Page 32 of Pietro
"The Irish won't stop. Yesterday was just the beginning."
I know.
I don't talk.
He rounds the desk, stopping just outside my personal space. "I don't think you understand what it means to be under my protection. What I'll do to keep you safe."
"I didn't ask for your protection."
"No." His hand rises, fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on my throat. "But you have it anyway."
The touch is barely there, but my skin ignites. I freeze..
"Pietro—"
"Go home. To the compound." His hand drops, but the heat remains. "Liam will drive you."
"I have work?—"
"Not today." He returns to his desk, dismissal clear. "We'll try again tomorrow."
PIETRO
My phone buzzes. Liam.
"She's at the compound," he says without preamble.
"Good. Find anything at her place?"
A pause. "Nothing suspicious. Bag had the usual—clothes, toiletries, a book."
"What book?"
"Some thriller. Nothing interesting."
I take a sip, letting the burn ground me. "And the apartment?"
"Clean." Liam's voice drops lower. "But I talked to her neighbor. Said a man was looking for her last night. Knocked on doors asking questions."
My grip tightens on the glass. "Description?"
"Average height, dark hair. Nothing distinctive. Neighbor thought it might be an ex."
"Could be." The whiskey doesn't taste as good anymore. "What did Vittoria find?"
"Everything checks out. Employment history at a Boston firm, college records, social media. Sparse but consistent. Looks like she's exactly what she claims: woman starting over after leaving an abusive relationship."
The pieces fit, but something still feels off.
"You don’t trust her," Liam says, reading my silence.
"I don't trust anyone."
"That's not what I meant."
I know exactly what he means. I can't stop looking at her, my body gravitates toward hers without conscious thought.
"How bad do you want her, Pietro?"
