Matteo was climbing down the grand staircase a Nico's hurried footsteps met him halfway.
He looked tense, his hand hovering near his gun.
"Boss," Nico whispered. "Moretti is at the gate. The guards are holding him outside the gate and waiting for your permission, but he's losing his mind. Isabella must have called him the second you left her room."
Matteo's expression didn't shift. He just smoothed the front of his shirt, the adrenaline from the bedroom still humming under his skin, making him feel lethal.
"Let him in, Nico. It's high time the old man saw how I run my house."
They descended the remaining stairs together. Matteo took his position in the center of the living room, feet planted, hands clasped behind his back in a pose of deceptive calm.
A few seconds later, the heavy front doors groaned open.
Moretti marched in, his face a deep, mottled red, two of his personal guards trailing him like shadows.
