Page 96 of Phantom Mine

“Third time tonight you’ve fucked up. That’s a fifty quid pour, ‘sorry’ isn’t going to cut it. Get your act together or that’ll be the last time you pour anything at this bar.”

The bar manager walks off before I can say anything else. In the weeks I’ve worked behind the bar, Stefano has proven himself to be a good guy. He’s even-tempered and fair, which is a welcome change from being under Guido’s command, and this is the first time he’s raised his voice at me.

I deserve it. Iamdistracted.

“Are you alright?” Aurora whispers, reaching for a bottle on the shelf behind me as an excuse to talk to me.

Two days after my last dancing shift, I’d asked Matteo if Capri could join me at the bar. I expected him to either outrightrefuse, question why I wanted her with me, or use it as leverage to get answers out of me.

He did none of those things. He simply asked me if it was important to me, and when I answered it was, he picked up his phone, called Guido and told him Capri was reassigned. I wasn’t able to decipher the exact angry words Guido spewed through the phone, but I’ve certainly felt the heat of his glare on my cheek every day since.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind.”

I haven’t been able to think about anything but the letter R. The letter R burned jagged and uneven into beautiful tan skin, the marks of the many different instruments of torture used clear on every inch of Matteo’s back.

He’s so outwardly strong and unwavering, charming and seemingly perfect. Like a god, almost. Discovering that he has fears and anxieties just like the rest of us only draws me closer to him. He’s mortal, and that makes me want to protect him. The rage I feel—the one that’s been burning and growing like a fire being stoked ever since our dinner—rivals the vengeful fury that brought me toFirenzein the first place.

I’m going back to Rocco’s office tonight.

I’ve been tiptoeing around the decision for days, hesitant, but seeing the proof of his cruelty literally burning into Matteo’s back made up my mind. He’s a monster and my gut tells me that he’s the one who killed Adriana.

Being behind the bar hasn’t yielded any other leads. The picture of the girl is the only thing I have to go on and I can’t spend another second wondering if there’s a photo of Adriana languishing in that drawer, waiting for me to find it.

When Stefano approaches the bar, I apologize once more.

“Go home, Melody.”

Aurora throws me a pitying look.

“But–”

“You’re of no use to me tonight. Go home,” he orders, speaking over me. “Come back tomorrow with your head screwed back on.”

???

I’m not going to make the same mistake as last time and try to break into Rocco’s office while the club is open.Firenzewon’t close for hours still, so I decide to go to Matteo’s place.

He’s supposed to come pick me up at the end of my shift, but I hop into a cab since I’m done earlier than planned. I’m about to text him that I’m on my way when I see that I have a couple missed calls from my brother.

I haven’t spoken to Thiago in weeks, nor have I checked in with Arturo, his second in command. I like to call him my handler, a title that sometimes pulls a smile out of him. That’s something of a miracle given how tightly wound the man is.

Thiago must be worried about me, but he’s on his quest and I’m on mine. I shoot him a quick text instead of calling back. I’m afraid he’ll either tell me he’s arranged my marriage, or worse, pull the truth out of me, then come storming through the front doors ofFirenzein a misguided attempt to save me.

I can’t put him off forever, especially now that he’s back in London, but I’m hoping his spirited fiancée will keep him occupied long enough for me to get answers. After all, I should have some after tonight.

The cab drops me off in front of the building. Security waves me through even though I’ve never come in using any entrance other than Matteo’s private garage.

This elevator opens into a short hallway crowned with a locked door at the end. It’s only once I’m in front of it that I realize I never sent Matteo a text telling him I was coming.

Doubt twists my stomach into figure eight knots. We never established any rules around visits, but he’s always been very intentional about bringing me here himself. Is he going to be angry that I just showed up? Am I going to interrupt something by visiting unexpectedly?

Get a fucking grip, Valentina.

With my heart hovering somewhere near the top of my throat, I lift my fist and knock. Seconds trickle by before the door opens and Matteo appears.

Anticipation buzzes through my veins and makes my pulse flutter nervously. He’s shirtless, green sweatpants the color of his eyes hanging impossibly low on his hips. His hair is disheveled and wet, drops of water from a couple strands dripping appetizingly onto his bare chest like he just came out of the shower.

A surprised look flashes through his eyes for a split second before a pleased smile stretches across his lips. My anxiety is gone in the single heartbeat before he wraps a hand around my wrist, pulls me inside, closes the door, and presses me up against it with his body. His forearms come down on either side of my head, encasing me.

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