11. A Game of Shadows
A Game of Shadows
Damian
From a distance, beyond the steady hum of the city and the soft laughter spilling from the terrace, I watch Nichole slip into her car. She doesn’t look back. She has no idea I’m still here. No idea that this wasn’t just some chance encounter.
It was the first step.
She thinks today was normal—a spa day, a lunch date, a brief brush with a man who happened to be in the right place at the right time. But I don’t believe in coincidences. Nothing about today was random. Nothing about today was accidental.
Exhaling slowly, I roll my sleeves up, leaning against the sleek black car parked across the street. She’s in my world now. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Enzo stands beside me, his arms crossed, his gaze following mine. “So? What do you think?”
I don’t answer right away. Because I already knew what I thought the second I laid eyes on her.
She’s nothing like the woman I’ve come to know in my dreams. She carries herself differently, speaks with an innocence that isn’t present in the dream mansion. There’s a guardedness in her, but not the same kind that shields Dream Nichole. This version of her doesn’t know me.
Not yet.
But she will.
Pushing off the car, I straighten my cuffs. “She’s going to fall for me.”
Enzo exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Confident, aren’t we?”
I glance at him, my smirk slow and deliberate. “I always am.”
As Nichole’s car disappears down the street, I don’t follow them. Not today.
I’ve already taken the first step—forcing another encounter too soon would be reckless. If I want Nichole to come to me, to want to see me again, I need to play this right.
Instead, I slide into the back seat of my car, nodding to Enzo as he pulls away from the curb. “Take me home.”
Enzo raises a brow but doesn’t question it, maneuvering the car smoothly through the afternoon traffic. I lean back against the seat, drumming my fingers against my knee, my mind already shifting to the next phase.
Nichole isn’t just some woman I happened to meet. She’s Antonio Beretti’s daughter.
And that means she’s part of something much bigger.
I pull out my phone, scrolling through the messages waiting for me. A few updates from my men, reports that I’d normally skim through, but one catches my eye.
Antonio Beretti.
I tap the file, my gaze narrowing as I scan the details. Every move he’s made over the last few years, every change in his business, every shift in power. He’s a man who’s stayed just on the edge of the shadows, never fully exposing his hand but never entirely hiding it either.
And now, for the first time in years, he’s brought someone new into his circle.
His daughter.
I glance out the window as the city rushes past, my thoughts sharpening. Why now? Why bring her in after all this time?
Something about this doesn’t sit right.
And if Antonio thinks he’s going to keep her locked away from the world, he’s mistaken.
Because I’m already inside.
The moment I step into my office, I pull out my phone and dial.
It rings twice before a gruff voice answers. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
I don’t bother with pleasantries. “I need more information.”
A sigh filters through the line. “On who?”
I pace toward the window, staring out at the city below. “Antonio Beretti.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, a low chuckle. “Now that’s a name I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Just find out what you can. And I need something else.” I pause, considering my words carefully. “Look into a kidnapping. A baby girl. It would’ve been years ago, right around the time Nichole was born.”
The shift in his tone is immediate. “You think Beretti was involved in something like that?”
I exhale slowly, gripping my phone tighter. “I don’t think anything yet. I want answers.”
My contact hums in thought. “Kidnappings don’t stay quiet. Someone always knows something.”
“Exactly.”
Another pause, then the faint sound of fingers typing against a keyboard. “Alright. Give me some time. If there’s a record of it, I’ll find it.”
“You have twenty-four hours.”
He snorts. “You really love these impossible deadlines, don’t you?”
I don’t respond. Because I’m not in the mood for small talk.
The line goes dead a second later, and I slide my phone onto the desk, exhaling through my nose.
This isn’t just about Nichole anymore.
This is about why Antonio has kept her hidden for so long.
And what it means that he’s finally bringing her into the light.
Information is power. But power means nothing without leverage.
Antonio has spent years keeping his secrets buried, but no one operates in this world without leaving a trail. Someone knows something.
And I intend to find them.
I step out of my office, nodding to Enzo as I grab my jacket. “We’re going out.”
He falls into step beside me, his expression neutral. “Where to?”
“The docks.”
Enzo’s brow lifts slightly. “Looking for someone specific?”
I slide into the back seat of the waiting car, rolling my sleeves up as he gets behind the wheel. “Someone who knows the Beretti family. Someone who talks.”
Enzo exhales a quiet chuckle as he starts the engine. “That’s a short list.”
“And an even shorter list of people still breathing,” I murmur, staring out the window as the city rushes past.
The docks have always been a hub for information—smugglers, old associates, people who make a living knowing things they shouldn’t. If Antonio has ghosts in his past, I’ll find someone who can drag them into the light.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a small, nondescript bar near the waterfront. A place where men sit with their backs to the walls, where the only rule is to mind your own business—unless you’re paid to do otherwise.
I step inside, the scent of stale liquor and smoke curling through the air. My gaze sweeps the room, locking onto a man near the back.
Paolo DeMarco.
An old smuggler, once useful to the Berettis before he outlived his worth. He’s been lying low for years, surviving off whatever scraps he can get. A man like that? He’ll talk.
If he knows what’s good for him.
I cross the room, sliding into the seat across from him. He barely looks up, but his fingers twitch around his glass.
He knows who I am.
Good.
I rest my forearms on the table, my voice low and measured. “Tell me about Antonio Beretti.”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t know anything.”
I smirk. “That’s a shame. Because I hear you need money.” I lean in slightly. “And I pay very well.”
