Page 12 of Daddies of the Underworld

He waited until I’d sat before he leaned toward me. “Tell me everything you heard. Not only the words. The other sounds. The accents. Everything.” Matteo’s calm was the kind of thing that bordered on insanity.

How could he be this collected less than an hour after being shot at?

I’d been trapped in a closet, completely safe, and I still couldn’t stop shaking.

Then again, he probably dealt with this kind of drama every day.

“Start with where you were standing when you first heard the voices.” Matteo met my gaze and held it, everything about him steady and certain.

Unflappable. That’s the word my mother would have used.

I told him everything.

From the sound of the distinct accents to the exact phrasing and the pauses in between.

He didn’t interrupt and he waited until I finished to ask any clarifying questions.

When I finished, the first thing he asked was if I could replicate the accented voice’s phrasing.

I did my best, and he nodded.

“The word choice. When he said alliance. Did he say that in English?”

“Yes.”

“Would you say the voices were distinctive in age? Older? Younger?”

I thought about that instead of answering right away. “I have nothing to base this on other than hearing people talk all day, but I’d say middle-aged. There were no voice cracks or pitches that indicated a younger man, or any warbles or shifts that made me believe they were old, white-haired men. But beyond that?” I spread my hands to indicate I had no idea.

Matteo sat back and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle. “Were you frightened when you heard them?”

What did that have to do with anything? “I couldn’t.” It was an honest answer, but one I almost regretted when Matteo’s gaze sharpened.

“Most people run.” He said each word slowly. “Not only did you stay, but you defied your direct orders and told Luca.”

Wow. I would hate to be under a real interrogation by this guy. I licked my dry lips, unable to come up with an excuse.

Heat moved up the back of my neck, and I itched to rub it away. “Am I in danger?” I couldn’t get the rest of it out. Am I in danger from you?

Matteo understood, and the first slip of a smile cracked his facade. “Not from us, no. From those who would like us dead…probably.” The smile fell. “I would rather be cautious than wrong. Someone in the villa provided information about the summit. Private information. We’re working to determine who.”

The implication of it, along with the coldness that turned his face to ice, told me more than his words. Whoever had betrayed them would pay. Probably with their life. “You think it was someone on staff?”

“Possibly.” He shrugged. “Possibly a guest. Which means you were correct in your precision to tell Luca and no one else. We thank you for that.” He was gone before I could respond, which I suspected was intentional. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man who stood around after a conversation was finished.

Luca arrived an hour later, waltzing in like he owned the place.

Hell, maybe he did. I didn’t have a clue who’s name was on the deed. Didn’t really care.

He handed me a cup, then plopped onto the window seat across from me and drew one knee up. It was the most casual I’d ever seen him, and I didn’t trust it. Not one bit.

He tapped my knuckles where they wrapped around the cup. “You have the nicest suite we could find. For what it’s worth.”

I sniffed the contents in the mug, my eyes going wide when I recognized the sweet fragrance of my favorite creamer. I schooled my face into a scowl. “I’d trade it for my regular one.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He tilted his head toward the window. “That view is too extraordinary.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Is it your turn to question me?”