Chapter Twelve
Matteo
The sun is too bright, the voices too loud. I shift in my chair, eyes scanning the sunny terrace where the brunch is in full swing. The white linen tablecloths ripple in the breeze, cups clink against saucers and silverware glints under the light. Everyone looks happy and relaxed.
Except me.
I keep glancing at the entrance, waiting, hoping. But she’s not coming, obviously.
I casually ask Lily about Erin, trying to keep my voice flat and my expression unreadable. “She had too much champagne,” Lily says with a soft smile, brushing it off. “She texted me this morning. Said she’ll skip and come next Sunday instead.”
Too much champagne. I exhale slowly, trying not to let the guilt consume me.
I don’t know what I expected, maybe that she’d pretend nothing happened and come anyway.
Maybe that she’d flash one of those too-bright smiles and keep up the illusion we were nothing more than two strangers orbiting the same world.
But she’s not here. And the empty chair at her place feels like a spotlight aimed right at my shame.
Across from me, Luc is saying something. I nod absently, then realize the table has gone quiet.
“You good, man?” Luc leans closer, lowering his voice. “You seem…off.”
I school my face into a neutral mask and shrug. “Didn’t sleep much.”
It’s not a lie, per se. Because I’ve been awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling of my penthouse suite with the ghost of her scent on my skin and the echo of her kiss burning into my memory.
She took my breath away last night.
That dress… Christ. It clung to her like a second skin—the bodice hugging her every curve made her look like temptation incarnate, to the point that I couldn’t look anywhere else but at her.
I can’t forget the feel of the soft fabric under my fingers, or the color, the exact same shade as her eyes when I drowned in her gaze while we danced.
Her hair was swept up into a low bun, a few golden tendrils escaping to brush over her shoulders.
How I wished that it were my lips brushing over her porcelain skin instead. But of course I kept my distance.
I tried to stay away from her, watching her from across the room like a fucking creep.
But then she came to me, all sunshine and a blinding smile, challenging me to dance.
And I caved. Holding her against me, inhaling her sweet scent and looking into her violet eyes was the highlight of the evening.
Until she kissed me.
And I…panicked and pushed her away.
In hindsight, I realize I behaved like a callous bastard. I could have told her somewhere private, with kind, understanding words. But I barked at her in the middle of a crowded room.Fucking moron.
Goddamnit, she must be hating my guts, and she would be absolutely right.
I shift in my chair again. The conversation has moved on, I don’t know what’s being discussed and I don’t fucking care. All I can think about is the look in her eyes after I stepped back. She hid it well, brushed it off with a laugh, turned it into a joke. But I saw that I hurt her.
I should go to her and apologize. Be a damn adult about it. But the truth is, I don’t think she wants to see me right now. And maybe I don’t trust myself not to screw it up even more.
So I sit here, at fucking brunch with my coffee getting cold, wearing a perfectly tailored suit and a mask to hide my spiraling thoughts.
“… Teo?” D’s voice rips me out of my brooding and I snap my eyes up to his.
“Office, now.” He is a man of few words, but so am I. He kisses Lily on the forehead and stands, Luc following close behind. I get up and trail them inside into his office. Once the door is shut, he turns to me. “Did you see something happen at the gala? Lily is worried about her friend.”
I school my face into the usual impassive mask and shake my head. “It’s like Lily said, she had too much champagne. She mentioned some time ago that it gives her headaches. She got home safe, made it up to her condo and she’s still there.”
What I don’t say is that I reviewed every security camera feed in The Atrium to catch sight of her.
I watched her step through the front entrance, ride the elevator to her floor and finally slip quietly through her door.
What I also don’t say is how her face looked in that final frame—tired, vulnerable, and so heartbreakingly forlorn it took everything in me not to go after her and kiss her until that fire in her eyes came back.
“I can send the housekeeper there today to check on her,” I offer and D nods.
“Yeah do that, keep Lily updated. I don’t want her worrying.”
I already have my phone out and send off a text to Theodore, the concierge at The Atrium, asking him to send someone up to Erin’s apartment and report back.
