Chapter 2 - The Boss Descends
|
From the marble steps of the Moretti mansion, Lorenzo Moretti heard every word.
He had not moved since the leash broke. Men who had killed for him were sprinting across his lawn. Security was shouting into radios. His younger cousin was demanding, at increasing volume, that somebody shoot the dog.
Lorenzo heard none of them anymore.
His attention had narrowed to one woman kneeling in the grass.
Black pants. Practical shoes. A pale green shelter volunteer shirt stretched softly across a full, unapologetic figure, and no effort made to hide any part of it. Dark hair come loose from its knot. Dirt on one knee. A frightened child crying ten feet behind her.
And the most dangerous animal on Lorenzo Moretti's property had just placed his life in her hands.
"Sir." Marco Bellini appeared at his shoulder, breathing hard. "We need to contain—"
"Anyone raises a weapon," Lorenzo said quietly, "I break the arm holding it."
Marco stopped talking.
Lorenzo descended the steps, and people moved out of his way before he reached them. They always did. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their panicked murmurs dying down as the undisputed head of the Chicago syndicate walked across the ruined garden.
His tailored black suit absorbed the evening light. He moved with a terrifying grace, his dark eyes locked entirely on the woman holding his wolfdog.
"Get away from the beast, lady!" someone yelled from the safety of the patio.
Hannah ignored the voice, keeping her soothing rhythm against Nero’s coarse fur. She could feel the dog’s heartbeat slowing, but the chemical scent was overwhelming up close.
"He's been drugged," Hannah said aloud, though she wasn't speaking to anyone in particular.
"I know."
The deep, gravelly voice came from directly above her.
Hannah tilted her head up. The man standing over her was easily six-foot-three, built like a fortress, with a jawline carved from granite and eyes that looked like black ice. He wasn't looking at the dog. He was looking at her.
"You're the owner," Hannah stated, her protective instincts overriding her common sense.
"I am."
"Then you need to fire your handler. Your dog is terrified, he’s been exposed to a neuro-stimulant, and someone put a choke collar on him backward."
Lorenzo didn't blink. The men flanking him gasped, unused to anyone speaking to the boss with such blatant disrespect.
"Is that right?" Lorenzo asked, a dangerous, fascinating spark igniting in his dark eyes.
"Yes," Hannah said, refusing to back down. "He didn't attack because he's vicious. He attacked because he thought he was fighting for his life."
Nero whined, burying his heavy snout deeper into the soft curve of Hannah's chest.
Lorenzo slowly crouched down, his bespoke trousers brushing the wet grass. He was now eye-level with her.
"You saved his life today," Lorenzo murmured, his voice dropping to a register that sent a sudden, inexplicable shiver down Hannah's spine.
"I just listened to him," Hannah replied, her breath catching as Lorenzo’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
"A rare skill," Lorenzo noted. He extended a large, scarred hand. "Lorenzo Moretti."
May you like
"Hannah Reed," she said, cautiously taking his hand. His grip was firm, warm, and entirely encompassing.
"Well, Hannah Reed," Lorenzo said softly. "You and I have a problem to solve."
