Tommy
I’m not far from the Edge when I call her. The city is a blur of taillights, and I’m weaving in and out of traffic, hoping she’ll pick up.
When she doesn’t answer, I call again.
And again.
The fourth time, it goes straight to voicemail. My pulse spikes, my breath quick and shallow as my brain starts cycling through every God damn scenario that could explain it.
Is she still angry about Una? Does she know Una was sending jewelry in my name to women all over Manhattan? If she does, she has every right to be angry.
Sending even one woman a piece of jewelry in my name would be a firing offense, but hundreds? And if Una was fucking Antonio at any point while working for me, whether or not he was with Giovanna at the time, it was a fucking betrayal, pure and simple. She can’t be trusted.
At the next stoplight, I text Una:
You’re fired. Drop all your
keys and files at the
office. Now.
My phone pings before I even make the next turn. Una’s messages start flooding in, one after another, but I don’t bother reading them. Giovanna doesn’t trust her, and now neither do I. There’s nothing more to say.
I’m about to call the guards at the safe house when my phone rings through the car speakers. I groan, assuming it’s Una, but Matti’s name flashes across the dash. I answer.
“Matti.”
“Giovanna’s at my place,” he says, his voice gruff, irritated.
My grip tightens on the wheel. “What? Dragovari Tower? Why?”
He exhales like he’s bracing himself. “Giovanna and Siena, they wanted it. Girl time, or something.”
My jaw locks. “You fucking moved her without talking to me? I expressly fucking told her to stay at the safe house. She should not be—”
“I know,” he interrupts. “It wasn’t my call. Siena insisted that’s what Gi wanted, so I drove them both here. I figured it was safer than her running off on her own.”
“Safer?” My voice comes out like gravel. “What the fuck is at the penthouse that’s so important she had to go there?”
He hesitates. I can hear him shifting, and his voice is muffled. “I don’t think they want me to tell you this, but—”
Siena’s voice bursts through the line. “Matti! Stop making it sound like you’re covering up a crime.”
I tense. “Siena?”
“Tommy, listen: give her space. Let her breathe. She’s fine. She’s with me. We just want some girl time—”
“If she’s fine,” I say tightly, “why isn’t she answering her phone?”
I hear a chair scraping in the background and soft scuffling as Matti tries to get the phone back. “Siena—”
“Matti, it’s fine,” Siena snaps. “Tommy, she probably didn’t hear it. Or she’s busy. Please don’t make a big deal out of this. She doesn’t need any more stress right now.”
My lungs contract, and I can’t get a deep breath. “Anymorestress?”
Siena doesn’t answer as she argues, soft and low, with Matti. A moment later, he’s back on the line. “I’ll be here with them. I’m not leaving. Everything’s alright.”
Except it’s not.
