behind me.
Too close. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Not here. Not now. Please, God, not here.
A man’s chest brushes my back, his voice barely above a breath. “Morning, Mrs. Romero.”
My vision swims for a second. I turn slowly. Not Matteo. But one of his henchmen—young, tattooed, smiling with dead eyes.
“I’m not—” My throat tightens. “I’m not her anymore, you need to leave.”
He slips a folded note into my hand. “He wants you home.”
My skin goes cold.
“He knows where you’re sleeping.” The man’s smile widens. “Nice penthouse loft.”
My heart stumbles painfully in my chest. Anthony appears out of nowhere, stepping between us. The man backs away calmly, hands raised in mock surrender, disappearing into the crowd like smoke.
Anthony steers me toward the elevators. “Did he hurt you?” he asks roughly.
I shake my head—but it’s a lie. He cut open the one wound I’ve barely stitched together.
Matteo knows where I live. Matteo knows about Lucien.
Matteo isn’t done and I’m not safe anywhere.
When we reach the elevator, my legs feel like water.
And somewhere above me, Lucien Moretti has no idea that the clean life he built so carefully just cracked around the edges even more.
Anthony’s message hits my phone with a violence I feel in my chest.
Need you in lobby. Now.
I’m already moving. I take the stairs two at a time. Elevators are too slow.
When I reach the lobby, Anthony is guiding Briar toward the elevators. She looks like she’s been hollowed out from the inside. Pale, trembling, eyes unfocused. What the hell happened. I’d barely left her but ten minutes. I’ll kill anyone who’s frightened her…
I clamp down on the thought. Hard. That is my father’s voice inside me. Leo Moretti would react without thinking, without restraint. I’m not him. I built everything I have to prove I’m not him. But when I see Briar like this, the old instincts surge like blood memory.
“What happened?” I demand, ushering them into the elevator and putting myself between Briar and the world.
Anthony answers, jaw tight, “One of Romero’s lads approached her. Inside our building.”
My breath leaves in a slow, lethal exhale.
Inside.
My.
Building.
That isn’t a message. It’s a declaration of war. “Inform security,” I tell Anthony. “Lock down the footage. I want every angle. I want to know who it was.”
He nods and vanishes into the foyer as the doors finally close.
Briar tries to speak. “Lucien—”
“No,” I snap, pushing the button to my office floor. “We’ll speak when we’re safe upstairs.”
She flinches and my chest cracks. Damn it.
I never want her scared of me or not feel like she can tell me anything.
I only want her safe. We reach the floor and I guide her to my office, closing and locking the door behind us.
She stands in the middle of my office, and I can see she’s trying to gather herself. Her pulse flutters quick at her throat.
“What did he say?” I ask, forcing my voice into something human.
She hesitates. And the hesitation cuts deeper than any confession.
“Don’t lie to me,” I say quietly.
She closes her eyes. “I’m trying not to fall apart.”
Something inside me twists sharply. Because of him. Because of what he made her. Because I can’t protect her from the past that still owns her.
I step closer. “Briar. Tell me.”
Her voice trembles. “He called me Mrs. Romero and handed me this note.” She holds it out in her hand as if it were something foreign, her arm so unsteady that the paper wobbles on her palm.
“And he said Matteo wants me home.”
I taste blood. I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek hard enough to split skin. I reach for the note.
Four words.
I never let go.
My vision edges dark for a moment. Romero’s henchmen touched her. He got close enough to smell her hair. He will never do that again. I’ll bury him before that happens again.
I force air into my lungs.
Control. I need to control my instinct.
I look at her. At the fear she’s trying to mask. At the strength she doesn’t know she carries.
“Briar,” I say, voice low, steady only because I lock every muscle to keep it that way. “I will not let him hurt you again.”
Her eyes glisten. “Lucien…please don’t do something you can’t come back from.
I can’t live in the underworld again. I can’t live in fear, from both inside my home and out.
I just can’t.” She pauses. “Promise me everything you’ll do to fight Matteo will be legal.
That you’ll call the cops and have them deal with his threats. ”
I inhale sharply. She sees it. She sees the darkness in me. And she’s afraid I’ll step into the world she barely escaped. “I’m not him,” I say, cupping her jaw gently. “I’m not Matteo. And I’m not my father.”
Her breath shivers out. “Then don’t become that man for me.”
The words hit harder than any blow. Because I don’t know if I can protect her without breaking the rules I built my empire on. And I don’t know if I can stay clean… Not when Matteo Romero is hunting the woman standing in front of me.