Page 71 of Shadows of Steel
He doesn’t look convinced. With a subtle motion, he taps his earpiece. “Stay alert. Eyes on everything.”
The other men adjust their positions, scanning the street with newfound vigilance.
I force myself to take another bite of my gelato, but the sweetness no longer registers. The gnawing sensation in my chest is impossible to ignore. I may not see him, but I know he’s out there. Watching. Binding his time.
Still, I refuse to let him dictate my day.
So I carry on.
After a few more hours and more stores than I can count, exhaustion sets in, the excitement of the splurge melts into a pleasant fatigue. The sun has dipped lower, casting the city in a soft amber glow as we make our way back. Naples is breathtaking in this light, warm, golden, timeless. But as the car winds through the streets, leaving the luxury of Chiaia behind, I feel the weight of the day settle over me.
I lean my head against the seat, allowing my eyes to drift closed for a moment. Shopping had been a welcome distraction, but reality has a way of creeping back in.
And as the car turns onto the long drive leading to the estate, I can already feel it waiting for me.
Chapter 22
Dante
I go through the documents spread across my desk, flipping through pages of reports, bank statements, and security logs, none of them giving me what I fucking need. The rage festers inside me, a low-burning inferno that refuses to die down.
Still no lead on the stalker.
This ghost of a bastard who thinks he can threaten my fucking wife.
My jaw tightens as I press my fingers against my temple, the headache from earlier still lingering like a dull throb behind my eyes.
Fucking Martha. That insolent woman dared to address Harlow with the arrogance of someone who believed herself entitled to an opinion, as if she had any claim to dictate her place in my house, in my world. I stripped her of that delusion the moment she opened her mouth.
I fired her on the fucking spot. She should consider herself fortunate that I let her walk out alive. Had I been in a less forgiving mood, she wouldn’t have left at all.
Who the fuck did she think she was?
Still, the tension eases, just slightly, when I recall how Harlow held her own. Sharp, unshaken, cutting through Martha’s pathetic display. I smirk. She’s mafia royalty in every sense, Sicilian by blood, Outfit by legacy, and now bound to the Camorra. A queen in her own right, forged by the very underworld she refuses to bow to.
My phone pings, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen. Giovanna,my new assistant.
The moment I answer, she falters.“Sir… there’s a matter that requires your attention.”
I have no tolerance for uncertainty. “Speak.”
She swallows. “Mrs. Salvatore’s purchases have raised flags with the bank. Should I approve all transactions?”
I lean back in my chair, exhaling through my nose. “Are you insinuating that my wife’s decisions require scrutiny?” My voice is quiet, but it carries the kind of weight that makes lesser people sweat.
“N-no, sir, I just—”
“If you so much as hesitate again when it comes to her, you’ll find yourself out of a job before you can take your next breath.”
“I understand. It’s just that one of the purchases was… a company—”
“Approve everything.” I cut her off, my tone icily final. “And don’t ever presume to question my wife again.”
I end the call before she can say anything else. But I do find myself very intrigued. A smirk pulls at my lips.
What the fuck have you done now, wife?
A loud bang interrupts my thoughts. My office door swings open, without a fucking knock. Leonardo strides in, dropping into the chair across from me like he owns the place.