He hesitates.
Everyone has a price.
I just need to find his.
Paolo doesn’t answer right away. He shifts in his seat, fingers curling around his glass, knuckles white against the cheap wood of the table.
He wants to talk. I can see it in the way his gaze flicks toward the door, as if debating whether he can walk away from this conversation unscathed.
He can’t.
I lean back, letting the silence stretch between us.
Patience is a game most men in this world don’t know how to play. But I do.
And right now, Paolo is playing right into my hands.
His throat bobs as he exhales sharply. “You really want to know about Antonio?”
I lift a brow, waiting.
He hesitates for only a second longer before he exhales again, rubbing a hand over his face. “The man isn’t just careful—he’s a ghost. Always has been. No one touches him. No one questions him.” His fingers drum against the table. “But you already know that.”
I nod slowly.
Paolo shifts, lowering his voice. “What you might not know is that Antonio’s greatest weakness isn’t his empire.” His lips press together for a beat before he mutters, “It’s his past.”
I narrow my eyes. “His past?”
He nods, glancing over his shoulder before leaning in slightly. “You asked about a kidnapping.” His voice is barely above a whisper now. “I wasn’t lying when I said people don’t touch Antonio, but this? This was different.”
Tension coils in my chest. “Keep talking.”
Paolo takes another swig of his drink before setting the glass down with a dull thud. “It was years ago. No one was supposed to know, but whispers have a way of finding the right ears. Antonio had a baby girl—young, just a few months old. One day, she vanished.”
My blood turns cold.
Paolo doesn’t notice—he keeps going. “They say he turned the whole city upside down looking for her. Didn’t sleep.
Didn’t stop. Didn’t care who he had to go through.
” He exhales sharply. “Then one day, just like that, it was over. No more searching. No more questions.” He shrugs.
“Most assumed she was dead. Some think he found her and buried the truth. No one really knows.”
I keep my expression unreadable. “But you think he found her.”
Paolo shrugs again. “Let’s just say a man like Antonio doesn’t stop unless he has a reason to.”
I glance down at my watch, my thoughts already spinning.
If this is true, if Antonio really did lose his daughter only to get her back in secret—then he’s been playing the long game.
And right now? I’m the only one who sees the full board.
I reach into my pocket, sliding a crisp stack of bills across the table. Paolo stares at them for only a second before snatching them up.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” I murmur, standing.
Paolo doesn’t answer, already tucking the money away as if that alone will erase this conversation.
It won’t.
Because now, I know the truth and that changes everything.
The moment I step outside, I pull out my phone and dial.
Enzo watches me from the driver’s seat, his expression unreadable, but he doesn’t need to ask. He knows that look in my eyes.
I don’t stop moving as the call connects. “I need something.”
A gruff voice answers on the other end. “What’s the job?”
I open the car door but don’t get in yet. My mind is too sharp, too focused. “DNA samples. One from Antonio Beretti. One from Nichole.”
The man on the other end exhales, clearly intrigued. “That’s a tall order.”
“Then I expect you to handle it with precision.” I glance up toward the sky, my grip tightening around my phone.
“I don’t care how you get it—a fingerprint, a used glass, a hairbrush—but I want both samples sealed and in a ziplock bag by tomorrow.
If possible. Since Nichole is staying at the Beretti’s, you can go to her apartment. Be discreet.”
A pause. Then, “Consider it done.”
I hang up, slipping my phone back into my pocket before climbing into the car.
Enzo starts driving, but his gaze flicks to me in the rearview mirror. “You really think she’s his daughter?”
I stare out the window, watching the city blur past. “I don’t assume. I confirm.”
Because in this world, truth is power.
And I intend to have all of it.
The order is set. Now, I wait.
But I don’t wait idly.
Enzo drives in silence, but I can feel his curiosity simmering beneath the surface. I don’t address it. Instead, I shift my focus to the next step.
Getting the DNA samples is just one part of the equation. The real challenge is getting close enough to Nichole to stay ahead of Antonio.
If Antonio really believes she’s his daughter, if he’s been keeping this buried for years, he won’t let her go so easily.
Which means I don’t have time to waste.
I pull out my phone again, this time calling another contact—someone who operates in more refined circles. Someone who can get me into places where the Berettis move freely.
A smooth voice answers. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
I don’t bother with small talk. “I need an invitation to an event Antonio Beretti is likely to attend.”
A soft hum filters through the receiver. “That depends. Are you looking for a friendly introduction or something more… disruptive?”
My lips curl slightly. “I’ll decide when I get there.”
A chuckle. “Understood. I’ll send the details soon.”
I end the call, tapping the phone against my knee as I stare out the window.
Antonio thinks he holds all the pieces.
But he doesn’t know that I’ve already started playing the game.
And when the time comes, I’ll be standing right in front of him.
My phone buzzes in my palm, the message short and to the point.
Art auction. Exclusive invite only. Antonio attends every year. I’ve secured your spot.
I smirk.
Antonio has been attending this auction for years—one of the few indulgences he allows himself outside of business. If he’s making a public appearance now, it means he’s comfortable enough to be seen.
I don’t believe in luck. But I do believe in opportunity. And tomorrow night, Antonio Beretti will be exactly where I need him to be.
The real question is whether Nichole will be there with him.
Enzo glances at me from the driver’s seat. “Good news?”
I slip my phone back into my pocket, my smirk deepening. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Tomorrow night, I’ll see Antonio up close for the first time.
And if Nichole is there, I’ll know exactly how deep she’s in.