Page 68 of Veil of Obsession
“Nothing. This meeting is just such a fucking bore. I’d rather be anywhere but here,” I joke, trying to distract them from the fact that I’m a fucking wreck because I know what will happen if they find out about Princess.
Being a woman won’t safe her from the death grip of the Camorra. I just hope they won’t look further for her, that they’ll let this die down. But I know that won’t happen because the moment she chose to kill in the Camorra’s territory, stirring up shit for us, she was done for. You mess with the business, you mess with the entire Camorra, and there is only one way to pay the price.
With your life.
Eli rolls his eyes, fed up with my shit. “Get the fuck out of my office, asshole. The meeting’s over for now. Matteo, I want you to ditch those security recordings and look for whoever is pulling this shit using something else. The recordings are a dead end.”
Matteo nods. Chairs scrape against the marble floors. And everyone files out of the room.
“Want to head to the ring for a session?” Matteo asks me as we both head toward the stairs instead of the elevator.
I pat him on the shoulder. “Fuck yeah. I want to kick your ass today.”
He shakes his head. “You wish, asshole.”
When we step out of the building, the sky is gray, dark clouds rolling overhead.
“It looks like it’s about to storm,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat of my car while Matteo slides into the passenger seat.
“They did say something about a blizzard,” he says as I pull out of the parking garage and drive into the streets of Manhattan.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
I fucking hate blizzards. That shit always has you locked up at your place with practically nothing to fucking do.
I press my foot to the pedal, the car gliding smoothly against the street, the city moving in a blur. “I need you to find something out for me.”
“Is it about Stefano’s niece?”
His question has me regretting even bringing up the topic because it means that he’s suspicious. And Matteo being suspicious about anything isn’t good.
When I don’t answer, he says, “It is, isn’t it? I told you to stay away from her. She dangerous. Even if you’re the Capo’s brother, it doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, and I have to take deep breaths to not tell him that it’s too fucking late for that warning, because she’s already buried so deep under my skin that I’d have to tear myself to shreds to get rid of her.
Ignoring what he said, I tell him, “I need you to find out who she’s engaged to.”
When I ease the car into park, the car doors slam behind us.
“Since when have you ever cared if a girl is in a relationship or not?”
He’s right. Whenever I “pursue” someone, I don’t really care if they’re in a relationship or not. But I need to know who the asshole is who thinks he can have her, as if he has a right to. Shewas mine from the moment I saw her, and I won’t let anyone take her from me, let alone some scummy lowlife who won’t know how to handle her fire.
“Will you do it or not?” I ask him as we head into the changing rooms.
“She’s engaged to Daniel Morgan. Some politician’s son.”
Not for fucking long. I give him a nod to let him know I heard what he said before throwing on a change of clothes so we can box.
It doesn’t take us long to tape our knuckles. We hop into the ring, the lights dim and the strong stale smell of blood singeing my nose, but I ignore it. I go for a fake punch; Matteo dodges and goes for the same move, warming up before we actually start.
For some reason, the ring feels smaller tonight. Not because of the space, but because of the weight pressing down on my chest. The unspoken words. The questions burning through my skull.
Does he know? Does he not?
Matteo and I circle each other, the dim, flickering lights overhead casting long shadows across the canvas. The scent of sweat, old blood, and something sharper lingers in the air. My brother’s expression is blank, unreadable. The same fucking face he wore when he was a kid, sitting at the dinner table while our father talked business with Emiliano.
A jab comes fast—a testing hit, meant to probe. I block, shifting my weight back, forcing my breathing steady.
