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“What?”
I’d barely had time to sit down at the desk in my office an hour ago before the barrage of business requests, phone calls, and drop-ins started.
As if now that I was in Malta, managing the business in person, everybody and their next-door neighbor needed things handled by me personally. This, on top of my mind being constantly distracted by images of my princess creeping up and hijacking my concentration.
Her reaction to Bridget calling me Master was intriguing. She wasn’t shocked. Wasn’t surprised either.
Instead, she looked almost intrigued before she put her mask back on and looked at me with the same signature annoyance she had all day.
Fuck.
“There’s something you need to see.”
I sighed, leaned back, and stared at Matt. “What now?”
Matt rounded the desk, pushed me aside, took control of my computer, and pulled up security footage of…the beach club?
“Shouldn’t the club be closed by now?”
He nodded. “We had a special booking. Private party—willing to shell out the big bucks.”
“And?”
“And there’s a little complication.”
“As in?” I was getting exasperated with him dragging this out.
“See for yourself. “He straightened and turned the monitor.
I saw a group of people, some chilling in the lounge area, some dancing. Nothing that looked like a complication I had to be bothered about. “So?”
“Well…” He pointed at a couple dancing.
The woman’s back was facing the camera, and in the dim light, I couldn’t identify the guy. “What about them?”
“You don’t recognize him?”
I looked closer.
Then sucked in air.
Franco Moretti was the youngest Moretti. Technically, my half-brother. The same Morettis I was almost certain had hired the guy who stole Fee’s purse. The same Morettis whom I strongly suspected had ordered a hit on our home. “What the fuck?”
The woman threw her head back in laughter, then patted Moretti’s cheek, then they both turned.
My stomach tightened, and fire flushed through my body. I jumped up. “What the fuck?”
The woman on camera suspiciously resembled the woman I had spent the day with, the woman who had wiggled her bratty self into my thoughts and into my mind.
She’d gotten snatched up by the other guy, who grabbed her by her waist and slow-danced with her.
And I saw red.
I was out the door without a second thought.
I could feel Matt behind me, but the fury whipping through my body had my field of vision narrowed to a small tunnel.
What the fuck was Fee doing dancing with Franco Moretti? And what the fuck was Franco Moretti doing in my club?
