Chapter Nine - Eyes Everywhere
1147 Words
Chapter Nine
Eyes Everywhere
The drive back to the Moretti estate felt longer than usual.
Sofia rested one hand against the steering wheel while the other lightly traced the edge of the mission folder lying on the passenger seat.
She still hadn’t opened it again.
She didn’t need to.
She knew every photograph inside by memory.
Nick laughing softly when she’d admitted she’d never been to the ocean.
Nick listening more than he spoke.
Nick asking questions no one had ever thought to ask her.
None of it matched the man her father had described.
That bothered her.
Professionals didn’t allow contradictions.
Professionals resolved them.
Yet every answer she found only created another question.
⸻
The gates opened before she reached them.
As always.
The estate stood silent beneath the moonlight.
Beautiful from the outside.
Merciless within.
Before she’d even crossed the foyer, one of the household staff appeared.
“Miss Moretti.”
She stopped.
“Your father requests your presence.”
Requests.
An amusing choice of words.
No one refused Vittorio Moretti.
⸻
His study smelled faintly of leather and expensive whiskey.
Vittorio wasn’t drinking.
He rarely did when business occupied his mind.
Instead, he stood at the window overlooking the gardens.
“You’ve visited the piano bar twice.”
Sofia’s heartbeat remained steady.
“Yes.”
“You enjoyed yourself.”
Not a question.
She chose honesty.
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“Good.”
That wasn’t the response she’d expected.
“I wanted you comfortable there.”
She frowned almost imperceptibly.
“You did?”
He turned toward her.
“You can’t earn a man’s confidence if every visit feels rehearsed.”
Relief threatened to loosen the tension in her shoulders.
She refused to let it.
“You’ve spoken with Russo.”
Again…
Not a question.
“Yes.”
“What have you learned?”
She repeated only what anyone could have observed.
“He owns the bar.”
“He asks thoughtful questions.”
“He seems respected by his staff.”
“And?”
“He listens.”
Vittorio’s expression remained unreadable.
“He always has.”
He walked toward his desk.
“Has he invited you anywhere?”
“No.”
“Has he discussed business?”
“No.”
“Has he become suspicious?”
“I don’t believe so.”
Silence filled the room.
Finally, Vittorio nodded.
“You’re progressing.”
Progressing?
She hadn’t gathered anything useful.
She hadn’t even tried.
Yet somehow…
Her father sounded pleased.
“Continue.”
He opened another file.
“This mission requires patience.”
She accepted the dismissal and turned toward the door.
“Sofia.”
She stopped.
Without looking back.
“If I discover you’ve become emotionally compromised…”
His voice remained almost gentle.
“…I won’t hesitate to remove the distraction.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What distraction?”
He smiled faintly.
“Exactly.”
⸻
Across Manhattan, Nick sat alone in his office.
The security footage from the evening played silently on one of the monitors.
Not because he was watching Sofia.
Because he was watching everyone else.
Who watched her.
He paused the video.
Zoomed in.
Table twelve.
A man in a navy blazer.
Watching Sofia.
Not drinking.
Not listening to the music.
Watching.
Nick rewound the footage.
Then another angle.
The same man.
Always within sight of her.
Never approaching.
He pressed the intercom.
“Luca.”
The door opened less than a minute later.
“You see him?”
Luca studied the monitor.
“Not one of ours.”
“My thought exactly.”
Nick leaned back.
“He arrived eight minutes after Sofia.”
“And left three minutes after she did.”
Luca’s expression hardened.
“You think Moretti’s watching his own daughter?”
“I know he is.”
Nick folded his arms.
“He doesn’t trust anyone completely.”
“Not even family.”
Especially family, he thought.
Luca looked back at the screen.
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing.”
Luca blinked.
“Nothing?”
“If we touch his surveillance…”
Nick closed the video.
“…Vittorio knows we’re paying attention.”
“And if we leave it?”
“He believes his men are invisible.”
Nick smiled.
“Sometimes the best way to gather information…”
“…is to let people think they’re gathering it from you.”
⸻
The following afternoon, Sofia found herself unable to concentrate.
She’d spent three hours in the estate’s private gym, trying to lose herself in familiar routines.
Knife drills.
Close-quarters combat.
Target transitions.
Normally, repetition quieted her mind.
Today…
Every movement reminded her of Nick’s question.
“If you could be anywhere tomorrow…”
She’d answered with the ocean.
Why?
She’d never cared about the ocean.
Or had she simply never allowed herself to?
She drove the knife into the training target harder than necessary.
The blade buried itself to the hilt.
A slow clap echoed through the room.
Vittorio.
He stood in the doorway.
Immaculate as always.
“You’ve become distracted.”
She pulled the knife free.
“I’m refining technique.”
“No.”
He walked closer.
“You’re avoiding thought.”
Her grip tightened around the handle.
“I’ve completed every assignment you’ve given me.”
“And yet this one remains unfinished.”
“It’s only been three days.”
“Three days longer than necessary.”
He stepped within arm’s reach.
“You know why you’ve never failed me?”
She remained silent.
“Because you never allowed yourself to see your targets as people.”
His eyes bored into hers.
“They’re obstacles.”
“Nothing more.”
He gently took the knife from her hand.
Then placed it back into her palm.
“When you look at Dominic Russo…”
“…I want you to see a threat.”
“Not a man.”
He turned and walked toward the door.
“Oh…”
Without looking back, he added,
“Tomorrow night…”
“…I expect progress.”
⸻
That evening, Sofia sat alone in her room.
The mission folder lay open beside her.
She stared at Nick’s photograph.
Then at the notes she’d been instructed to complete.
Behavioral weaknesses:
Blank.
Routine vulnerabilities:
Blank.
Likely archive location:
Blank.
She picked up her pen.
After several long moments…
She wrote a single sentence.
He doesn’t seem like the man I’ve been told he is.
She stared at the words.
Then slowly tore the page from the folder.
Folded it in half.
And dropped it into the fireplace.
Some truths…
Were too dangerous to leave behind.
Outside her bedroom window, hidden among the trees beyond the estate walls, a pair of binoculars caught the faint glow of the fire before disappearing back into the darkness.
Someone else…
Had begun watching the Moretti house.
And this time…
It wasn’t one of Vittorio’s men.
- Writer
