Page 16 of The Brat's Bargain

The fact that his best friend had been spotted with Damien Benedetti, of all people, set off alarm bells in Lorenzo's head. Something wasn't right. The Antonio he knew would never willingly align himself with their family's greatest rival.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he called, quickly minimizing the windows on his screen.

Vivian Lombardi swept into the room, her face a mask of barely contained fury. "Tell me you have something," she demanded.

Lorenzo sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Nothing concrete yet, Donna. But I did manage to trace some unusual financial activity in one of our shell companies. It looks like someone's been siphoning off funds, small amounts at first, but growing larger over the past few months."

Vivian's eyes narrowed. "Antonio?"

Lorenzo nodded grimly. "It's possible. The timing lines up with when he started getting in over his head with his gambling debts. But there's something else..."

He pulled up a grainy security image on his screen. It showed Antonio entering a high-end clothing store, Damien Benedetti's hand possessively on his lower back.

Vivian's sharp intake of breath was the only indication of her shock. "When was this taken?" she asked, voice dangerously calm.

"Three days ago," Lorenzo replied. "I've been trying to track their movements since then, but they're good at staying off the grid. Whatever's going on between them, they're being careful about it."

Vivian was quiet for a long moment, her eyes never leaving the image on the screen. When she finally spoke, her voice was like ice. "Find him, Lorenzo. I don't care what it takes. Bring my son home."

As she swept out of the room, Lorenzo felt a chill run down his spine. He'd known Vivian Lombardi his entire life, had seen her at her best and worst. But he'd never seen her like this, cold fury radiating off her in waves.

He turned back to his computer, determination setting his jaw. He would find Antonio, no matter what it took. And heaven help anyone who stood in his way.

The charity auction was in full swing, Chicago's elite mingling and bidding on overpriced trinkets in the name of philanthropy. Antonio stood at Damien's side, playing the part of the devoted companion to perfection.

But inside, he was a mess of conflicting emotions. Every touch, every possessive glance from Damien sent sparks skittering across his skin. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was betraying everything and everyone he'd ever known.

"Another drink, sir?" A waiter appeared at Damien's elbow, tray of champagne flutes balanced expertly.

Damien plucked two glasses from the tray, handing one to Antonio with a meaningful look. "Thank you," he said smoothly, dismissing the waiter with a nod.

As soon as they were alone, Damien leaned in close, his lips brushing Antonio's ear. "You're doing wonderfully, pet," he murmured. "Keep this up, and I might have to show you just how pleased I am when we get home."

Heat pooled in Antonio's belly at Damien's words. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a commotion near the entrance.

A group of men in ill-fitting suits pushed their way into the ballroom, their rough demeanor at odds with the refined atmosphere. Antonio felt Damien stiffen beside him, one hand coming to rest possessively on his lower back.

"Rizzo," Damien growled, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Antonio's blood ran cold. He recognized the name—the Rizzo family was a rising power in Chicago's underworld, known for their brutal tactics and disregard for the old ways.

Before he could process the implications, Damien was steering him towards a secluded alcove. "Stay here," he ordered, voice low and urgent. "Don't move, don't speak to anyone. Understand?"

Antonio nodded, throat too dry for words. As Damien strode away to confront the intruders, Antonio's mind raced. This was bad. If a fight broke out here, in front of all these witnesses...

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Antonio? What the fuck is going on?"

He spun to find Lorenzo standing behind him, face a mixture of relief and confusion. "Lorenzo," Antonio hissed, panic rising in his chest. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."

Lorenzo's eyes hardened. "Neither should you. Come on, I'm getting you out of here."

He grabbed Antonio's arm, but Antonio wrenched away. "I can't," he said, hating the desperation in his voice. "Lorenzo, please. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," Lorenzo demanded. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've switched sides. Thrown in with Benedetti of all people."

Antonio opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of raised voices. He peered around the corner to see Damien and a burly man he assumed was Rizzo engaged in a heated argument.

"This is neutral ground, Rizzo," Damien was saying, voice cold as ice. "You have no right to be here."

---