Chapter 3 - The Security File
"You're insane," I breathed, pushing against his solid chest. It was like pushing against a marble statue. He didn't budge an inch.
"Perhaps," Luca agreed easily. He finally took a step back, giving me enough room to breathe, though the air in the suite felt entirely depleted of oxygen.
I spun away from the window, desperate to put some physical distance between us. I walked toward the massive executive desk sitting in the center of the room. It was littered with architectural blueprints, a half-empty espresso cup, and an open leather-bound portfolio.
As I passed the desk, my eyes caught something on the glowing screen of his open iPad.
I stopped.
I wasn't someone who snooped. Eighteen months as the receptionist to the notoriously private CEO of Castellani Industries had taught me to keep my eyes forward and my mouth shut. There were rumors, of course. Whispers that Castellani Industries was just a clean corporate front for a much older, much darker family business. Whispers of the Sicilian mafia, of unrecorded imports, of men who disappeared when they crossed the Castellani family. I had always ignored them.
But I couldn't ignore the screen.
At the top of the digital dossier, in bold black letters, was my name.
THORNTON, MERA.
STATUS: PRIORITY ONE ASSET.
PROTECTION DETAIL: ACTIVE (SHADOW TEAM B).
My blood ran cold. I reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the iPad.
Luca didn't stop me. He stood near the window, watching me with a terrifying, absolute calm.
I scrolled down. The file wasn't just an HR document. It was a comprehensive, horrifyingly detailed surveillance log of my entire life. There were photographs. Me walking into my apartment building. Me buying groceries on a Sunday afternoon. Me sitting at a coffee shop reading a book.
There were logs of my text messages. Bank statements. A detailed layout of my apartment's security system.
And then, a section labeled INTERVENTIONS.
Date: October 14. Target: Marcus Vance. Action taken: Verbal intimidation by Operative Silvio. Target relocated to secondary branch.
Date: December 2. Target: Thomas Reed (Best Man). Action taken: Background check executed. Financial pressure applied to Reed's firm. Pending further instruction.
I dropped the iPad. It clattered loudly against the mahogany desk.
I looked up at the man standing across the room, the man I had baked cookies for, the man I had secretly harbored a foolish, innocent crush on for a year and a half. I was looking at a monster.
"Shadow Team B?" I choked out, my voice thick with horror. "You have men following me? Taking pictures of me at the grocery store?"
"I have men protecting you," Luca corrected, his tone completely flat, devoid of any apology. "Chicago is a dangerous city, Mera. And my enemies are always looking for a weakness."
"I am a receptionist!" I yelled, the shock finally giving way to a white-hot, blinding panic. "I am not a weakness! I am an employee! Why would your enemies care about me?"
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Luca’s jaw clenched. The cold, impenetrable mask he wore every single day suddenly fractured. He took three long strides across the room, completely ignoring the desk between us, pulling me around the edge of the mahogany wood until I was flush against him.
"Because," Luca snarled, his composure completely snapping, "every single man in my organization knows that if they want to bring me to my knees, all they have to do is put a gun to your head!"
