Chapter 3 - A Midnight Protocol
The gala concluded at midnight, but the true work began in the dark hours that followed.
Matteo sat behind his massive obsidian desk on the top floor of Valente Tower, the city lights of Chicago sprawling out beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The room was dark, illuminated only by a single desk lamp and the amber glow of a glass of Scotch.
The door opened silently, and Marco, Matteo’s trusted underboss and lifelong friend, stepped inside. Marco was a man built like a brick wall, covered in scars, and fiercely loyal to the Valente name.
“You called for a midnight protocol, boss?” Marco asked, closing the door and locking it. “Who are we looking at? The Outfit? The Colombians?”
“Adrien Vale,” Matteo said, tossing a manila folder onto the center of the desk.
Marco blinked in surprise. “The surgeon? The Chief Justice’s son? Matteo, that family is a hornet's nest. We use their lower courts to clear our mid-level guys, but the old man at the top is completely unbuyable. He’s a zealot for his family’s legacy. Why are we targeting the son?”
“He’s putting his hands on Arya,” Matteo said simply.
The air in the room instantly grew heavy. Marco didn't need a detailed explanation. He had seen the way Matteo looked at Arya for the past eleven months; he knew that the secretary was the only pure thing in Matteo’s violently complicated life.
“Jesus,” Marco breathed, leaning over the desk. “Are you sure?”
“I saw the marks tonight, Marco. Fingerprints on her arms, ribs bruised to hell. She’s covering for him because she thinks the Vale family will destroy us if we retaliate.” Matteo took a slow sip of his Scotch, his eyes burning in the dim light. “I want everything on him. I don't want his public medical records. I want his private life. I want the apartments he rents under shell companies. I want his gambling debts, his mistresses, his college records. I want to know what he does when he thinks God isn't looking.”
“And if he’s clean?” Marco asked quietly. “Men like that usually have a team of publicists cleaning up their trash.”
“Nobody is clean,” Matteo replied coldly. “Find the women before Arya. A man who strikes a woman like that doesn't start with his fiancée. He has a history. Find the ghosts in his closet, Marco. And do it without triggering his father's alarms.”
Marco nodded, taking the folder. “Consider it done. What about Arya? She’s scheduled to accompany him to the Vale family estate in Lake Forest this weekend for their formal engagement dinner.”
Matteo’s glass paused halfway to his lips. “She won't be going.”
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“How are you going to stop her without alerting Vale?”
Matteo looked out at the glowing skyline, his jaw clenching. “I'll give her so much work she can't leave the office. I'll make myself the villain in her schedule if it keeps her within my reach.”
