Marry another girl and try not to make her miserable, you filthy manwhore.
Perhaps we should’ve got her an audition here as well.
I should’ve suspected something. Sofia’s been unhappy ever since the night of my Seconda when she caught Carlo being serviced by a couple of whores by the pool, the same night when I found her with her tub of ice cream and kiss-swollen lips crying in her bedroom and sent her to my wife. I just didn’t think she was this stupid. Or this brave. This is more like something Frankie or Gia might try. Or Caterina.
No, Caterina bravely walked down that aisle to marry me despite having every reason to believe I would hurt her because of what her brother had done. When I tried to make her brothers angry by kissing her roughly at the ceremony, she bit me, defiance dancing in those beautiful brown eyes. She didn’t scream or cry when the Bratva attacked us. She held a knife to my throat when she thought I’d cheated on her. She fears my father, but she does not cower before him like my stepmother. My wife is strong, and she’s too courageous to simply run away.
But she might help another girl try to, especially one she loves. Even if it meant betraying me.
Shoving the useless, wounded feelings that thought provokes aside, I focus on the hunt. It’s been twenty minutes at best, and Sofia still would’ve had to make it out of the school without drawing too much attention to herself.
Cutting down 65thon foot, I bump into a man near my height with reddish brown hair and a beard. After I rush past him, I promptly turn back around. I only caught a glimpse of him but he looked… familiar. I start to follow him when I see Armando hurrying my way. In a blink, the man I bumped into has disappeared in the hectic flow of New Yorkers. They’re fucking everywhere.
“Anything?” I ask Armando. He shakes his head.
Carlo and his two guards are exiting the building from another door. My wife and Frankie are close behind them. This is a fucking shit show. I snarl at Armando to watch over the women. I don’t trust these New York guys any further than I can throw them. I must keep searching for my sister. Her life could be at stake. Her beauty is well-known in our world and so is her face. The fucking Bratva would be foaming at the mouth for a chance to hold a De Luca girl hostage.
Then, I see something else that makes my blood boil – Nico and Dante Morelli. What the fuck are they doing here?
All at once, a million shards of mistrust burrow under my skin. Caterina was abrupt on the phone and didn’t seem to want me here. Sofia didn’t plot this on her own. But why them? Why the hell would Sofia turn tothemfor help?
Because my Morelli wife would convince her to trust them.
Because maybe I shouldn’t trust Nico’s little sister any more than my father trusted my mother.
I’m in the mood to shoot first and ask questions later when I draw my gun and stalk toward the brothers, ready for blood… and ready for vengeance.
30
Caterina
I’ve been sick with worry for fourteen hours straight. I have a feeling the worst is yet to come. When Sofia excuses herself to the restroom, I offer to accompany her. She shakes her blonde head, and I know then that this is part of the plan, and it might be the last time I’ll ever lay eyes on her. Will Alessio be hurt by his sister going missing? What about Gia and Valdo? I even feel pity for Bibi, knowing how much she prizes her beautiful younger daughter.
But Sofia’s chance to escape an unwanted marriage is in her grasp. I can’t bring myself to spoil it for her. As the minutes tick by, it’s a struggle not to break down in tears while Frankie is singing her heart out on stage. At least Carlo is completely absorbed by her performance. He hasn’t noted Sofia’s prolonged absence yet. I don’t know what the plan is, but I know I purposely tried my best to keep Alessio away from here today.Betrayal.The word hangs heavily around me.
A guard rushes in clutching a note to announce that she’s missing. Carlo immediately starts organizing a search. Time speeds up, words and actions passing in a blur, but I pick up on one thing the men don’t after we’re told to follow them outside – things didn’t go as planned.
“Oh God,” Frankie whispers while the men are busy shouting and running around.
“What?” I whisper back, clutching her arm.
“He’s alone. He was supposed to drive her away from here.”
“He who?”
The sidewalk is full of unfamiliar faces and I get no answer before Carlo turns to us, the piece of paper he was handed crumpled into a ball in his fist. “Francesca, I want you and Mrs. De Luca to wait with my driver until more of my men arrive. You’ll be safer there.”
Just a year older than my husband but destined to be Don since his birth, Carlo Vicini is crisp and polished in a way Alessio never will be. But while he sounds calm for a jilted groom, I sense a great deal of rage lurking under the surface. He reminds me of Nico that way. I hope not to be anywhere near him when he suspects our involvement because I’m certain that calm façade will disappear in a heartbeat.
A moment later, my mouth falls open in surprise. Alessio is here. I should’ve known he would come.
But I’m concerned to see him staring across the street, his blue eyes flinty and soulless. With a gasp, I recognize who’s got his attention. My brothers. What aretheydoing here?
The memory of the audio recording comes rushing back to me. Did Nico hear it? Are they here to confront Alessio? They were coming to New York for the wedding anyway, but how the hell would they know to find us here? And, the timing… It's a nightmare.
Alessio is more than ready for a clash as he draws a gun. I have to do something.
I dart across the busy street without a thought, racing to get between my brothers and my husband. Honking horns and screeching tires, none of it matters in the heat of the moment. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
