Page 166 of Savage Empire
“I’m listening, Matteo,” I say, voice firm and convincing. “Why are you freaking out that she hasn’t responded? Do you feel she may be in danger?”
He hesitates again, lips turned down into a contemplating frown. But he doesn’t leave, instead, he enters my office and approaches me slowly. “You know what happened to her, yeah?”
“I’m familiar, yes.”
Unfortunately for the poor girl, almost everyone in power is aware of the atrocities that befell her at the hands of her mother. It wasn’t something that could be kept secret, not with the rampage her father went on to punish the men who were responsible for breaking his teenage daughter.
“I’m only telling you this because I’m going out of my fucking mind right now, Apollo,” he grits out. “This stays between us. Barely anyone knows.”
I give him a firm nod, gesturing for him to continue.
“She tried to end it all…like, several times after it happened. Her Dad kept her on lockdown after the first two times, and she hasn’t tried in a year now. But when she has bad days, she still thinks about it sometimes.” He swallows hard. “She’s having a bad day, and now she’s not answering…”
Jesus fucking Christ.
This is not how I saw Matteo’s friendship with the illusive Morozov girl going. When he got permission to continue contact with her, I knew they’d become close. But sharing something so deep from such a distance? She must truly trust Matteo. And I suppose, for good reason.
Snatching my phone from the desk, I scroll through my contracts quickly and dial.
“What are you?—”
I halt his question with a hand in the air and press the phone to my ear. My call is answered in three short rings.
“Anton Morozov,” I say before he can utter a word. Matteo breathes out a shaky breath. Realizing what I’m doing, he drops into the chair across from my desk, eyes wide with rapt attention.
My little brother may not have the Russian Pakhan’s phone number, but I certainly do. His direct line, in fact. Dmitri connected both myself and my father when he married Jade. For formality, and for emergencies.
“Apollo Moretti,” he greets in return, a cold hesitation in his tone. “Why are you calling me?”
“Do you have eyes on your daughter currently?”
A sharp intake of breath. “Why are you asking?”
“Check on her,” I advise, leaving no room for delay. “Matteo is concerned for her current mental and physical health.”
Russian curses fly over the line, and audible shuffling muffles through the call. Seconds pass ungodly slow, tense air thickening with every moment that goes by without answer.
Eventually, Anton’s deep voice crackles back into my ear. “She’s sleeping. She asked our doctor for her emergency medication. She has…she has never asked for it herself. If this is that boy’s doing, you tell him he is off probation.”
It’s the closest thing to a thank you we’re going to get. Anya’s father hangs up without another word, and I follow suit.
“She’s sleeping,” I say, watching as the relief washes right over Matteo’s face. “Apparently she asked her doctor for her emergency medicine?”
“She did?” he asks, a smile twitching onto his lips. “She never asks for it. Normally someone notices she’s gloomy and it’s offered, sometimes she’ll reluctantly take it because it makes her really tired. Shit, okay, that’s good.”
“He said as much. He credits you for her progress and says that you’re offprobationnow?”
His slight smile turns into a full blown grin. “That just means he won’t keep a hand on his gun when he sees me now. He’s starting to love me already.”
I tilt my head at him. “Are you hoping to turn him in your favor? Perhaps to become a son-in-law someday?”
His smile drops and he clears his face of any emotion. “We’re just friends. It isn’t like that.”
Matteo doesn’t want me to see him react to the implication, interesting.
I shrug casually. “Whatever you say.”
“Thank you, for helping,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head. “You’re not so bad, when you want to be.”