D waits for me to finish and goes on. “What I wanted to discuss is the other problem . You mentioned that they’ve regrouped and now call themselves the Manticore?”
I let out a breath. “That’s what they call themselves, according to the recurring word I’ve intercepted in their communication.
One of them talked about pledging allegiance to Manticore.
Looks like Mancini was only the tip of the iceberg, his operation was almost self-contained.
What we’re looking at now is something else, something bigger than we’ve first assumed.
Their network goes deeper than we thought.
It’s well-funded, disciplined, and most likely spread across multiple cities. ”
Luc leans forward, voice low. “Have you been able to locate the leader? Someone has to be calling the shots.”
I shake my head. “That’s the problem. The entire structure is compartmentalized.
Cells operate independently from one another, each one only getting small pieces of their assignments.
Communication is routed through encrypted channels and burner nodes.
I’ve traced messages that vanish mid-route, like the system eats its own tail. ”
D frowns. “So you’re telling me this thing runs without a head?”
“No,” I say, jaw tightening. “I’m telling you the head is so well-hidden it’s like it doesn’t exist. Whoever’s running the Manticore is a shadow, he leaves no digital footprint, has no known aliases, there’s no direct line of communication, no recurrent patterns.
Orders pass through a dozen hands before they hit the streets.
And everyone we’ve managed to interrogate only know just enough to carry out their task, and not a shred more. ”
Luc curses under his breath. “Fucking great.”
“They’re smart,” I acknowledge reluctantly.
“Meticulous, even. This kind of operation only manages to remain this long under the radar by being paranoid. I’m working on infiltrating their communications, but even when I catch something, it’s always low-level like logistics, transfers, payments. Never strategy, and never identity.”
D leans back, processing. “Keep pressing, there’s always a crack. You just haven’t found it yet.”
I nod, though I feel the weight of how thin my patience is running. There’s always a crack, I tell myself, echoing D’s words, but I feel like we’re chasing shadows, and so far, the shadows are winning.
“And what about the Ghost?” Luc asks.
I grind my teeth so hard it’s a miracle they don’t crack. “What about him?” I snap. My voice is sharper than I intended, but I don’t care. “If unmasking a digital shadow was that easy, I’d have done it already. You want him identified? Be my fucking guest.”
Luc holds up both hands, brows shooting up.
“Whoa, chill. I wasn’t coming at you, all right?
I know you’re the best at this, you’ll nail him.
I simply thought you could…I don’t know, ask him to join forces?
If he hates trafficking, maybe there’s a chance he’d help us.
Two birds, one stone, something like that. That’s all.”
I exhale through my nose in a harsh, bitter sound. I know he means well, but today I’m a hair away from losing it. Everything lately feels like a weight pressing on my shoulders.
“I’ve tried,” I grind out. “I’ve reached out through secure back doors, left job offers on the message boards I’m sure he haunts. He’s ignored every damn one.”
Luc sighs, deflating. “Well, shit.”
“But…” I hesitate. “There was something. A few days ago someone tried to breach my system. They slipped past a couple firewalls, just enough to get my attention, then vanished.”
D’s eyes narrow. Luc stiffens.
“I think it was him even if I can’t prove it,” I continue, low and grim. “I traced the signal, it came from somewhere here, in Boston. I couldn’t get a precise location.”
That gets their attention. Luc lets out a low whistle.
“Could be him,” I add, voice low. “Or it could be someone else entirely. But my gut says it was him.”
“Boston,” D repeats, eyes narrowing. “You really think he’s here? Watching us?”
“I think he’s aware,” I grunt. “And maybe waiting. But whatever his angle is, I don’t trust him. And I’m not handing him a seat at the table until I know what he wants.”
“You going to act on the signal?” he asks.
“I’ve locked things down and rigged the whole system. If he comes back, I’ll catch him.”
Silence stretches in the room, heavy and taut.
“Shit,” Luc mutters under his breath. “That’s fucked up.”
You have no idea.