“Spit it out,” I demand.
Giovanni looks up from the chair he’s sitting in. His legs are crossed and his arms are relaxed against the chair, but I can tell he’s alert. He has a way of looking relaxed even in the most stressful situations. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t concerned.
“I can’t find Mrs. Corello,” the bodyguard admits.
“What?” I snap, getting to my feet.
“She’s not in her suite, and I can’t find her anywhere in the house,” the man stammers, looking like he thinks I’m going to hit him.
“Did you check the garden?” Giovanni asks, rising with me.
“No, sir,” the man replies.
“Well, check the garden!” I shout, storming out of the office before either of them can say another word.
I go straight to Marlena’s room, even though the guard said she wasn’t there. Shouting her name, I pass through each room, proving to myself that she’s gone. I find her cell phone lying on the table in her living room. Her purse is next to the door. Wherever she went, she left in a hurry.
I barge into Frankie’s room, thinking they might be talking. Maybe she’s still helping him study, and the guard overlooked the obvious. But she’s not there either. It registers that Frankie is also missing, and I’m not sure whether to be concerned or relieved. If they’re somewhere together, that will give her a little bit of protection. But in terms of muscle, Frankie’s the last person I would choose to bring along with me.
I scour all the rooms on the second floor before meeting Giovanni in the kitchen. “Frankie’s gone, too,” I say.
“Frankie’s missing?” Giovanni repeats.
“That’s what I just said,” I snap. I’m too worried to care about hurting my brother’s feelings.
He lets it go, knowing that there are more important considerations at the moment. “I checked the garden. She’s not out there. And she’s not on the tennis court.”
“Dammit!” I yell, picking up a cup of espresso and launching it at the wall.
“Hang on,” Giovanni says, drawing my attention to another China cup. “It looks like there were two people having coffee.”
I narrow my eyes at the delicate shards lying on the floor. There’s a big stain on the wall just beside the fridge, and coffee drips down toward the tile. So, Frankie and Marlena were having coffee in the kitchen. Then what? Where did they go, and why did they leave all their stuff behind?
“Excuse me, Mr. Corello?” A tiny voice chirps from the hallway.
I turn, ready to let whoever is speaking to me have it. I don’t have time for anything else. I’m laser-focused on finding my wife.
The speaker turns out to be a maid. She cowers in front of me, and I realize I must look terrible. I’m sure she has something important to say. The staff never bothers me unless it is an emergency.
I straighten my tie, inhaling deeply. I force myself to remain calm, knowing that if I frighten her any more, I might never hear her story. “What?” I demand.
“I saw Mrs. Corello and your son get into a car with Mr. Marcello,” the maid says, her voice quivering.
I look away, doing the calculations in my head. I didn’t like the way Marcello left my office. I struck him, and he was bleeding. Luca said he was cursing my name in the hallway. Could he have done something with Marlena? Would he dare?
Giovanni grabs me by the arm, pulling me aside. “What if Marcello is working for Andretti?”
“What?” I ask. I’m ready to bury my former consigliere, but I’m not willing to go so far as to accuse him of treason.
“Think about it,” Giovanni insists. “Who actually knew about Marlena? I mean, about her family history? Who was in the room when you explained who her father was?”
I try to think back, but my thoughts are unclear. I know I wouldn’t have spilled such a top-level secret in front of people I didn’t trust. I’m sure Giovanni knew, and I’m sure Frankie knew. Then it dawns on me that I told Marcello myself that Marlena was Vincent Rocca’s daughter. I glance back at Giovanni, and he nods in confirmation.
The floodgates are open, and I think back to every encounter with Marcello recently. He was the one who told me about the mole in my organization before I even discussed it with Giovanni. He suggested Andretti was trying to poach my men. Could it all have been to cover up the fact that he was working for Andretti?
My heart sinks. If Marcello is working for my sworn enemy, and the man I know has kidnapped Marlena’s brother, then what will he do with my wife? I know I have to get to her, but how? I think it’s time the gloves came off. I’ve been coloring within the lines all this time, careful not to break the law of the street. I can’t go after Andretti without proof, but now the situation has changed.
“I’m going after them,” I say.
