Page 40 of His Savage Ruin
My free hand curls into a fist so tight my nails bite into my palm. I force it to relax before my knuckles crack. "Moretti." I keep my voice neutral, bored even, though I want to reach through the phone and crush his windpipe.
"I believe we have business to discuss," Emilio continues, and I can hear the satisfaction in his tone. He thinks he has leverage. Thinks he's calling from a position of strength. "The matter of my daughter-in-law, specifically."
He says it like she’s just a thing he thinks he owns because his son married her. The way he says it makes my vision tunnel red for a heartbeat before I force control back into place.
"Go ahead then," I say, because if I stay silent he'll think he's rattled me.
"Face to face. Neutral ground." He pauses, lets the silence stretch like he's granting me a favor by suggesting this meeting. "Tomorrow, two o'clock. The Meridian Hotel, downtown. Justyou and me—no weapons, no soldiers. A conversation between reasonable men."
Reasonable. The word from the man who turned a peace meeting into an ambush seventeen years ago, who murdered my father for the sake of territorial expansion and then had the audacity to send flowers to the funeral.
Every instinct I have screams that this is a trap. Walk into that hotel and I'm giving him the advantage, putting myself in his territory, trusting that a man who's broken every agreement we've ever made will suddenly honor neutral ground. It's reckless.
But refusing signals fear. Shows the Morettis that I'm weak enough to avoid direct confrontation.
The silence stretches. I can hear Rafael's breathing from across the warehouse, quiet and waiting for my decision without pressing. My jaw aches from how hard I'm clenching it.
"I'll be there," I say finally, and the words taste like ash.
"Wise choice." Emilio's voice carries satisfaction, like I've just handed him exactly what he wanted. "I look forward to resolving this situation in a civilized manner."
The line goes dead before I can respond. He's taken that last word deliberately, claiming control of the conversation, reminding me that he called this meeting and set these terms.
I stare at the phone, knuckles white around metal and plastic that creaks under my grip. My pulse hammers in my ears, blood rushing hot with rage.
"Matteo?" Rafael calls from across the warehouse. "Everything all right?"
"Change of plans," I say, forcing my voice level despite the fury trying to claw up my throat. "Double security on all shipments. And get Luca. I want the Meridian mapped inside and out before I step foot there tomorrow."
"Expecting trouble?"
"I always expect trouble when Moretti is involved, but this feels different." I pocket my phone and walk back toward him, my mind already running through scenarios. "I need Luca to get me blueprints of the Meridian—every floor, every exit, every goddamn window. I want to know where the security cameras are, what sightlines exist from surrounding buildings, how many stairwells lead to the street."
Rafael nods, pulling out his own phone. "I'll have him start on it now. What about personnel?"
"No one goes with me inside—Emilio was clear about that, and breaking that rule gives him an excuse to back out or claim I violated terms." My jaw clenches at the thought of walking in there alone, but tactical disadvantage is still better than showing weakness. "But I want our people positioned within a three-block radius. Enzo coordinates from a vehicle with clear lineof sight to the entrance. You and Dante take opposite corners, mobile and ready to move if this goes sideways."
"How sideways are we expecting?" Rafael asks, and there's something in his tone that tells me he's already planning for the worst.
"Emilio's not stupid enough to try something in a public hotel in broad daylight, but he's also not above having backup plans I can't see coming." I think about the ambush during Alessia's transport, how precise the timing was, how much inside information it required. "If shooting starts, I need extraction routes that don't funnel me into a kill box. And I need someone watching for secondary teams—this bastard likes to hit from multiple angles."
"Understood." Rafael's already typing on his phone, probably messaging Luca and Enzo simultaneously. "What about Alessia? You want additional security on her while you're gone?"
The question makes my chest tighten. "Double the guards on my room. No one goes in or out except Isabella. If this is a distraction to make a play for her, I need to know immediately."
"You think Emilio would be that bold? To try to take her back while you're meeting with him?"
"I think Emilio would do anything if he thought it would give him an advantage," I say flatly.
Rafael's mouth twitches in what might be amusement, but I catch the way his shoulders tighten, the tension that runs through his frame. He's worried. Won't say it out loud because that's not how we operate, but I've known him long enough to read the signs.
I can still picture him at sixteen, fists bloodied from fighting three men twice his size just to keep me from being cornered in an alley. He's always been my blunt instrument—loud, reckless, fearless to the point of madness. But his loyalty runs deeper than blood. When my father was murdered, Rafael didn't wait for orders. He put himself between me and the world until I could stand on my own feet again. He'll charge into hell whistling if I ask him to, and he'd do it even if I didn't ask because that's who he is.
The drive back to the estate passes in strategic calculations that keep circling back to the same question: what does Emilio really want? If he just wanted Alessia back, he could have tried to take her by force. The ambush during transport proved he's willing to spill blood. So why the diplomatic approach now? Why neutral ground and reasonable conversations?
Because he suspects something. Has to. Maybe someone's been asking questions, or he's putting together pieces that don't quite fit. This meeting isn't about negotiation. It's about gathering intelligence.
When I reach the estate, Enzo is already waiting in my office. Files are spread across my desk in neat stacks, because Enzo never lets chaos linger longer than absolutely necessary.
