THE MAFIA’s PET

DEAD MAN

CHAPTER THREE

“Is that why you took the bracelet from her?” Antonio asked.

My hand flew to my mouth.

The bracelet.

There was a pause.

Then Cleyton spoke again, his voice lower this time.

“She saw Veronica being dragged out earlier tonight,” Cleyton admitted.

I backed away, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I’d been right.

Cleyton knew what had happened to that girl.

But before I could move, Antonio spoke again.

“Find out everything about Lucia Abato.”

My blood ran cold.

“Everything, sir?”

“Her family. Where she lives. Who she talks to.”

I stumbled backward, accidentally knocking into a metal bucket.

The clang echoed through the corridor.

Everything went silent.

Then Cleyton spoke.

“Who’s there?”

I didn’t wait to be told twice.

I ran.

I didn’t even know where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t let him catch me standing outside that office, listening to a conversation I had absolutely no business hearing.

My shoes slapped against the floor. I nearly collided with a waitress coming out of the kitchen, muttered an apology, and kept going.

Behind me, a door flew open.

“YOU! Stop right there!”

Oh, hell no.

I ran faster.

I turned a corner and almost crashed into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.

“Watch where you’re—”

“Sorry!”

I kept moving until I reached the counter. My lungs were burning, and I had to fight the urge to look over my shoulder.

I grabbed a cloth and started wiping a counter that was already clean.

Act normal, Lucia. For God’s sake, act normal.

A few seconds later, Cleyton came rushing into the room.

“Everybody stop what you’re doing!”

The chatter died almost immediately.

He stood in the middle of the room, breathing hard, his eyes moving from one face to another.

“Who was outside my office just now?”

Nobody answered.

He pointed at a man standing beside the bar.

“I asked you a question.”

The man blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Really?”

Cleyton moved to the next person.

“Did you see anyone near my office?”

“No, sir.”

“Anyone pass through the corridor?”

No one answered.

I kept wiping the counter.

My hand was shaking so badly that the cloth slipped from my fingers.

Shit.

I bent to pick it up, hoping nobody had noticed.

Then I felt it.

That horrible feeling of someone watching me.

I looked up.

Cleyton was staring straight at me.

My stomach twisted.

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, looking at me as though he was trying to peel the truth right off my face.

I forced myself to look away.

Please, God. Please, let him be guessing.

After what felt like forever, he turned back to the others.

“If I find out anyone has been sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong, that person will regret it. Do you understand?”

A chorus of quiet yeses followed.

“Good.”

He walked away.

But not before looking at me one last time.

That was worse than if he’d threatened me outright.

For the rest of my shift, I barely spoke. I kept my head down, did what I was told, and tried not to think about the conversation I’d overheard.

Her family. Where she lives. Who she talks to.

Antonio wanted to know everything about me.

Why?

I didn’t get any answers.

By the time my shift ended, I was ready to crawl out of my own skin.

I changed out of my uniform, grabbed my bag, and practically ran out of the club.

I didn’t stop until I was far enough away to breathe without feeling like someone was standing right behind me.

The ride home felt longer than usual.

Every time a car slowed down beside us, I looked through the window.

Every time someone walked too close, I moved away. It was eating me up.

I was being ridiculous, and I knew that.

But it was one thing to work in a club where terrible things happened.

It was another to realize that the people responsible knew your full name.

And your family.

And where you lived.

By the time I reached home, my head was pounding.

I dropped my bag beside the couch and collapsed onto it.

“Hey, babe! What’s up?”

Alessia appeared from the hallway, holding onto a mug.

I turned my head to look at her.

“I’m exhausted.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“Okay. What happened?”

“Infuriating things. Terrible things. It’s barely been a month, and I already feel trapped. And scared. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

She sat beside me, immediately interested.

“Wait. What? What happened at the club?”

I let my head fall against the back of the couch.

“You won’t believe me if I told you.”

“Oh, my God.” She moved closer. “Spill it.”

I looked at her.

Then I looked at the ceiling.

And back at her.

Honestly, where was I even supposed to start? The girl being dragged away? The bracelet? Antonio punching a man in the face? Cleyton threatening to ruin my life without actually saying the words?

Or the fact that Antonio Dante wanted to know where I lived?

Nope.

I was too tired.

“Can I tell you tomorrow?”

Alessia stared at me.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow. I’m exhausted, and if I open my mouth right now, I might actually lose my mind.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

“Not like this.”

I forced a laugh.

“I’m fine, babe. I need sleep.”

She studied me for another moment, then shrugged.

“Fine. But you’re telling me everything tomorrow. And I mean everything.”

“Deal.”

