Page 7 of Sexted By a Stranger

Luca

"Boss, Ragnar's back."

Lennox's voice interrupted my thoughts about Sheila. Her unique spirit and backbone were worth more than any jewel. I'd planned to invite her to dinner tonight, but it seemed that would have to wait.

"Send him in."

Ragnar pushed through the door, his face serious as always.

"Job's done, Boss." His report was clipped. "Wiped out Marchese's footholds. All of 'em."

"Clean." I exhaled a plume of smoke. "Their product?"

"Absorbed." Ragnar's voice went cold as a blade. "Their Bronx dope operation's crippled."

A slow nod. When punks overreach, brute force is the only grammar they understand.

"Boss." Lennox entered at that moment, expression grave. "There's another situation."

I didn't even lift my eyes. "Speak."

Lennox stepped forward, sliding a tablet silently before me.

The screen lit up, displaying not financial reports but shocking crime scene photos—twisted shipping containers, large patches of dark brown stains not yet fully dried on the ground, a work boot covered in mud and dark red coagulated matter in the corner, a stiff ankle visible at the boot's opening.

"Brooklyn Pier Three." Lennox's voice was ice-cold. "Our people—eight elites, forty-seven soldiers, all gone. The shipment... hijacked." He paused. "It was 'Polaris.'"

Crack.

The pen tip punctured the tough cardstock beneath without warning, driving deep into the expensive mahogany desktop, leaving an ugly ink stain.

Polaris. The shipment just arrived by sea, worth nearly ten million dollars, and more importantly, the lifeline for opening new East Coast channels—new weapons technology.

Cold, violent killing intent shot straight to my head. I slowly leaned back in my chair, gaze moving from the tablet screen to Lennox's tense face.

"Who did this?" My voice was unnaturally calm, calm like the dead sea before a storm.

"The Frat. From the methods, it's Connor's pack of mad dogs.

" Lennox spoke rapidly. "They used heavy firepower, caught us completely off guard.

Time, location, route—so precise it's like someone fed them the intel on a silver platter.

" He added meaningfully, "As for the shipment, word is it's already been dispersed out of New York.

We're still tracking specific destinations. "

"Also, Boss." Lennox's face darkened. "These past few days, our movements have been predicted. Yesterday's dock attack—they knew our transport time and route precisely. The day you went to rescue her, Connor's men had other arrangements, but we drove them off."

Connor, that mangy dog, dared to move against me. We had a rat.

"Boss," Lennox hesitated. "I have a suspicion."

"About Sheila Stella." His voice was quiet but crystal clear in the silent room. "Connor's interest in her is unusually intense, and..."

"And what?" My tone carried a warning.

"Since you've been in contact with her, our operations have been leaked.

Her timing was too convenient. In a place like that club, she just happened to catch your attention.

Now, right after she gets close to you, our operations keep getting hit.

Could her brother's illness be a ploy? Could her approaching you be. .."

Ragnar nodded too. "Boss, Connor's men are still asking about her these past few days. If she's just an ordinary waitress—"

"You're saying she's Connor's plant?" My voice was cold as ice.

"I can't be certain, but the timing is too coincidental. And," Lennox said seriously, "you're paying her too much attention."

I looked at them quietly. Logic told me their suspicions made sense.

But Sheila—those amber eyes filled with stubbornness, fragility, and the pure passion that bloomed beneath me last night... She was a plant? Connor's chess piece? A femme fatale using her brother's terminal illness as cover?

Bullshit.

The bone-deep despair when she endured massive humiliation for her family couldn't be faked.

The design sketches piled high in her apartment, soaked with sweat and dreams, couldn't be false.

These past days, she'd been practically glued to my side, never even touched my phone, and even hesitated at my gifts. She absolutely couldn't be a plant.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, they were bottomless pools of ice.

"Ragnar."

"Boss."

"Dig into it." My voice regained its steadiness.

"Turn over every stone. Find the rat. Tear them to pieces.

As for Connor, that maggot—you take two teams. 24/7 surveillance.

Every breath. Every piss. Every whisper.

Also," my voice went colder, "since he wants to play big, we'll play to the end.

Round up all district heads. Meeting tonight at the usual place. "

"Yes," Ragnar responded deeply, bloodthirsty ferocity blazing in his eyes.

"As for Sheila," I sat back in my chair, gaze profound. "Lennox, do a detailed investigation. Put ghosts on her—our best. Shield her from Connor's fleas. Her brother's side, too—arrange our people for increased protection."

Surprise flashed through Lennox's eyes before he responded, "Copy that, Boss."

"Remember," I turned, gaze sharp. "She doesn't get a scratch. I don't want her frightened in any way."

"Yes."

After they left, I picked up the vibrating phone on my desk. Seeing Sheila's number on the screen, I answered.

"Luca, I have good news." Sheila's voice sounded excited. "I've already told Madeline about resigning. She supported my decision and told me to come handle the paperwork. And Leon's surgery went smoothly. My mom said thank you."

"Good." My voice unconsciously softened. "When are you going to handle the paperwork?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"I'll go with you," I said.

"You don't have to, it's just simple paperwork—"

"I'll go with you," I interrupted. "Connor's people are still out there."

The other end went quiet for a few seconds, then she said softly, "Okay, thank you."

"What time?"

"Ten in the morning."

"I'll pick you up at nine-thirty."

"Okay."

The next day, I arrived at Sheila's apartment building on time.

