Chapter 4 - The War in the ShadowsI stared at him, my brain trying to process the overwhelming, terrifying generosity wrapped inside a mob boss's cold authority.
"I can't accept that," I rasped out, holding my chin high despite the trembling in my knees. "I don't take hand-outs from men who carry guns into nightclubs."
A faint, genuinely amused spark lit up Matteo's gray eyes.
"It wasn't a hand-out, Maya," Matteo corrected cleanly, leaning his hip against the walnut desk, crossing his broad arms across his chest. "It was an advance on your new salary."
I blinked. "My what?"
Leo Mercer cleared his throat from the armchair, holding up a sleek tablet.
"Miss Miller," Leo explained, "before you took the waitress job at the Velvet Room six months ago to cover your mother's emergency care, you were a senior risk analyst for the State Street Financial Group in downtown Boston. You hold a Master's degree in Forensic Accounting from Boston College."
My mouth opened slightly in total, dumbfounded shock. They had audited my entire life in less than twelve hours.
"Jimmy Morales didn't just leak your registry," Matteo added, his voice dropping into a low, serious register. "He was using your stolen corporate credential access codes to bypass the state gaming board's automated fraud alerts for the Providence syndicate."
The room went dead silent except for the crackle of the cedar logs in the fireplace.
The terrifying realization smashed into my chest like an iron fist.
"Jimmy... Jimmy framed me for his money laundering," I whispered, the room spinning around me. "If the federal prosecutors audited those accounts..."
"You would be facing ten to fifteen years in a federal penitentiary for financial fraud," Matteo stated deadpan, stepping closer to me, his presence engulfing my space like a warm, impenetrable armor. "While Jimmy took a kickback from Providence and fled to Costa Rica."
My knees felt weak. I set my coffee cup down on the desk before my trembling fingers dropped it onto the rug.
"Where is Jimmy now?" I asked quietly, looking up into Matteo's face.
"Sitting in a federal holding cell in Boston," Matteo revealed softly. "My legal team handed the complete, unredacted digital audit package to the United States Attorney at seven o'clock this morning. Your name has been completely cleared of all corporate liability."
Tears of pure, overwhelming relief welling in my hazel eyes, I looked up at this dangerous, terrifying man—a man half the city crossed the street to avoid—who had dismantled a federal conspiracy against me in less than twelve hours.
"Why, Matteo?" I whispered, tears spilling over my lashes, burning down my cheeks. "Why do all this for a girl who poked you in the chest at a bar?"
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Matteo reached out his broad hand, his warm, calloused thumb gently brushing away the tear from my cheekbone, his touch sending a sharp, electric shiver straight down my spine.
"Because," Matteo murmured, his deep baritone carrying an absolute, unshakeable truth, "in fourteen years of running this city, Maya... you are the only person who ever looked at me and wasn't afraid to tell me the truth."
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