Chapter 40
Dominic POV
It was only a matter of time before someone started sniffing around.
Dominic had known that from the beginning, or rather, from the second Leonardo’s body hit the floor of the reception hall and from the moment Theo’s blood spilled across the wood floors of the penthouse, that those loose ends, no matter how tightly woven, always had a way of unraveling.
Currently, Theo’s father, Matteo, was beginning to pull at those threads.
The first rumblings reached Dominic two days after the agreement to marry Aurora was voted on unanimously. Romero found him in his study once again, folding his arms tightly over his chest while tension bled from his very stance.
“He’s asking questions,” he told Dominic the second he looked up from his laptop. “Matteo.”
“Regarding?”
Romero grunted. “Mainly about Theo’s death but he has been sending out feelers regarding the bratva behind everyone else’s back.”
Dominic hummed low in his throat. Interesting.
Honestly, he didn’t think the old man had it in him. He’d covered for his son’s devious ways for years, had gone through the painstaking motions of keeping him in line while slipping past Leonardo’s strict intolerance for bullshit.
More than once Dominic had witness Theo getting the shit slapped out of him for fucking something up, yet within a day or so be put on another project in order to keep up appearances.
He never quite understood what the point in keeping Theo around was for instead of doing something so simple such as sending him off to some underground mission where there was very little he could fuck up.
Then again, Dominic wasn’t the type to coddle anyone. Least of all a grown adult child.
“He wants an investigation,” Romero continued. “Regarding Theo’s death. Real evidence. Paper trails. Witnesses from the bar that night.”
“Let him look,” Dominic said mildly.
He’d made sure to create a convincing coverup on the off chance Matteo got the balls to look into it. While none of it was perfect because it was completely fabricated from nothing, there was enough evidence to create a well-rounded story.
Theo’s instability and overly toxic need to be the most alpha personality in the room led him to more trouble than not. A bar fight gone wrong was completely plausible, if not expected. If Matteo actually had the time to dedicate to looking into his son’s death, then that would only count against him.
He was needed at the forefront of this alliance resurgence, not skulking around the slum streets of the city looking for witnesses to corroborate a story most would’ve been too drunk to recall that night anyway.
“You’re sure he won’t find something?”
Dominic finally lifted his gaze. “There’s nothing for him to find that won’t be completely circumstantial.”
He nodded slowly.
“You took care of the body that way I asked you to?”
Romero nodded again.
“Good.” Dominic leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers together. “As long as you cleaned the Theo situation personally, all will be fine. As for the bratva, leave that to me. I’ve got it handled internally with the rest of my father’s men and the Carusos.”
Romero’s jaw flexed. “Understood. Though, a word of warning, Matteo isn’t going to let it go easily. He’s grieving and desperate. That’s a dangerous combination.”
Dominic smiled, slow and razor-sharp. “Let him chase his tail. The longer he looks in all the wrong places, the more mistakes he’ll make. It will be much easier to get rid of him that way.”
“Yes. True.”
Dominic turned back to his laptop, the faint buzz of satisfaction humming in his veins.
The game was still his. As long as he kept his pieces moving, no one would ever know the truth.
It wasn’t until later that week that Matteo made his first move.
Dominic was overseeing the arrival of a new shipment at one of their docks—a legitimate operation on the books in order to keep the local authorities that hadn’t been paid to look the other way out of their business.
The humid air clung to his skin while the scent of oil and saltwater hung thick in the air.
He was walking the perimeter when he spotted Matteo standing by a large stack of cargo containers with his arms crossed and face set in grim scowl.
Dominic handed the clipboard in his hand off to one of the dock’s men and approached with slow, deliberate steps.
The former consigliere didn’t bother with pleasantries as soon as he was within earshot. “When’s the last time you saw my son?”
Dominic tilted his head slightly. “Theo?”
The man’s eyes burned. “Don’t play dumb with me, Dominic.”
He gave the other a nonchalant shrug. “It had been a while before his passing that I saw him. He liked to wander, didn’t he? Always had a taste for trouble.”
Matteo took a step forward, uncrossing his arms in order to clench his fists at his sides.
Dominic didn’t flinch.
“You know damn well you two had plenty of altercations before he died,” the older man growled. “I want answers. About him. About what happened between you two. All of it.”
“You’re grieving,” he said, dropping his voice to sound more soothing than usual. A fake sympathetic nod accompanied it. “It’s understandable you have questions. Therefore, I’ll excuse your tone. This time.”
The former consigliere’s jaw tightened.
“But let me remind you of something,” Dominic continued, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of air between them. “Infighting right now? After everything that’s happened with the bratva? Would be suicide. You’re already struggling to keep your people together. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can afford enemies internally.”
Matteo’s face twisted into a snarl, but something in his posture shifted—hesitated.
Dominic saw it for what it was: fear.
Not enough to make him back down completely but the slow start of it to make him second-guess pushing Dominic any further.
The older man leaned in, his voice a low, venomous hiss. “You may think you have certain cards up your sleeve, but don’t get too comfortable. Power has a way of making people blind to reality.”
Dominic’s smile sharpened into something feral.
“I’m counting on it,” he whispered back.
For a long, tense moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a muttered curse, Matteo turned and stalked away, disappearing into the maze of cargo. Dominic watched him go, his face slipping back into the familiar impassive mask he always wore, but inside, adrenaline sang through his veins.
Just as Romero had warned him, he was playing a dangerous game. One wrong move, one whisper in the wrong ear, and it could all come crashing down.
But the truth of the matter was he had never been afraid of danger.
In fact, he thrived in it.
With Leonardo rotting in the ground and Aurora soon to be legally bound to him, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to secure his throne this close to the finish line.
He’d bury them all without hesitation the moment he got the chance to, without any regret lingering like a long forgotten ghost from his past .
And without mercy to stop him from carrying it all out to fruition.
