Page 69 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
Muttering a string of curses, I grabbed my room key and padded barefoot down the hall. I was just about to knock when I heard it. Lorenzo’s voice. He was on a call. I paused.
“Dante, listen to me. We can’t lose that shipment.”
I froze. His voice was low, firm, and edged with a sharp undertone.
“The site at the docks close to the valley city—yes, that one. I don’t care what you have to do. Just make sure it gets to where it’s supposed to go. No mistakes.”
I inched closer. The docks? A shipment?
“I believe that it shouldn’t be a hassle, but in case anything happens, you know what you do.”
Something cold slid down my spine. I didn’t like the way he said it. It felt almost cold. I leaned in, trying to catch more, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs.
“Check the perimeter before you move. I don’t want another repeat of last time.”
A floorboard creaked. My breath hitched. Shit! Knowing I had just made a sound. The conversation inside paused.
I bolted. Practically sprinting back to my room. I pressed my back against the door, my chest heaving.
Shit.
I shouldn’t have heard that. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but it sounded so much like the words my dad used when he was still alive and running shady dealings. But Lorenzo also had clubs and a casino, so I could be wrong and just reading meaning into things.
I pulled out my phone, fingers shaking slightly as I typed in the location he mentioned. A second later, the search results popped up. And I felt sick. A raid. A police raid at that exact site months ago. For weapons and drugs.
My stomach lurched.
I knew Lorenzo wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t naive. But something about this felt different, more dangerous, and more real.
I set my phone down, staring at the screen like it might tell me something else, something that made sense. But it didn’t. Instead, I was left with a lot of questions I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.
And for the first time since this arrangement started, I realized I might not know Lorenzo Bianchi at all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LORENZO
A noise.
It was faint, almost too quiet to be heard, but years of instinct had sharpened my senses beyond normal. I turned toward the door, my body tensing.
Footsteps. Quick. Almost rushed. I stood, walking toward the sound, but by the time I stepped into the hallway, it was empty.
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was something. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to chase ghosts.
I ran a hand through my hair and turned back to my room, shutting the door behind me. Dante was still on the line.
“If Enrico tries to interfere this time, let me know immediately,” I continued the conversation with him.
“Understood.”
“And don’t hesitate to call me,” I instructed, knowing that Dante was someone who was most likely to jump head-first to a danger without weighing the danger.
“You got it, but seriously, Lorenzo, enjoy the damn gala. You sound like an old man with too many problems.”
“That’s because I am an old man with too many problems.”
Dante laughed, and for a second, the tension in my shoulders eased.
