We both know Remington’s high-end Gentleman’s Clubs are a front for sex trafficking, which Lorenzo has expressed an interest in. Mostly so he can have his pick of the whores shipped in from the Baltic States and Africa.
Francesca is the whore he parades in public, but I doubt even she can stomach the fucked-up shit he likes behind closed doors.
“Fuck, if he’s done a deal with Remington, I wonder what else he’s been up to while I’ve been distracted? Was Remington behind Chiara’s kidnapping?”
I don’t reply because I honestly have no clue, but if he was behind our girl’s ordeal, he’ll pay with his life.
36
Chiara
Iwake from a fucked-up dream about monstrous devil dogs just as we enter the house. My head throbs, and now that the adrenaline has faded, I regret drinking so much wine and champagne.
Things are hazy, but the memory of Lorenzo hitting me across the face is front and center. Two strong arms cradle me as we head upstairs.
From the scent of bergamot, it’s Angelo. I should tell him to put me down, but I’m tired, still drunk, and dammit, he rescued me from his psychopath of a father.
“Your father is a psycho,” I slur, still half asleep.
“I know,” he agrees. Felix meows from his perch on a small table. I coo some nonsense as we pass him and he hops down to follow us. Coco is probably already in my bed.
Will Luka be there? I hope so. After tonight’s shenanigans, I need a cuddle.
Fuck, my cheek hurts.
“We need to save Fina,” I remind Angelo. Something nags at my brain about Fina, something Angelo isn’t aware of and I’m not allowed to tell him.
“Santini’s dead.”
Angelo’s words sink in, and I gasp. “What? How?!”
“I killed him.”
“I married a murderer,” I think. Only I say it out loud because I’m drunk and stupid.
Angelo stops outside my bedroom. “Is that a problem?”
Is it a problem that he killed the monster who would have made my friend’s life a misery?Hell, no.
“What about your father?” There’s a hopeful note in my question, which makes Angelo snort.
“Sorry, princess, he’s still breathing.”
“Damn. Can you kill your father next? Nobody likes him either.”
A soft laugh rumbles through me. “I’d love to, but that will take some planning.”
I sigh happily. Drunk-me is a bloodthirsty, vengeful bitch, apparently.
My bedroom door swings open to reveal Luka sprawled, face down, across my bed, deeply asleep judging by the snores. As predicted, Coco is also on the bed, her small body curled into Luka’s side. There’s no room for me, even though the bed is king-size.
Angelo curses.
“Fucking asshole,” he mutters, but instead of dropping me on the bed and waking Luka, he backs out and pushes the door to, leaving just enough room for Felix to slink in.
“Where are we going now?” I mumble as my eyes flutter shut.
“My room.”
