Page 30 of Ruined By Protection
Matteo
The traffic on the Van Wyck Expressway crawls forward at a snail's pace.
Hazel. The bartender from Austin. The woman I fucked senseless in a hotel kitchen three years ago. The woman who disappeared before dawn, leaving nothing but a curt note.
She's sitting in the backseat right now.
And she's Evelyn's fucking cousin.
I glance in the side mirror again, catching her profile as she stares out the window. Same honey-blonde hair. Same delicate features. Same woman who's popped into my thoughts at random moments for three goddamn years.
What are the chances? One in a million? One in a billion?
My stomach twists with suspicion. This can't be coincidence. No fucking way.
Is she following me? Did she somehow track me down? Find out who I really am, who I work for?
The thought sends ice through my veins. If she's been stalking me, if she knows about the Feretti family...
I shift in my seat, fighting the urge to interrogate her right here in the car. My mind races through possibilities, none of them good. Could she be working for our enemies? The Volkovs? Law enforcement?
"You okay?" Noah asks quietly, his voice low enough that the women in the back can't hear.
"Fine," I bite out, not taking my eyes off the road.
But I'm not fine. I think back to that night in Austin. Did I say something? Reveal anything about who I really was, what I really did? I'd been careful, stuck to my cover story about import-export. But what if I slipped up? What if she figured something out and has been planning this all along? What if she knew all along?
My jaw clenches as another possibility hits me. What if she's running from something serious? Something that could bring heat down on the Ferettis?
I need to get control of this situation. Fast.
As soon as we reach the mansion I'll find a moment alone with her. I'll figure out what game she's playing. Because there's no way this is just some cosmic coincidence. Life doesn't work that way.
"I need to make a call," I say, pulling my phone out. "Business."
It's an excuse to think, to calm the rage and confusion boiling inside me. I dial Daniel's number, watching Hazel in the mirror as I do. She's still looking out the window but her shoulders are tense, her posture rigid.
"Matteo," Daniel answers on the second ring.
"Just checking on security for tonight," I say, my voice all business. "Any issues with the perimeter?"
While Daniel gives me a routine update I don't need I observe Hazel's reaction. Nothing overt but she's listening closely. I can tell by the slight tilt of her head.
What's your angle, Hazel? What the fuck are you really doing here?
The memory of her beneath me, around me, flashes through my mind. The way she moaned my name, dug her nails into my back.
And now she's back, connected to my world in the most unexpected way.
I end the call with Daniel and catch Noah watching me with narrowed eyes. He knows something's off. He always does.
"Everything good?" he asks.
"Perfect," I lie.
When the mansion comes into view I hear Hazel's soft gasp from the backseat. The sprawling estate tends to have that effect on people seeing it for the first time—the manicured grounds, the imposing stone façade, the obvious wealth and power it represents.
But all I can think about is getting her alone, demanding answers. Finding out if she's a threat.
