Page 2 of Masked Hearts

Rockyis an understatement. The stocks surrounding any Vitale business venture has been hit by a tsunami over the last nine months. As soon as the news of Adriano’s little trip to heaven's doorstep got out, investors began to worry about what could possibly be brewing under the surface for something like that to happen.

Not to mention my sudden inability to take any face to face meetings.

“I do trust you, Antonio, but you have to understand what this looks like to the board. It’s a massive risk,” the man on the other end of the video call says.

I shrug, feigning indifference, as if this deal wouldn’t make or break our entire profit margin for the year. “Massive risk, massive reward. The choice is yours, Clive,” I say.

The man rubs the bridge of his nose, and subconsciously I wish I could copy his actions. Tension pulls at my shoulders and I cannot wait to hang up this call and end my ‘work day’.

“Can we meet tomorrow? Or maybe in person next week?”

Fuck.

“I can meet for a short while tomorrow after lunch, but unfortunately, I’m not taking any in-person meetings at the moment.”

“Fine, tomorrow works. I’ll speak to the board at our meeting this afternoon and then get back to you with the final verdict.”

“Appreciate your time, Clive. I look forward to hearing good news from you tomorrow.”

The call ends and I triple check everything is shut down before I slump backwards into my chair. Tossing my thick, black framed glasses onto the table, I rub my eyes until stars dance across the blackness beneath my eyelids.

Standing up, I stroll over to my balcony that overlooks the majority ofDomaine de la mer,the villa I’m staying at—or rather the villa I’ve been banished to for the last three months—while the two least capable Vitales work on trying to stop Mattheo’s men who have been trying to kill me since I shot him.

I tilt my head to the side as I look out to the ocean, subconsciously surveying if any guilt has surfaced yet. But nope, I still don’t feel an ounce of remorse for putting a bullet into the bastard's head. Frankly, I wish I made him suffer a bit more for everything he did to Valerie.

Regret tugs hard as I think about her again. I’ve been able to keep the majority of my Valerie-related thoughts to a minimum of one per day for the last week, but today, my mind’s been running on overdrive, replaying everything that happened.

Adriano took a bullet that was meant for me, and I feel worse about that than actually killing the bastard. Especially since it left most in-person dealings to Augustus, because everyone wants to piss themselves whenever Ambrose enters a room.

A loud thud echoes through the room and I look over at Nico, my live-in babysitter/bodyguard during my time here in Mauritius.

“Sorry, boss,” he says, picking up the TV remote he dropped on the floor.

Poor guy probably expected a more exciting client when he agreed to be one of the youngest billionaires in Europe’s bodyguard for an unspecified amount of time.

Instead, he got stuck with my boring, never-wants-to-leave-his-room, ass.

My phone ringing on the counter pulls me away from another spiral.

Adriano.

“Hmm?” I hum into the speaker.

“You’re alive, Nino. Great to hear it.” Adriano chuckles, and I can hear him take a drag on what I assume is a cigarette.

“Could say the same for you. How’s physical therapy going?”

The bullet grazed a nerve in Adriano’s shoulder, leaving him having to relearn how to use his right hand again.

“Decent. Great, actually, considering they switched out the old dude for this absolute smoke show. It’s made me suddenly realise just how much longer I need physical therapy for.”

We both laugh. Adriano isn’t usually one to hook up with random girls—none of us are. Ambrose was the wildest, and even that came to an end when Valerie showed up at home during the beginning of last year.

Damn, I wonder how she is…

“Nino?” Adriano’s voice cuts my thoughts.

“Sorry, what?”

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