Chapter 3 - The Mafia Boss Made One Rule About MeI did not open my door.
Every survival instinct I possessed told me to stay exactly where I was.
Outside, the hallway had gone silent.
That silence lasted perhaps ten seconds.
It felt like ten minutes.
Then somebody hit the wall.
A grunt followed.
Footsteps.
Another impact.
I pressed one hand over my mouth.
Mateo spoke.
“Who sent you?”
No answer.
A second man spoke.
Luca.
“Boss.”
“I asked him a question.”
Then the stranger finally answered.
“Rossi.”
Silence.
Mateo’s voice changed.
“Take him downstairs.”
“What about—”
“Alive.”
Footsteps retreated.
I remained frozen.
Then came a knock.
Three soft taps.
“Elena.”
I said nothing.
“It’s Mateo.”
“I know.”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
A pause.
“That’s probably the smartest answer you’ve given me since we met.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
“What happened?”
“The situation is handled.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“I know.”
“Who was he?”
“Someone who won’t come back.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s the only answer I can give you tonight.”
I stared at the door.
“Go away, Mateo.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
His footsteps moved toward 4B.
Then stopped.
“You’re safe.”
I closed my eyes.
“That’s what people say right before something terrible happens.”
This time he did not respond.
The next morning, I opened my door and found Luca sitting in a chair in the hallway.
I nearly screamed.
“What are you doing?”
“Morning.”
“Why are you sitting outside my apartment?”
“Security.”
“I didn’t ask for security.”
“Mr. Falcone did.”
“Tell Mr. Falcone he can take his security and—”
Mateo’s door opened.
He emerged wearing a charcoal suit, looking perfectly composed for a man I had stitched together less than eight hours earlier.
“No.”
I glared at him.
“No what?”
“No sending Luca away.”
“You don’t control who sits outside my door.”
“Under normal circumstances, correct.”
“And these aren’t normal circumstances because?”
“Because Carlo Rossi knows where I live.”
“Who is Carlo Rossi?”
“A man who wants something from me.”
“What?”
“My territory.”
I stared.
“You actually say things like territory?”
“Unfortunately.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“At least we agree on something.”
I pointed at Luca.
“I’m going to work. He is not following me.”
“He is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Mateo—”
“Elena.”
His voice hardened.
The transformation was immediate.
Yesterday he had been my injured neighbor.
Now I saw the man other dangerous men obeyed.
“Someone came to your door last night because of me. Until I know Rossi’s people have lost interest in you, Luca stays close.”
“You don’t get to make that decision.”
“You’re right.”
I blinked.
That was not what I expected.
Mateo continued.
“You should make the decision yourself. But you should make it knowing the truth. Rossi’s man believed you witnessed something. If he reports that you’re connected to me, others may believe the same thing.”
“I’m not connected to you.”
“I know.”
“Then tell them.”
“That isn’t how men like Rossi think.”
“And how do men like Rossi think?”
Mateo’s expression became grim.
“They look for leverage.”
The word landed heavily.
I thought of someone grabbing me in a parking garage.
Following me home.
Waiting outside the hospital.
“Fine.”
Mateo nodded.
“Luca will—”
“I said fine. I didn’t say I liked it.”
“You rarely seem to like anything involving me.”
“Your observational skills are incredible.”
His mouth twitched.
For the next four days, Luca became my shadow.
He drove behind me to the hospital.
He sat in the visitor cafeteria.
He waited during my shifts.
He followed me home.
My coworkers noticed.
Naturally.
Chloe cornered me in the medication room.
“Who is the enormous Italian man following you?”
“Security.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You have security?”
“Temporarily.”
“Why?”
“Because my neighbor may be involved in organized crime.”
Chloe stared at me.
Then whispered, “I knew it.”
“This is not exciting.”
“It is a little exciting.”
“No. It’s terrifying.”
“Is he hot?”
“Chloe.”
“That means yes.”
I shoved supplies into a drawer harder than necessary.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, it absolutely matters.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
But the problem was that it did.
I had started noticing things.
Mateo leaving coffee outside my door because he knew I started early.
Mateo texting only once to ask whether Luca was bothering me.
Mateo sending a contractor to repair the broken bathroom cabinet Mr. Lynn had ignored for eight months.
I sent the contractor away.
Mateo sent him back with a note.
The building owner approved it.
I discovered something else that afternoon.
The building owner was Mateo.
I stormed into 4B after work.
He was sitting behind a laptop.
“You bought the building?”
He looked up.
“Yes.”
“You are the new owner?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the reason I was moved?”
His expression shifted.
