Chapter 6
Ava’s small, trembling fingers fumbled with the delicate drawstrings of the dark velvet pouch. The bright, cinematic lighting of the hotel foyer caught the deep black fabric as the strings finally gave way. The pouch opened in her tiny hand.
With a soft, metallic clink, a heavy gold object slipped from the velvet and dropped onto the pristine carpet.
The entire foyer seemed to hold its breath. Matteo leaned forward, his sharp, intimidating eyes locking onto the object resting against the intricate fibers of the rug. It was a massive, intricately carved gold ring, heavily tarnished but unmistakable. It bore the ancient crest of the Savelli family—a crest reserved only for the patriarch.
Matteo slowly reached down. His long fingers, adorned with refined, sharp tattoos, closed carefully around the heavy gold band. He picked it up, feeling the familiar, undeniable weight of the metal. He ran his thumb over the deep engraving, his heart hammering a violent, unnatural rhythm against his ribs.
He stood up, his towering, masculine frame casting a long shadow over the carpet. He held the ring tightly in his fist, his knuckles turning white. He slowly turned his head to look at Celeste, who was pushing a garment bag off her chest, struggling to sit up among the fallen coat rack.
"Celeste," Matteo said. His voice was dead calm. There was no rage in his tone, only a terrifying, absolute void that sent shivers down the spines of the heavily armed capos standing nearby.
Celeste looked up, her fair, rosy skin entirely drained of color. She saw the gold ring glinting in his hand, and her breath hitched in her throat.
"I buried my father. Wearing this ring," Matteo stated, his volume incredibly low, every measured syllable cutting through the silence like a scalpel. He paused, his cold eyes pinning her to the floor. "Who brought it back?"
Celeste’s face filled with profound, unadulterated fear. Her lips parted, but she could not formulate a single word. She shook her head frantically, her diamond jewelry rattling against her collarbone.
"I... I don't know," Celeste stammered, her American accent breaking into a desperate sob. "Matteo, please, you have to believe me! I didn't know what was in the bag!"
"You tried to throw my daughter down a staircase. For a bag you knew nothing about?" Matteo asked softly. He took a slow step toward her. "You lie poorly."
"It's the truth!" Celeste shrieked, backing away on her hands and knees. "Nolan told me the girl was holding something dangerous! He told me to get it from her at all costs! He didn't tell me what it was!"
Matteo’s gaze shifted to the pile of stacked leather cases where Nolan lay unconscious. The pieces of a massive, terrifying puzzle were beginning to form in his mind. His father had died of a sudden heart attack three weeks ago. The casket had been sealed before the memorial.
"If my father is in the ground," Matteo whispered, staring at the family signet ring, "then someone dug him up. If he is not in the ground... then someone lied to me about his death."
May you like
The implications were catastrophic. A ghost was walking the halls of the hotel, wearing a dead man's coat and handing out rings to toddlers.
"Lock the doors," Matteo commanded without raising his voice.
