Page 83 of Sinful Bride

“Hell, we don’t have to have them at all.” I shake my head. “We’ll wait as long as she needs."

"That's good."

"There's something else," I say. "The attack on the shipment. Elena pointed out something I missed." I tell him about her logic, how the attack should have targeted both sides if the goal was to stop Irish-Italian cooperation. And about her suspicion of Dante Moretti. Lachlan listens without interrupting. When I'm done, he's frowning.

"She's right. If someone wanted to stop the alliance, they'd want both families to distrust each other. Attacking only your men doesn't accomplish that."

"So what does it accomplish?"

"It makes you look weak. It makes you look like you can't protect your own people." He pauses. "And it gives the Capettis plausible deniability. They can claim they were victims too, that they lost the shipment just like you did."

"But they didn't lose men."

"Exactly." He sets his mug down. "You need to question Dante Moretti. Today."

"That's what Elena said."

"Then your wife is smart." He smiles thinly. "Be careful, Declan. If he is a plant and he's been feeding information to the Capettis, then they know too much about your organization. Your weaknesses, your plans, your vulnerabilities. They could be planning something bigger."

The thought makes my blood run cold. "I'll handle it."

"I know you will." He claps me on the shoulder. "And give her time. Let her come to you. Don't push."

"I won't."

"Good." He walks me to the door. "And for what it's worth? I think you two are going to be okay. You just need to trust each other."

The word echoes in my head as I drive back to the penthouse. Trust is what got my men killed. Trust is what let a spy into my organization. Trust is dangerous in this world.

But maybe, it's also the only thing that can save us.

—

Dante Moretti arrives at my office looking relaxed and confident. "Boss." He nods respectfully as he enters. "You wanted to see me?"

"Sit." I gesture to the chair across from my desk.

He sits, crossing one ankle over his knee casually. He looks unconcerned. "What can I do for you?"

I study him for a moment, looking for tells, for signs of nervousness or guilt. But he's good. His expression is open, his posture relaxed. If he's hiding something, he's hiding it well.

"I wanted to talk about the shipment," I say finally.

"The one that was attacked?" He shakes his head. "Terrible business. I heard you lost a lot of good men."

"Eight of them. The last one passed this morning."

"I'm sorry." He sounds like he means it. "If there's anything I can do⁠—"

"Actually, there is." I lean back in my chair. "I'm trying to understand what happened. How they knew where we'd be."

"Inside information, probably." He shrugs. "Someone must have talked."

"That's what I thought too." I watch his face carefully. "But here's what I don't understand. If the goal was to stop Irish-Italian cooperation, why only attack my men? Why not hit the Capettis too?"

Something flickers across his face, just for a second. Then it's gone, replaced by that same easy confidence. "Maybe they didn't have the resources to hit both sides."

"Or maybe they only wanted to hit one side." I lean forward. "Maybe they wanted to make me look weak while keeping the Capettis clean."