Page 8 of Breakup Games

Do they know each other?

Now it’s my turn for photos, but I won’t be as obvious as using my phone.

“He’s here, at the bar,” I saw quietly, pressing on the earpiece I have in.

“You got eyes?” Diego’s voice comes through.

“Yeah. Clear view. Over.”

Sitting back, I watch the exchange, continuing to get video and photo evidence. The mission today was just to simply gather some info so we can put together a profile. Unless Enzo does something egregious, I can’t act. Whatever I do has to be able to stand up in court, and I’m not even supposed to be here right now. Though one could always go to a bar, anywhere in the city, and just happen to arrest someone who was doing something illegal. I highly doubt Enzo is going to lop off someone’s head in the middle of the hotel lobby, though I can dream.

The woman in the green dress scoots over, talking to him now. I’m good at reading people. Not only is it part of the job but it comes naturally. But Green Dress…she’s hard to read. Her ankles are tightly crossed and she has one hand on her drink the whole time—smart, of course. But she’s also leaning in, giving off all the tell-tale signs of body language that she’s interested. She’s pretending to take sips of her wine, not actually drinking any of it as she puts it to her lips. Her purse with the digital recorder isin her lap, and her body is angled so it’s front and center between her and Enzo.

Again, what the hell is she doing?

They don’t know each other, I can tell by this meeting. Is she trying to get intel on him, too? But why? If she was with another organization, I should have been informed. There’s no way that was why we were told to back off…right? I swear to fucking god if those asshole from Homeland Security got the Moretti job and we didn’t…I shake my head. Gotta stay focused.

Diego checks in a couple more times as I continue monitoring the odd exchange at the bar, pretending to read the book I brought so I don’t look like a creep just sitting here. If anything, I blend in with the asshole businessmen trying to find a quick hookup while away for work—and away from their wives.

I keep watching what looks like a weird game of cat and mouse. Every once in a while, Enzo’s head is turned just the right way where I can read his lips. He tries to get her to go somewhere else and it seems as if she turns him down. They exchange numbers and he pays for their drinks. Her body tenses slightly when he hands his credit card to the bartender, and I wonder what happened. Did he say something when his face was turned?

She gets up to leave and he grabs her wrist. I’m about to jump up though I don’t know why. I don’t know this woman, nor does she appear to be in any danger. Yet for some reason, I have the urge to protect her. It must be because I know what kind of scumbag Enzo is. It makes my blood boil to see him sitting here, enjoying a drink at an upscale bar like any other person.

I know the things that he’s done and the things that he’s still capable of doing. This woman, though she is just a stranger, seems way too innocent to get mixed up with someone like him. I take another picture of his hand on her wrist and then look backdown in my book, pretending to be reading while watching out of my peripheral vision.

Green Dress thanks him and winces slightly when he puts his hand on her shoulder, rubbing her arm more intimately than she’s comfortable with. Then she gets up and starts to cross the lobby. She reaches for her purse, probably to grab her phone, and then stops herself, hurrying to the women’s restroom.

Enzo finishes his drink and picks up his phone, firing off a text. Then he gets up and walks towards the elevator. I follow him, seeing him take his room card from his pocket as he presses the elevator button. If he’s going back to his room, there’s nothing else to gather right now. But the woman in the green dress…

There’s something off about her and I need to figure out why she was secretly recording Lorenzo Moretti.

Chapter

Six

MIRA

“Holy shit,” I whisper, eyes going wide. I knew the guy looked familiar. No wonder he got weird when Whitni mentioned wanting to bring him to a work event. Because Matthew Baker isn’t Matthew Baker.

He’s Lorenzo Moretti, of the Moretti family, as in amafiafamily. What the hell has Whitni gotten herself into? Do I tell her Matthew’s true identity or just tell her that he’s not loyal? What if she breaks up with him and he tries to get even by taking her out—mobster style?

My mind is going a million miles an hour and I don’t know what to do. I want to text in the group chat but maybe I shouldn’t put anything in writing? Thank goodness I gave him a fake name…though I did give him my number.

It’s not the number to the cell phone I use everyday, but a track phone I bought just for occasions like this. He shouldn’t be able to find any sort of info with that number and I’ll go home and save his number under “DO NOT PICK UP UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE” along with a bunch of red flag emojis too.

Shaking my head, I look at my reflection in the mirror. It’s over. Done. I have proof he wasn’t loyal and I should tell Whitnithat he was a little flirty but not overtly, yet still not someone she should waste her time with. Maybe she’ll break up with him in a less screaming-match sort of way that’ll keep her safer. It’s not like I can go to the police with this.

Or can I?

The guy didn’t commit a crime by buying me a drink. He’s allowed to use a fake name and hell, I did too. Stepping to the side of the sink, I lean against the wall and text Kat.

Me: You’re never going to guess how my night went.

Kat: Hmmm…he hit on you.

Me: Of course. But he’s not who he says he is.

Kat: Spill the tea!

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