Chapter 9 - The Breakfast Of The Wolves
Dante Rossi stopped dead in his tracks five feet from the desk, his gaze darting from Matteo to Amara, who stood calmly beside the executive chair holding her coffee cup. A flicker of genuine confusion, quickly masked by a cool, arrogant smile, crossed Dante’s face. "Matteo," Dante said smoothly, spreading his hands in a welcoming gesture. "I received your urgent invitation for breakfast this morning. I must admit, calling a full leadership summit at eight in the morning is unusual, even for you. And who is this? A new secretary?" Matteo didn't move. He simply leaned back against the edge of the mahogany desk, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "Not a secretary, Dante," Matteo said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, icy calm that had made men twice his size back away. "This is Amara Greene. She’s my new chief operational strategist. She specializes in identifying toxic elements in high-level environments." Dante’s smile twitched for a microsecond before he recovered, laughing lightly. "Ah. Well, congratulations, Miss Greene. You certainly picked an interesting employer. Matteo, we have multi-million-dollar shipping contracts to review for the port expansion. Can we discuss business without unnecessary audience members?" "The shipping contracts are already audited," Amara spoke up, her voice cutting through the room with absolute clarity. She walked over to the desk, picked up a thick manila folder, and dropped it squarely in front of Dante. "Including the unauthorized diversion of industrial chemical solvents through Vane Chemical subsidiaries to unauthorized third parties in the restaurant supply sector." Dante’s face drained of color so fast it looked as if all the blood had been sucked out of him in a single second. The arrogant mask vanished, replaced by the cornered panic of a rat in a trap. He looked from Amara to Matteo, his hands twitching toward his jacket. "You're talking nonsense," Dante hissed, his voice rising in pitch. "Some waitress playing corporate games—" "The police have Carlo Bellini in custody," Matteo interrupted, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed off the desk and stood to his full height. "And the poison vial recovered from his station has your personal thumbprint smudged across the glass, Dante. Game over." Dante didn't hesitate any longer. He lunged for his concealed shoulder holster, screaming at his bodyguards to draw their weapons.
