I’m surprised that he kisses me deeply and then pulls back and whispers, “You will have the fairytale, Rose, I promise you that.”
As he carries me over the threshold, my heart beats with excitement. We are home, and for the first time in my life, I truly believe I am.
33
JULIUS
Eddie is pissed. I’ve known him long enough to recognize the signs, even though he smiles as I head in through the door to my office.
“You took your time.”
He laughs at his own joke, and I shrug, taking my usual seat behind the polished desk.
“It’s done.”
I point to the decanter of bourbon.
“We should raise a toast to my new wife.”
“About that–” He shakes his head with annoyance as he splashes the whiskey into two glasses and hands one to me.
“I wanted to be your best man.”
He raises his glass and smiles. “To a mission accomplished.”
For some reason, his words anger me because it is no longer a mission. However, he doesn’t need to know that, and so I shrug. “If you say so.”
“Seriously though, what were you thinking? Giorgio and Connor lost their shit when you didn’t show up for the ride to the airport.”
“It was necessary. You see–” I lean forward and stare him directly in the eye. “We were ambushed in Spain, and the only people who knew we were there were you, me, Giorgio and Connor. How did they find us?”
“Are you accusing me?” A flicker of pain lights in Eddie’s eyes, which reassures me.
“You tell me.”
“Fuck, Julius, what do you take me for? If we have a leak in the organization, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Then who?”
He swirls the whiskey in his glass thoughtfully.
“Connor told me they tailed you the entire time and noticed the car pull out from the curb when you came out of the restaurant. It happened quickly, but they managed to get the license plate, and we ran a check on it, and it was a hire car. They checked out the company, and the man who hired it was a man named Bill Roberts and paid cash. Almost definitely a fake name, so we have no leads.”
“I hate this.” I glare at him. “At least with Samson we understand the scum we are dealing with. It’s familiar and easily dealt with. Not this. Anything else?”
He nods. “We have no word on the other two women; your brothers are on information lockdown.”
“As expected.” I remind him, and he nods.
“However, there is one loose end we can follow.”
I lean forward, and he sets the glass down.
“Morgan Sorcusi.”
“What about her?”
He has my attention.
