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I thought nothing of it as I used my key to let myself into the stock room. Grabbing as many rolls as I could hold, I turned to leave and realized I’d let the door shut with my key on the outside lock.
To prevent theft, the door had an auto-lock feature, not that a portable saw wouldn’t shred through the wooden door easily.
I set the rolls down on a shelf and turned the door handle.
No movement.
I patted it.
Nothing.
Scouring the room for something to pry the door open, I came up empty. Fuck.
I slammed my palms onto the wood and shouted out, hoping someone could hear me.
Relief swept through my body as the doorknob twisted open, but I faltered when I caught sight of the man on the other side.
I recognized him from the bar. Not an enforcer, but sometimes he’d drink with that crew as they entered.
He looked dangerous, but I knew I could take him on… at the risk of blowing my cover.
I balled my fists and held them in front of me, ready for a fight in case I needed to. He laughed, throwing his head back at the sight of my fighting stance.
“Cute.” He shut the door behind him. “I love it when they fight.”
I swallowed as I watched the door swing shut, locking me in here with him. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I love it when they try and talk me out of it, too.” He took a lazy step forward.
“You won’t get away with this. Think about it. There are hundreds of people in the restaurant and the bar. Witnesses.”
He tsked. “He said. She said. Unless they actually see this happening, no one can prove a thing.”
His truth settled into my bones as he circled around me like a shark ready to attack, and I scanned his body for weak points, somewhere I could launch the first strike.
I didn’t need to.
The door swung open, and there stood Bastian. He leaned against it, using his body to keep it open.
His arms crossed as he took in the scene, his eyes quickly assessing my body and stance before lifting to the man.
“Look at her again, and she will be the last beautiful thing you see.”
He talked as if he owned me.
I understood why.
He was laying claim to me, knowing his status would ensure this man wouldn’t pick a fight with me anymore. Not that anyone would disobey an order from Bastiano Romano regardless.
Still, his compliment had my lips parting, and he knew it because his eyes shifted and narrowed on them.
Beautiful.
He’d called me beautiful.
You’re supposed to be gathering intel, I reminded myself.
Except so far, L’Oscurità had been painfully absent of intelligence. Perhaps Asher Black had truly gone clean and, with him, his restaurant.
