Page 45 of Doll Face

Caelian nodded. “Specifically, our plan. Although I still don’t know why we don’t just snipe his ass.”

“I don’t want him to just die,” Gianna said. “I want him to pay.”

“You think Matteo knows about his father?” Mauro asked.

“I don’t know,” Caelian replied, folding his arms across his chest. “If he does, they’re both operating without the head of the Famiglia’s knowledge. If Pietro isn’t the don, but is able to function as one without drawing attention, then the real head of the Romanelli family has to be one of the elders.”

“Maybe the elder is too old to fully function in the role and is relying on Pietro,” Gianna suggested.

“And Pietro has taken advantage of the fact no one is checking up on him,” Caelian added. “We need to figure out who it is.”

“I can investigate that,” Mauro volunteered.

“Boys,” Gianna said, feeling smug. “I think we have a change of plans. Seth, can you do research on Pietro’s assets? Every piece of property. Every bank account. Every investment. Anywhere he could hide large sums of cash I want to know about it. And then I’m going to invite the real capo dei capi to the wedding.”

Chapter Seventeen

Matteo and his father had flown back to the States, where he resumed the duties his father assigned to him. Everything was to uphold the Romanelli power, and he acted like a God-damn robot on autopilot. For three years he cared about nothing and no one, and that included himself. If it wasn’t for Rocco watching him like a hawk, he might have joined Macy in the grave.

Instead, he was now engaged to a woman he didn’t know. Meeting her left him unsettled, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he found her attractive or if it was because she wasn’t Macy. Guess it was a moot point. He didn't need to love her in order to fuck her, so there was that.

A week later, a representative from a motorcycle club showed up to talk about trade negotiations. It seemed slightly sketchy since his father had never previously mentioned them, and before he knew it, a thief and spy had been discovered in their midst.

Matteo stared down at the dead man lying on his father’s floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Second guessing himself if he’d heard correctly. Who was this man? And how did he know Macy? He sifted through his memories and remembered Macy talking about her best friend from the arcade.

“Get rid of him,” his father ordered before thanking Lincoln from the Death Riders MC. The accountant had been hired to find Pietro’s missing money.

Sounds floated in a tunnel, and he had trouble grasping everything being said. Finally, his father left the room and the guards hurried to remove the body.

“What was his name?” he demanded.

One guard blinked. “Reynolds.”

“First name!”

“Thomas,” the other said. “Thomas Reynolds.”

It couldn’t be, could it?

Matteo made his way quickly to the servants’ quarters. Like the other household staff, the butler had a room, and at first glance it was spotless. Only the bare minimum with a twin bed, dresser, closet, desk and a small, attached bathroom. He started with the desk, but it revealed nothing. He moved on to search the dresser and closet but still found nothing. He uprooted the mattress, not even knowing what he was searching for. In the bathroom he ran a hand through his hair, feeling like he was losing his mind.

Then he noticed the back of the toilet tank was slightly askew. He walked over and removed the lid, seeing a plastic zipped bag with a notebook. Pulling it out, he opened the bag and took it out, discarding the rest in the trash.

Heading back to the room, he sat down at the desk and opened the book. Notes and notes about him and father’s movement. Locations, shipping information, even his deals selling diamonds. Pictures were taped on pages with captions. All of it starting the day he had met Macy in the coffee shop, spelled out in ink.

Thomas Reynolds was actually Tommy Reynard. How the fuck had Macy’s best friend been hired and he not know who he was? Everyone went through a background check, so did that mean he fell through the cracks or did someone drop the ball? Tommy believed the Romanellis killed Macy, but … why would he think that? It had been the Iannuzzi family.

Or had it?

He pulled out his phone and placed a call to Rocco.

“Yeah?”

“Meet me at my place,” he ordered and hung up. He had no patience for chitchat.

Closing the notebook, he tucked it under his arm and left the room, not caring in the least what happened to the dead man’s possessions. He slid behind the wheel of his sports car, gunned the engine, and tore down the driveway.

He broke the speed limit getting to his condo. Rocco sat on his sofa watching television, but he turned it off when Matteo slapped the notebook down on the coffee table.

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