Chapter 52 Ambush
GIOVANNI’S POV
I stood in my office, my hands braced against the desk, trying very hard not to put my fist through the antique wood.
"You let her leave," I said slowly. "After everything I told you about keeping her under constant supervision, you let her walk out to go shopping."
Matteo stood at attention in front of my desk, and I could see the tension in his shoulders.
"She said she needed feminine products, sir. It seemed-"
"I don't care what she said!" I slammed my palm against the desk, making him flinch. "Your job is to watch her and to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid like meet with her family behind my back. And what did you do?"
"I thought…" Matteo's voice was strained. "After last night, I thought perhaps giving her some space, might-"
"Might what? Make her feel better?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Since when do you make decisions about what my wife needs?"
The word tasted bitter on my tongue. Wife. As if that was what she was.
"You're fired," I said flatly.
"Mr. De Santis, please." Matteo's composure cracked. He actually dropped to his knees, something I hadnever seen him do in all the years he'd worked for me. "I can explain! I even have a full report. She went to the shop, and then she-"
"Then she what?"
"She went with Marco and sister to a spa. They were there for approximately one hour and thirty minutes. I had to leave briefly to take your call, but I had eyes on the location the entire time.”
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. "A spa. She went to a spa with Marco and Christabel while you just... watched."
He bowed his head in shame. "I made a judgment call that wasn’t right."
"Your judgment is shit," I interrupted. "Get out. We'll continue this conversation later, and you'd better pray I'm in a more forgiving mood by then."
He pressed his palms together. "Sir, I'm sorry. I truly am."
"Get. Out." I snapped.
Matteo scrambled to his feet and fled, and I was left alone in my office with rage burning through my veins and nowhere to direct it.
I wanted to punch something until this feeling in my chest went away.
Because underneath the anger at Matteo's incompetence was something worse.
Guilt.
The look on Arya's face last night when I had insulted her in front of her family and the broken sound of her crying through the bedroom door after I'd left her alone.
"This was the plan," I muttered to myself, tugging at my tie like it was strangling me. "Make her remember her place and remind her why she's here."
But seeing her cry had done something to me.
I yanked my tie loose with more force than necessary and grabbed my jacket. I needed to get out of here.
My phone rang as I headed for the car and I saw Luca’s name on the screen.
"I'm close," I said before he could speak. "Tell me you have him secured."
"Rafael is tied up and waiting for you," Luca confirmed. "No one gets in or out without your say-so."
"Good." Finally, someone I could unleash this rage on without having to feel guilty about it afterward. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
The drive passed in a blur and my driver knew better than to make small talk when I was in this mood, so we rode in blessed silence while I tried to push thoughts of Arya out of my head.
I failed spectacularly.
The image of her face kept playing on repeat. Especially the desperate way she had hit my back and shoulders as I'd carried her out, begging me to apologize to her family.
I tugged at my tie again, loosening it further. The guilt was still there making my chest tight.
"Cazzo," I muttered under my breath.
This was necessary. I had told myself that last night, then this morning and would keep telling myself until I believed it.
The warehouse was on the outskirts of Naples, in an industrial area where no one asked questions about strange sounds or suspicious activity.
My men had taken over the entire building, securing every entrance and posting guards at strategic points.
Luca met me at the door, his face grim.
"He's in the back," Luca said. "Been asking for water and food but I told him he'd get none of those things until you arrived."
"Good." I rolled up my sleeves as we walked deeper into the warehouse. "Has he said anything useful?"
Luca shook his head. "Just a lot of begging and promises that he can explain everything."
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “They always can."
Rafael Ricci was tied to a metal support beam in the center of the space, his clothes were torn and dirty. And when he saw me, his eyes widened with fear.
"Mr. De Santis," he rasped. "Thank God. There's been a misunderstanding. I can explain!"
"Explain how you stole twelve million euros worth of merchandise from one of my most important clients?" I asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of him. "I'm very interested in hearing this explanation."
"It’s not what you think, I swear!” He tugged against the chains holding him. “Someone offered me a deal and I thought-"
I cocked my head to the side. "You thought you could betray me and get away with it?"
"No! I I was in debt, and they said if I helped them, they'd clear everything.” He was whimpering, his swollen bottom lip trembling. “I didn't have a choice!"
I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, studying him like an insect under a microscope. "There's always a choice, Rafael. You just chose to steal from me. And now you're going to tell me everything about who hired you, where my merchandise is, and why you thought any of this was a good idea."
What followed was thorough. I asked questions in a calm voice while Luca and his men whipped him witj lanced spikes when Rafael's answers were unsatisfactory to my ears.
Rafael screamed, begged, and cried as bits of his skin tire off during the whipping. And eventually, he started talking.
"There's a new mafia clan moving into the territory." he gasped between sobs. "They're the ones who approached me and said they wanted to destabilize your operation for good.”
"A new clan?" I leaned in closer. "What's their name?"
Rafael shook his head frantically. "I swear I don't know. They kept everything secret.” He coughed, and blood escaped his mouth, I didn’t bother to step back. “They communicate with code names, encrypted messages and shit."
I rubbed a palm down my jaw. "Then how do you know they're new?"
"Because they're reckless and making moves that established families wouldn't make.” He coughed again and this time, I took a wary step back. “They want territory fast, and they don't care who they have to go through to get it."
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued by this news. I wanted more information, specifically if they were targeting me alone.
"Where's my merchandise now?" I asked instead.
"I can give you the location but you have to promise me protection. If they find out I talked, they’ll kill me!"
"You should have thought about that before you stole from me." I stood up, adjusting my cuffs. "Luca, get the location out of him. Whatever it takes."
"Wait! Giovanni, please!"
I turned back to him, and whatever he saw in my face made him go pale.
He sucked in a breath and his shoulders sagged in resignation.”T-There’s a warehouse d-d-down in V-“
The bullet came from nowhere. One second Rafael was talking, the next his head snapped back, blood spraying from the hole that had appeared in his forehead.
For a heartbeat, everything was silent. I just stared in shock, wondering what the hell just happened.
Then gunfire exploded from multiple directions. My men scattered, shouting and returning fire. Luca was yelling something about getting me to safety, but the words were drowned out in my ears.
I spun, trying to locate the shooters, and caught a glimpse of a figure on the catwalk above us.
Something about the way he moved was familiar but I couldn't quite place what it was.
Before I could process it, white-hot pain exploded through my shoulder as two bullets lodged itself there. I went down hard, hitting the concrete floor with enough force to knock the air from my lungs.
Above me, someone was screaming my name and hands grabbed at me, trying to drag me to cover.
Yet the only thing I could say as I pressed against the wound, while blood was rapidly soaking through my shirt was…
"Cazzo.”