The window rolled down as I watched her hurry out from the narrow stairwell. Simple white shirt, black pants, hair neatly tied back, revealing her smooth forehead and graceful neckline. Morning light outlined her slender but straight figure, fresh as a white gardenia with morning dew.

She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, bringing a faint, clean scent of soap.

"Good morning." She smiled at me, amber eyes clear as crystal.

"Good morning." I started the car, pulling out smoothly. "Sleep well?"

"Okay." She buckled her seatbelt, fingers unconsciously twisting together. "It's just... Leon starts observation for rejection reactions today. I'm a bit nervous." Her brows furrowed slightly, all concern for her loved one.

"It'll go smoothly," I reassured. "Top medical team watching over him. Don't worry."

Her fingers twisted and released, gaze occasionally drifting out the window, clearly unable to stop worrying.

The car stopped in the back alley of Celestial. I didn't get out immediately. In the shadows at the distant street corner, a figure in a baseball cap quickly shrank back. Connor's people were indeed still watching.

"Wait." I pressed my hand on Sheila's wrist as she moved to open the door.

"What?" She turned her head, confusion in her eyes.

"Might be a little trouble," I said in a low voice, gaze still locked on where that figure disappeared. "Stay in the car. Lock the doors."

"No." She objected almost immediately, grabbing my arm in return. Not forcefully, but firmly. "I can't let you go alone. What if there's danger?"

This instinctive protectiveness sent ripples through my heart again. I pulled back my gaze, suppressing the urge to press her against the seat and kiss her senseless.

"Then we go together. Stay close to me."

Madeline was waiting in her office. Seeing me accompany Sheila, she immediately stood and straightened her clothes.

"Sheila, Mr. Bellomo." Her attitude was respectful. "It's an honor to meet you."

I nodded in acknowledgment.

"Please sit." Madeline gestured to us. "Sheila has told me about her resignation."

"Yes." Sheila nodded.

"I'm very happy for you, Sheila." Madeline's voice became warm. "You've found a better opportunity. This is good. I support your decision and wish you luck in the future."

The paperwork process went smoothly, mostly just simple document signing.

Sheila kept her head down, carefully signing her name. When she finished the last form, she let out a relieved breath and looked up, giving Madeline a genuine smile. "Thank you, Madeline. Thank you for taking care of me all this time."

Madeline stepped forward to hug Sheila. "Mr. Bellomo," Madeline's voice carried pleading, "Sheila is a good girl. Her family situation is rather special. I hope you'll take good care of her."

"Of course," I said seriously. "I will."

Just then, the office door pushed open. Connor's figure appeared in the doorway.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Bellomo?" His face wore a fake smile. "What a rare guest."

Sheila instinctively started to rise, but I pressed her down.

"Connor." My voice was ice. "Something you need?"

"Nothing major." Connor's gaze slithered like a greasy snake over Sheila. "Heard Sheila was leaving. Came to say goodbye."

"Already said." Sheila's voice carried barely detectable trembling, her body tensing slightly. She was clearly terrified of him.

"Leaving so soon?" Connor pressed forward a step, splitting into a nauseating grin. "Sheila, you've been here so long. Everyone will miss you. You should think twice."

"Let's go." I gripped Sheila's hand, walking straight toward the door, using my body to block Connor's view.

"He's so creepy," she whispered beside me, breath unsteady. "Luca, thank you for coming with me."

I opened the car door for her, voice firm as steel. "From now on, he won't bother you again."

As the car left the club, Connor's figure appeared in the rearview mirror, standing in the doorway, watching our departure with venom.

"Luca." Sheila turned abruptly, her gaze locking onto mine with an edge of scrutiny. "I've been meaning to ask. What exactly is your business?"

My grip tightened on the wheel, but my expression stayed impassive. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Curiosity." She pressed her lips together, meeting my eyes directly. "Connor and his crew… they look like they've seen a ghost when they hear your name." She paused, choosing her words. "You don't strike me as just some investor. You have… more than what's on the surface."

"Business is war, Sheila," I deflected, keeping it smooth. "To win, you gotta be meaner. Leave less on the table. After a while, you get a reputation." I glanced sideways, catching the flicker of confusion in her eyes.

She nodded thoughtfully, letting it drop.

The car merged into the Manhattan lunchtime crawl. Silence thickened in the cramped space. I checked the rearview – clean. Casually, I threw out, "Sheila, any plans for this afternoon?"

"Seeing Leon," she answered instantly, her voice lighter at her brother's name. "Doctors said longer visiting hours today."

"Good." I nodded. "Tonight. You and your mother stay at the hospital. Don't go back to the apartment."

She froze. Amber eyes wide with confusion. "But Leon's got the nurse—"

"For safety." My voice cut through hers, firm. My eyes held hers, intense. "Trust me."

She bit her lower lip, her lashes fluttering once. Then her gaze dropped. Softly, she said, "Alright. I trust you."

I watched her slender figure get swallowed by the hospital's glass doors. The last trace of warmth vanished from my eyes.

I spun the wheel. The black sedan shot forward like an arrow slicing through the afternoon sunlight, heading straight for Vesperwood Manor.

"Boss. We're set." Lennox pushed the door open, Ragnar a shadow behind him.

"All assembled?"

"Conference room," Ragnar confirmed. "As ordered. Everyone who knows about the recent ops."

I stood, straightening my suit jacket. Tonight, we root out the rot.