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
“My landlord said the new owner wanted lease restructuring.”
“I bought the property through one of my companies. I requested apartment 4B because I needed a unit with a secondary exit and a clear sightline to the rear alley.”
My anger faltered.
“A secondary exit?”
“For security.”
“You specifically requested my apartment?”
“I requested 4B. I was told it was vacant.”
“It obviously wasn’t.”
“I learned that when I met you.”
“So Mr. Lynn lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been asking the same question.”
A cold sensation moved through me.
“What did you find?”
Mateo closed the laptop.
“Elena, sit down.”
“I hate when people say that.”
“Sit.”
“No.”
He sighed.
“Your landlord received fifty thousand dollars three days before I moved in.”
“From you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A company connected to Carlo Rossi.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“We don’t know why yet.”
“You think moving me was intentional?”
“I think it’s possible.”
My pulse accelerated.
“But Rossi didn’t know me.”
“Maybe this was never about you.”
“Then why move me?”
Mateo leaned back.
“4C shares a ventilation shaft and utility wall with 4B.”
I stared.
“I don’t understand.”
“If someone wanted surveillance close to my apartment, 4C would be useful.”
My stomach dropped.
“You think my apartment is bugged?”
“I think we should assume it is.”
I thought about everything I had done in 4C.
Phone calls.
Conversations.
Changing clothes.
Sleeping.
My skin crawled.
Mateo immediately understood.
“I’ll have a female security specialist search the apartment.”
“I want to be there.”
“You will.”
“And nobody touches anything without telling me.”
“Agreed.”
Two hours later, they found the microphone.
It was inside the smoke detector.
Small.
Professional.
Installed recently.
I stared at it in Mateo’s palm.
“That was above my bed.”
His jaw tightened.
“Luca.”
“Yes?”
“Find Lynn.”
Something about the way he said it made me uneasy.
“What are you going to do to him?”
Mateo looked at me.
“Ask questions.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
“No killing.”
The room went silent.
Luca looked at me like I had just told gravity to stop working.
Mateo raised one eyebrow.
“You’re giving me rules now?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“I mean it.”
He stepped closer.
“Elena, your landlord accepted money from men who placed surveillance equipment over the bed of a woman living alone.”
“I know.”
“He endangered you.”
“I know.”
“And you’re worried about him?”
“I’m worried about what you become when you decide you’re allowed to punish people however you want.”
For a long moment, Mateo said nothing.
Then he handed the microphone to Luca.
“Find him.”
Luca nodded.
“Alive?”
Mateo kept his eyes on mine.
“Alive.”
That night, I slept in 4B.
Not because I wanted to.
Because Mateo refused to let me stay in 4C until it had been completely searched.
He took the couch.
I took my old bedroom.
It should have felt strange.
Instead, stepping into the room felt like coming home.
My old curtains were gone.
My photographs were gone.
But the familiar shape of the room remained.
At 3:00 a.m., I woke thirsty.
Mateo was still awake on the couch.
“You don’t sleep?”
“Sometimes.”
“That sounds healthy.”
He looked at me.
“Neither does working thirteen-hour shifts.”
“Touché.”
I got water.
When I turned, he was watching me.
“What?”
“Why did you make me promise not to kill Lynn?”
“I didn’t make you promise.”
“You tried.”
“Because I spend my life keeping people alive.”
“And I spend mine dealing with people who threaten the ones under my protection.”
“I’m not under your protection.”
“You are now.”
My heart did something inconvenient.
“I never agreed to that.”
“No.”
“Then stop saying it.”
Mateo stood.
He moved closer.
Not touching.
Just close enough that I could feel the heat from him.
“Someone put a listening device above your bed because you live beside me.”
His voice dropped.
“I don’t care whether you agree with me, Elena. Until this ends, nobody touches you.”
My breath caught.
“That sounds less like protection and more like ownership.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth.
Then returned to my eyes.
“There’s a difference.”
“What difference?”
“Ownership is about what I want.”
He stepped back.
“Protection is about what you need.”
I stood there, unable to answer.
He walked toward the couch.
Then his phone rang.
Mateo answered.
His expression hardened.
“When?”
A pause.
“Where?”
Another pause.
Then he looked at me.
“Keep him there.”
He ended the call.
“Luca found Lynn.”
“And?”
Mateo picked up his jacket.
“He says he didn’t install the microphone.”
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Mateo opened the door.
Before leaving, he looked back at me.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
He disappeared into the hallway.
At 4:12 a.m., my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed me entering City General that morning.
May you like
Underneath were seven words.
TELL FALCONE THE NURSE BELONGS TO US NOW.
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