Billionaire Mafia's Sweet Girl

Chapter 014

Chapter 14

MARCO'S POV

The whiskey burned going down, but not enough to drown out the memory of Harriet's face in that parking lot. Fear, desire, defiance – she'd never been good at hiding her emotions. Not like the other women in my world, with their calculated smiles and practiced seduction.

"Don Martinez's people are getting bolder," Edward said, spreading photos across my desk. "They've been seen in our territory three times this week."

I picked up one of the surveillance shots. Lady One, stepping out of a black SUV, looking over her shoulder. The betrayal didn't surprise me – loyalty had never been her strong suit. But going to Martinez...

"She knows too much," I said, my voice cold even to my own ears. "About our operations, our weaknesses."

"And about Miss Blackwood."

My hand tightened on the glass. "Increase the security at The Golden Spoon. Quietly."

"Already done." Edward hesitated. "Sir, about Miss Blackwood... are you sure it's wise to—"

"Careful," I warned.

He nodded, knowing better than to finish that thought. But I knew what he wanted to say. Was it wise to let myself care about her? To risk everything I'd built for a woman who kept trying to run away?

My phone buzzed. A text from one of my men at the café:

'She came in early. Working the morning shift.'

Something loosened in my chest. She hadn't quit. Not yet.

"The shipment from Mexico," I said, returning to business. "When does it arrive?"

"Tomorrow night. But Martinez's people—"

"Let them watch." I stood, walking to the window. Vegas sprawled below, my kingdom of neon and shadows. "In fact, make sure they see everything. Every detail."

Edward's reflection smiled slowly as he understood. "A trap."

"Martinez always was too eager. Too quick to believe what he sees." I turned back to my desk, to the photos of Lady One. "And traitors are so useful as bait."

"And Miss Blackwood? If this turns messy..."

"She stays out of it." My tone left no room for discussion. "Whatever happens with Martinez, she remains untouched."

After Edward left, I pulled up the café's security feed on my laptop. Harriet moved between tables, more confident than yesterday. She'd tied her hair back, but strands kept escaping, falling around her face. My fingers itched to brush them away.

A customer grabbed her arm, complaining about something. Before my men could move, Harriet handled it herself – a firm word, a professional smile. The man backed down, apologizing.

Pride mixed with frustration. She was stronger than she knew. Strong enough to resist me, to fight what was growing between us.

But everyone has a breaking point. Even Harriet Blackwood.