Chapter 225

Chapter 225
Leonardo

I watched the elevator doors close, taking Hannah away from me. For several moments, I stood motionless in the doorway, the weight of what I'd just done settling over me like a physical thing.
Back inside the penthouse, I poured another drink and moved to the windows. The city sprawled before me, lights twinkling against the darkness.
I took a long swallow of whiskey, welcoming the burn. I'd done what needed to be done. Her safety mattered more than... whatever this was between us.
I pulled up the security feed on my tablet. The camera in the elevator showed Hannah leaning against the wall, her face turned away from the lens. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Was she crying?
Something twisted in my chest. I closed the feed.
It was better this way. Hannah was safer far away from me, from the violence that followed me like a shadow. The attacks were escalating, becoming more coordinated. If anything happened to her because of me...
I drained my glass and set it down with more force than necessary. This sentimentality wasn't like me. I'd ended arrangements before without a second thought.
But Hannah wasn't like the others. She wasn't just a body to warm my bed or arm candy for public events. She had fire in her, a determination I respected. And vulnerability that stirred something protective in me.
The vulnerability that made her a perfect target.
I turned from the window, pacing across the penthouse like a caged animal. The crystal tumbler in my hand caught the city lights, amber liquid sloshing against the sides. I'd faced down men with guns, competitors trying to steal my territory, even federal agents. None of them made me feel this... unsettled.
The image of Hannah's trembling shoulders in the elevator replayed in my mind. I'd hurt her. And for what? To keep her safe from those trying to kill me? To keep her safe from danger?
"Fuck," I muttered, setting the glass down on the marble countertop with a sharp click.
This wasn't me. I didn't brood over women, and I certainly didn't worry about their feelings. They served a purpose in my life: pleasure, occasional companionship, and business advantages; and when that purpose ended, so did our arrangement. It was clean, simple, and without complications.
But Hannah was different. She wasn't like the other sugar babies, polished, practiced, and perfectly aware of the game we were playing. Hannah was real, raw, and unpredictable.
I poured another finger of whiskey, swirling it absently. When would I see her again? Would I see her again at all? The thought of her moving on, finding someone else while I hunted down whoever was targeting me, left an acidic taste in my mouth.
I moved back to the window, looking out at the sprawling city below. Hannah was out there somewhere, possibly wondering what the hell had happened between us. Or maybe she wasn't thinking about me at all.
The whiskey burned pleasantly down my throat. What if weeks or months passed before I eliminated this threat? What if by then, she'd found someone safer, someone normal? Some boy who could take her on ordinary dates without worrying about snipers or car bombs?
It would be better for her. I knew that logically. Hannah deserved normal: college, friends, a boyfriend who didn't bring violence into her life. But the image of her with someone else made my jaw clench until it ached.
I emptied my glass in one swallow.
Only time would tell. For now, I had work to do. Someone was trying to kill me. I needed to find them and eliminate the threat. Then... well, then I'd decide what to do about Hannah.

I stepped into the monitoring room where Peter Conrad waited, accompanied by James. The room was stark, its walls painted an off-white that had yellowed with age. A metal table bolted to the floor dominated the center, with two chairs facing each other like opponents in a chess match. Conrad sat in one, his posture relaxed despite the circumstances.
"Mr. Salvatore," he greeted me. "Your accommodations are minimalist."
I took the seat across from him. "Let's not waste time with pleasantries," I said. "James tells me you've been forthcoming with information."
Conrad shrugged. "Self-preservation is a powerful motivator."
"Indeed it is." I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. "Tell me about this attack you mentioned. The one planned for Dante's birthday party."
"My client had plans drawn up for a coordinated hit. Three sniper positions triangulating the main courtyard where the party would be held. One on the eastern hill, another in the guesthouse, the third on the roof of the pool house."
I kept my expression neutral even as my mind worked through the implications. Those positions would give nearly complete coverage of the estate grounds.
"The main target was you, but the shooters had orders to take out as many high-ranking Salvatore family members as possible."
"And you know this how?"
Conrad shifted in his seat. "The initial brief came through about two weeks ago. Preliminary plans, nothing finalized. My contact mentioned explosives in the valet area as well, a secondary measure to create chaos and prevent escape."
"Your contact," I repeated. "I thought you were dealing with an anonymous client."
"I was. But I've got friends in similar circles. One of them got approached for the same job after you captured me." Conrad's lips quirked into a small smile. "Seems my sudden disappearance made my client nervous."
"This friend has a name?"
"Wouldn't be much of a friend if I gave you his name, would I?"
I stared at him until his smile faltered. "I don't think you understand your position, Conrad."
"Relax," he said, raising his hands slightly. "My friend declined the job. He's smarter than I was. Recognized the signs of a suicide mission." Conrad leaned forward. "That's why I'm telling you this now. Whoever's behind this, they're planning something big for Dante's party. Bigger than the hotel hit, bigger than the yacht."
I glanced at James, who stood impassively by the door. "Is this information reliable, or are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?"
"It's solid," Conrad insisted. "Look, I've got no reason to lie about this. My client clearly moved on when I got captured. I'm burned. My only play now is to help you and hope you're feeling generous."