Page 152 of Phantom Mine

“Enzo—” Matteo starts.

“The car will be ready in two,” he answers.

His line goes dead.

“We’ll be at your flat in twenty minutes to pick you up,” Matteo tells me. “But Valentina.” Anytime Matteo uses my full name, my stomach tightens in anticipation. I know it means he wants me to listen. “I need you to do exactly what I say when we get there. Before you interrupt me and tell me that you can handle yourself, I know you can,cara. That’s not why I’m asking—it’s because I’m going to be distracted with you there,” he confesses. “That has nothing to do with whether you’re capable or not, and everything to do with the fact that you’re mine and I need to protect what’s mine. So please, if I tell you to hide, do it, and if I tell you to run,run.”

The urgency in his tone convinces me.

“Okay, Phantom. I’ll do what you say.”

He groans. “Good, but don’t say those words to me again. The last thing I need is to roll up to a rescue op with a rock hard cock.”

???

The address theFemina FortisL.L.C is registered to is right in the heart of the most affluent parts of London. You wouldn’t need to be familiar with the city to know that—the streets are lined with large, stucco-fronted homes, each with carefully manicured and maintained flower beds. Here, perfection is the price of entry.

Even though we’re mere blocks from the high street, there’s a quiet in the air that speaks to the wealth that resides behind each grand doorway.

Femina Fortisoperates out of one such of these homes. The last house on the street, it abuts a narrow archway that leads into a small, cobbled side alley. From the outside, it looks like every other neighboring house. It’s only the number and type of carsthat set it apart—three black vans line the alleyway, as if in wait. A scared shiver rushes down my spine thinking about what, or who, they’re being used to transport.

“Do we know how many bodies are inside?” Matteo asks, screwing a silencer on the muzzle of his gun.

We’re parked a couple houses down from our target, Enzo in the driver’s seat, Matteo in the passenger seat, and me in the back.

Enzo frowns down at the portable monitor in his hands. “The thermal camera isn’t picking up anything. They must have reinforced their walls with steel or concrete.” He looks up at the front door. “I don’t like this. We haven’t been able to get shit in the last three days—no video, no audio, no mapping. That house is a fortress, we need to call for more men.”

“I’m not having a full fledged gunfight in the middle of Chelsea and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if I call for reinforcements. No, we do this alone. I want to deal with Amadeo and Guido myself.”

“Then how do we do this?” he asks.

Matteo shoves the gun into the back of his waistband. “I’m going in.”

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“Alone,” he clarifies.

“No.” I shake my head categorically. “You’re not going in there by yourself.”

Matteo twists in his seat and looks at me. “Remember what you promised me, Leni. You’ll do what I say.” My jaw clenches angrily and the ghost of a smile wipes across his lips. “I’m not going in there guns first, I’m going as a customer,” he explains. “They’ll welcome the newDonof the Italian Mafia with open arms. My father and brother were customers and business associates, so why would they assume I’m anything other than exactly that?”

“And what if Amadeo or Guido see you?” Enzo questions. “What then?”

“Same reasoning. They’ll have no reason to think I’m there for any other reason but to…shop.” Matteo grimaces. “When I see Aurora, I’ll bid on her until I win. This is the safest way to do this. Theonlyway,” he adds.

“No,” I repeat, still shaking my head. “What if something happens to you? How are we supposed to help you?”

“I’ll call Enzo’s phone. Let’s leave the line open, that way you can hear everything.” He glances from me over to his cousin. “But Enzo, if something does go wrong and you need to come in,” he says, “you leave Valentina in the car.”

“What?” I sit up abruptly, nearly flying over the center console in the process.

“You got it,” Enzo replies.

“Absolutely n—”

A shrill scream pierces the air, stopping my objection cold.

All three of our heads whip towards the direction where the sound came from. The alley.

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