Chapter 8 #2
Now that we’re working together with Mariella to assist her with the Aegis network, I know these identities couldn’t have come from them.
The IDs Mariella and her team use to get women out of the country are low-profile and only meant to be used once before they swap them out.
Chantel’s are designed for longevity. Something that could hold up under scrutiny for years.
That kind of protection doesn’t come from a friend of a friend.
It comes from large, well-organized syndicates like our rivals.
“See what you can find out about these.” I remove them from the box and hand them to my brother. “Anything on the names or who might have made them. I’ll keep an eye on her in the meantime.”
He nods, but concern lingers in his eyes. If we don’t know who she’s connected to, it’s a liability. Until I know her real identity, I’ll need her under constant surveillance.
I replace the cash in the lockbox, and Romeo tucks it back into the vent it came from.
“I want her name in our security systems,” I tell him. “Let everyone know she belongs to us. If she is in contact with anyone, that will give them something to talk about.”
“I’ll get it done. You want me to pull some guards for her?”
“Yes, but have them keep a low profile. I’ll need access to her phone too.”
“If you want to flush out her connections, you should make some public appearances with her.”
I scrape a hand over my face as I consider it.
On the surface, it makes sense. If she has connections in this city, I need to know who she interacts with, and more importantly, who might be watching her.
But the timing couldn’t be worse. Having Chantel at my side won’t help me curry favor with Bastien, and explaining the reason behind it would be even worse.
If he thinks we have a potential spy in our midst, he won’t just walk. He’ll run.
Regardless, Romeo decides for me when he kicks the hornet’s nest.
“If that’s a problem, I can ask Rafe or Michele. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“Would love to.” Rafe smirks in my direction. “Just say the word, and I’ll show her the time of her life—"
“Vaffanculo.” I level them both with my gaze.
Romeo looks annoyingly pleased with himself as he exchanges a glance with Rafe. I ignore them while I question my sanity.
Ten minutes ago, I was prepared to get Chantel situated and leave, like I should. Now I’ve lit the fuse to my destruction, because there’s no way this can end well.
Naturally, Chantel chooses that moment to appear at the end of the hall, staring at the scene before her in confusion. And of course, she’s wearing a cropped black tank top with the word Brat imprinted across the front and a matching pair of barely there shorts.
Rafe glances at her and shoots me another smirk before I threaten to cut his balls off in Italian. I swear to God my brothers were put on this earth to test me.
“Put this on.” I grab a throw blanket from the sofa and toss it at Chantel.
She looks like she wants to challenge me, but ultimately, she’s more concerned about the activity currently taking place in her living room. So she wraps the blanket around herself as her gaze moves between Romeo and Rafe.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“We’re making your house more secure.”
A flush crawls down her throat as she shakes her head, predictably freaking out.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Mariella and Abella will be here soon,” I tell her. “We’ll finish up while you eat breakfast.”
She doesn’t respond, and her avoidance isn’t unexpected after how vulnerable she was last night. But it makes me fucking itchy when she refuses to meet my gaze and focuses only on my brothers.
“What are you doing to my front door?” she asks Rafe.
“Replacing it with solid core steel.” He knocks on the surface. “Can’t get much more secure than that.”
“And what is all that?” She gestures vaguely at Romeo.
“It’s an alarm system,” he grunts. “Cristian will go over it with you when it’s set up.”
She frowns at that idea, and appears even less thrilled about accepting this kind of help. Fortunately, Mariella chooses that exact moment to arrive, offering her a distraction.
“I brought carbs and coffee.” She holds up two large bags as she walks through the door.
Rafe perks up. “What did Nonna send? I’m fucking starving.”
“Cornetti, Bomboloni, Crostata, fresh-baked bread, and of course, her homemade jam.” She laughs.
“Thank you, Nonna.” He groans in relief as he snatches the bags and carries them to the kitchen.
“Hey.” Mariella greets Chantel. “Nonna also sent you biscotti and pizzelles. She says they cure all ails.”
“So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong my whole life.” Chantel smiles.
“Oh, and this.” Mariella retrieves a small box from her pocket, handing it over. “She said you should use it right away.”
Chantel gives the box a curious glance before she unwraps it, and when she unveils the gift, something tightens in my chest.
I’m not the only one. Mariella lets out a soft sound of surprise before she and I exchange a look.
“What?” Chantel glances between us. “Am I missing something?”
I let Mariella take the lead on this one. I’m relieved when she omits the fact that Nonna has only ever reserved these gold necklaces for one specific purpose.
“It’s a cornicello,” she explains. “It protects from the evil eye.”
“I guess we’ll be twins,” Chantel muses, eyeing Mariella’s neck.
“I guess we will,” Mariella says. “You ready for coffee and a chat?”
Chantel nods, and they take a seat at the kitchen table, talking quietly amongst themselves as we continue to work.
When there’s another knock at the door, I expect it will be Angelo and Abella. But when I open it, I find Marco standing on the other side with two black eyes, a bent nose, and a mouth caked with dried blood.
He blinks slowly as he processes the fact that I’m inside Chantel’s house, which is somewhere he’s never been before. The wheels in his brain turn at a snail’s pace, and he doesn’t like where his thoughts are taking him.
I let him swim in that misery until he finally manages to string together a sentence.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he slurs through broken teeth.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” I narrow my gaze at him, wondering why the fuck I didn’t finish what I started last night.
“This is my girlfriend’s house, in case you forgot.” He tries to barge past me, but I block his entrance.
“Not anymore.”
“Fuck you,” he spits. “This is between me and Chantel, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.”
“You want to talk to her?” I shrug. “I’m the only thing standing in your way.”
He sizes me up, knowing he couldn’t take me on his best day. Then, like the coward he is, he starts calling for her over my shoulder.
“Chantel, we need to talk. You know I was drunk last night. Just give me a chance to explain.”
Chantel doesn’t answer him, but Mariella does.
“Is that Marco?”
“The one and only.”
“Oh good.” She joins me at the door, edging her way in beside me. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you.”
“What?” He scowls at her.
She punches him in the solar plexus, and he staggers back, choking on air before she hits him with a palm strike to the nose.
He goes down, blood spewing out of him like a fountain, but she isn’t finished. She presses her heel into his neck, pinning him there as she leans down to make sure he hears her.
“If you don’t leave her alone, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you. Then I’ll take every one of your vital organs and give them to people who actually deserve to breathe.”
Rafe squeezes his way in, popping his head out the door to witness the spectacle.
“Jesus, Ari,” he mutters. “You fucked him up.”
“Did you expect anything less?” Mariella smirks. “My brothers taught me well.”
Marco wheezes, trying to say something, but the words don’t fully form. Satisfied that she’s gotten her point across, Mariella breezes back to the kitchen while I watch Marco writhe in pain.
“You have thirty seconds to get off her porch,” I tell him. “And if you ever come near her again, I’ll make what Mariella just did feel like a fucking picnic.”
I close the door on him, and when I turn around, Chantel’s gaze catches mine.
We linger in that moment for far too long before she forces herself to look away. But I didn’t miss what I saw there.
For all her claims of independence, there’s still a part of her that needed that. And if the concern in her eyes is any indication, she liked it far more than she wants to admit.