Page 23 of Massimo

"Is your meeting with the 'Ndrangheta still happening, Massimo?" Ash asks.

We rarely speak about our own organization's business. However, I understand why he brought this up; we need to deal with this Chamber business as soon as possible.

"I've been able to push it back and will leave in three days."

I'm not sure of my next steps if Nova doesn't crack by then. Leave her in the cold room until I get back?

The image of her small, huddled form against the wall, her lowered head, and hugging her knees makes my gut clench and bile push into my throat. She's been in there for two and a half days already.

No blanket, not even a mat to sleep on.

I'm acting like a monster.

I am exactly what they say I am.

But for her to crack, she has to believe that.

I stand. "I need to go."

"It's late anyway, and it's been a long day." Sile stifles a yawn.

Ash raps his tattooed knuckles on the boardroom table. "Convene here at one tomorrow."

Dom smirks. "You Guardians never were early risers."

"The clubhouse might not start to rouse until at least eleven," Ash grunts. "That doesn't mean the Prez sleeps the day away."

"Have a good night, gentlemen." I button up my suit jacket and walk out of the boardroom and into the simple but elegant reception area.

"Mass, wait a second." Dom jogs to meet me, his eyes scanning my face. Him and Ash know me best as my closest allies. "You sure everything is okay? You know the Saints have your back with any further threats against Vito and Eden, right?"

Dom had been upfront that his allegiance on this came with a favor attached. I wasn't surprised or dismayed because this is how our world operates.

"Are you calling in that favor already, Dom?"

Rather than his usual smirk, his face darkens. "Not yet…but soon."

"You know whereto find me."

"You seem in a hurry to get home." His usual smirk comes back. "You got a little honey warming your bed?"

The image of Nova splayed across my bed is sudden, intense, and hot as fuck. Heat floods me, and my cock starts to harden.

The warmth in my body acts like a bucket of ice water, though, as I remember Nova locked in my cold basement. Huddled in a tight ball to stay warm and maybe to hold the pieces of herself together while I tried to break her apart.

"I need to go," I half-rasp, half-snarl. I take the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator because I need to move.

When I reach the lobby, Gabe takes one look at me and breaks away from his conversation with Pix and Hugo. We’re both silent as we head to the parking garage and get into the Rolls Royce.

I pull up the security camera feed on my phone to watch Nova.

She's curled into a tight fetal position on the stone floor, not moving.

Fear curdles in my gut—what if she's dead? Logic takes over; reminding me it's not that cold in there.

No, but maybe she's starved to death.

Not that quickly.

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