I dragged myself off the couch and headed for the bathroom before she could ask anything else.

The hot water felt good against my skin, but it didn’t wash away the feeling sitting in my chest.

I kept seeing that girl’s face.

Help me.

I closed my eyes.

Then I saw the bracelet.

Cleyton’s hand snatching it away from me.

Antonio’s cold voice.

Find out everything about Lucia Abato.

I turned off the shower.

“Enough,” I whispered to myself.

I wasn’t going to spend the entire night torturing myself over something that might not even concern me.

Except it did concern me.

Didn’t it?

I dried myself, changed into my nightclothes, and climbed into bed.

The room was dark except for the faint light coming through the curtains.

I stared at the ceiling.

What if I had made a mistake taking that job?

What if Cleyton knew it was me who had been listening?

What if Antonio already knew?

And Veronica…

My throat tightened.

What if I ended up like her?

I sat up so quickly the blanket slid off my legs.

“No.”

The word came out louder than I’d intended.

I looked around my empty room and let out a nervous laugh.

“Get a grip, Lucia.”

But my hands were cold.

I pulled the blanket over myself and turned to face the wall, trying to force my thoughts somewhere else.

Eventually, exhaustion won.

I fell asleep.

⸻

By morning, I had almost convinced myself that I’d been overreacting.

Almost.

Sunlight slipped through the curtains, landing right across my face.

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head.

Five more minutes.

My phone buzzed beside me.

I reached for it without opening my eyes, hoping it was a message telling me I had somehow become rich overnight and never had to work at Crimson Club again.

No such luck.

Just notifications.

I scrolled through them lazily, clearing a few before opening my social media feed.

Then I saw the post.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at.

A crowd stood around something in the middle of a street. There were police officers in the background, and people had gathered behind what looked like a cordon.

The caption was in Italian.

I frowned and read it again.

Then I saw the photograph properly.

A man’s body lay on the road.

His head was several feet away.

For a moment, my brain refused to process what my eyes were seeing.

I stopped breathing.

Then I zoomed in.

And immediately wished I hadn’t.

“No. No, no, no.”

My fingers went numb around the phone.

I knew that shirt.

I’d seen it last night.

The unbuttoned collar. The expensive watch. The ugly gold ring on his finger.

The man who had slapped me.

The same man Antonio had punched twice before ordering his guards to drag him away.

He was dead.

Someone had cut off his head and thrown his body into the street like rubbish.

I dropped the phone onto the bed.

“Oh, my God.”

I pressed both hands over my mouth.

They killed him.

The thought kept repeating itself, louder each time.

They killed him.

I didn’t know who had done it. I didn’t know whether Antonio had ordered it or whether someone else had decided the man deserved to die.

My stomach turned.

I stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom, barely making it before I threw up.

For several minutes, I stayed bent over the toilet, my eyes watering.

When I finally stood, I looked at myself in the mirror.

My face was pale. My hair was a mess. I looked like someone who had spent the night crying.

Which was ridiculous.

I hadn’t cried.

Not yet, anyway.

I splashed water on my face and gripped the edge of the sink.

“I am not going to that club today.”

There.

Decision made.

They could fire me. They could keep my salary. They could do whatever they wanted.

I wasn’t going back there for any reason.

Okay, unless they paid a huge amount of money.

Because if that was what happened to someone who crossed the wrong person, what chance did I have?

I had no money saved. No powerful family or connections.

I was just Lucia Abato.

A waitress who had accidentally learned too much.

And apparently, that was enough to ruin my life.

I went back into my room and reached for my phone.

I needed to call Alessia.

She’d know what to say. Or at least she’d sit with me while I panicked and tell me I wasn’t going to die.

I called her.

But there was no answer.

I frowned and tried again.

Still nothing.

“Where the hell are you?”

I sent her a message, then tossed my phone onto the bed.

Maybe she’d gone out early.

Alessia did that sometimes without telling me where she was going. It was annoying, but I was too tired to worry about it.

Besides, I needed to eat.

If I was going to spend the entire day hiding inside my house, I might as well do it with pancakes.

I dragged myself into the kitchen, tied my hair back, and started mixing the batter.

Flour. Eggs. Milk.

I stared at the bowl.

Was I seriously standing here making pancakes while a man I’d seen last night was lying dead on a street somewhere?

Apparently, yes.

Because if I didn’t do something ordinary, I was going to lose my mind.

I poured the batter into the pan.

While the pancake cooked, I moved toward the window to open the blinds a little wider.

And stopped.

There was a black jeep parked directly outside the house.

Big and shiny, with tinted windows.

What was a car like this doing in this neighbourhood?