Chapter 2 - The Lion’s DenThe drive to the Viscanti estate was spent in a silence so thick it felt like physical pressure. Genevieve sat in the back of the armored sedan, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon. She knew she was in the belly of the beast.
"You’re a terrible server," Mateo said finally, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
"And you’re a worse actor," she shot back. "What was that? A distraction tactic?"
Mateo turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "It was a message. Arthur needed to believe I was distracted by a whim. He needed to believe you were just a girl I took a fancy to, not someone who saw his signal."
"You knew?"
"I’ve known Arthur was unhappy for a long time. I didn't know he was stupid enough to hire mercenaries to take me out during a charity gala."
"Why didn't you stop him sooner?"
"Because," Mateo said, his voice low, "I needed to see who else would stand with him. The shooters are dead, but the people who paid them? They are still walking around my dining room."
They reached the estate—a sprawling, fortress-like mansion on the outskirts of the city. As they entered, Mateo didn't lead her to the guest wing. He led her to his study, a room filled with heavy oak, dark leather, and the scent of expensive cigars and blood.
"You’re sleeping in the master suite tonight," he said, gesturing to the door. "And you aren't leaving until I give the word. You saw too much, Genevieve Sinclair. I know who you are. I know you’ve been digging through my shipping records."
May you like
Genevieve didn't blink. "Then you know I was looking for proof of your crimes."
"And instead," Mateo said, stepping into her personal space, "you found proof that my own brother is trying to kill me. Life has a funny way of shifting perspectives, doesn't it?"
