Chapter 2 - The Midnight Escape
Before Tessa could digest Matteo’s words, the heavy brass handle of the private dining room door rattled violently.
Matteo’s reaction was instantaneous.
He grabbed Tessa by the forearm—his grip firm but not painful—and pulled her behind him just as the door burst open.
Signor Rossi stepped into the room, flanked by two towering men in dark trench coats. The warm, polite demeanor Rossi had displayed during dinner was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, desperate fury. In his right hand, Rossi held a silenced semi-automatic pistol.
"Where are the contract annexes, Moretti?" Rossi demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Matteo did not flinch. He stood casually in front of Tessa, entirely unbothered by the gun pointed at his chest.
"You left them on the table, Rossi," Matteo said smoothly. "Along with your manners."
Rossi’s eyes flicked to the table, then to Tessa standing half-hidden behind Matteo’s broad shoulder. His gaze narrowed as he noticed the small notepad still clutched in her hand.
"The girl," Rossi whispered, his face turning pale with sudden realization. "When I was talking to Capo... she didn't just pour the water. She stopped. She understood."
"She's a waitress at an Italian restaurant, Signor Rossi," Matteo said, his voice dropping into a tone that sent a chill through the room. "She serves food. But if you raise that weapon in my city, you won't survive long enough to hear the gunshot."
Rossi didn't hesitate. He raised the silenced barrel directly at Tessa.
Matteo moved with terrifying speed. He grabbed the heavy edge of the walnut dining table and shoved it forward with tremendous force. The three-hundred-pound slab of wood slammed into Rossi and his two bodyguards, sending them crashing back into the doorway in a tangle of limbs and overturned crystal.
"Move!" Matteo barked, grabbing Tessa’s hand.
He pulled her through a hidden service door behind the mahogany sideboard—a private exit used by the kitchen staff. They sprinted down a narrow, dim concrete hallway, the sound of shouting and muffled gunshots echoing behind them.
Tessa’s heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her teeth. Her nonslip shoes gripped the wet tile floors as they turned a sharp corner into the restaurant’s rear loading dock.
"My purse—my coat—" Tessa gasped out, her breath ragged in the freezing night air.
"Forget them," Matteo said, pushing open the heavy steel security door into the alleyway. "They know who you are now. If you go back to your apartment, you're dead."
Waiting in the alley was a sleek, dark armored SUV. The driver's side door opened, and Marco—who had clearly not gone home—stepped out with a heavy black rifle in his hands.
"Boss!" Marco shouted.
"Get in the back!" Matteo ordered Tessa, shoving her into the rear leather interior before sliding in beside her and slamming the heavy, bulletproof door shut. "Drive, Marco! Safehouse Three!"
The SUV roared to life, its tires screeching against the wet pavement as it launched out of the alley just as Rossi’s men burst into the street, firing uselessly at the reinforced vehicle.
Tessa pressed her back into the deep leather seat, her breathing shallow, her hands shaking violently. She looked down at her apron, still stained with splash marks from mineral water, and then at the fifty-thousand-dollar check still crumpled in her fist.
"I told you," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. "I told you I didn't want to be involved in this!"
Matteo turned to her. In the dim ambient light of the dashboard, his face was carved from granite, but his eyes held something she hadn't seen before: genuine regret.
"You're right," Matteo said quietly. "You warned me. And I dragged you into the middle of a war."
He reached out, taking a clean silk handkerchief from his breast pocket, and gently offered it to her.
"I can't undo tonight, Miss Hart," he continued, his tone devoid of its usual arrogance. "But I give you my word as a Moretti: no one touches a hair on your head while I am breathing. You are under my protection now."
Tessa took the handkerchief, wiping cold sweat from her forehead. She looked out the tinted window at the dark city blurring past.
"Your protection," she said bitterly, looking back into his dark eyes. "That's just another word for a cage, isn't it?"
May you like
Matteo looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them heavier than the armored steel surrounding them.
"For now," he acknowledged softly. "Until I destroy the men who made it necessary."
