I shouldn’t do this. The last thing I want is to do business with a man I despise more than anything in this world. But ifI say no, someone else will take it—and they won’t stop at surveillance.
At least this way, I can stay one step ahead. I just need to buy some time while I figure out what to do with him.
Even if it means lying to her. Again.
I pull out a card with my email address printed on. “Send me what you have. I’ll email you back with a price. I take half the payment upfront to cover expenses and the rest on delivery of the information.”
He takes the business card from me. “Fine. I’ll have everything sent to you tomorrow.”
I nod and walk away, the weight of what I’ve just done settling in my gut like lead.
Fuck’s sake.
8
DAN
I’d booked myself on Rose’s next flight home, which is today, but she needs to stay away from the hospital in case Magnus has people watching. The only way I know to get a message to her is through her mother.
In the back of the taxi, my phone pings with a new email. I sip my morning coffee while I open the message from Magnus. My lips curl into a snarl as I scroll through the photographs he’s sent. Just knowing he has access to my flower’s pictures twists my insides. I want to carve out his eyeballs for even looking at her.
All the torment I felt when she married is back at the forefront of my mind, torturing me with images of them together like flashes on a movie reel, moving way too quick and sending my head into a spin.
Scrolling to the next image, my breath halts. Her smile is enough to stop any man in their tracks, but it’s the way her face is lit up as she plays with a small boy, not much older than four or five. Her son’s grin matches hers. The same wide, open expression I haven’t seen in over a decade. A flicker of pain stabs through my ribs. A bunch of what-ifs settle in my gut along with the realisation that they will never be.
Staring at that moment between her and her son softens something brutal inside me. I imagine a life with her and wonder if I could ever love a kid who’s not mine. He’s gotta be a teenager now. Probably a little shit if me and my brother at that age are anything to go by. I silently chuckle to myself, thinking of how Dom and I would always be in detention, for one thing or another.
The kid’s eyes are familiar, like looking at my little brother, and I realise it doesn’t matter who his father is, him and Rose are a package deal and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they’re both safe and away from this motherfucker. There’s a reason she’s hiding her true identity and I’m gonna do my best to keep it that way.
As I push open the door to the hospital room, my shoulders relax at seeing her mother in the bed with an oxygen mask over her face.
Her hand pats the bed as if feeling for something.
“It’s me, Lucia. It’s D’Angelo. I’m not here to finish you off.” I give her my warmest smile, hoping to reassure her. “Yet.”
She pulls the mask down under her chin. “Two visits in one week. I’m honoured.” Her head tilts as if trying to look behind me. “Is Rose with you?”
I scan my surroundings and check for bugs. “Not today. Do you have a number I can contact her on?”
“No.” Her lip twitches, telling me she’s lying. And I’m not confident that the room isn’t bugged. It’s the first thing I’d do if I was looking for a relative.
I pull out my phone and type in my notes.
Rose’s husband is in Rome and he’s looking for her. I need you to tell her to stay away.
Lucia squints her eyes and pats the bed again.
I reach over and lift her glasses from the trollynext to her. “Here, put these on.” Enlarging the text on my phone, I hold it in front of her face and place my other finger in front of my lips, signalling for her to be quiet.
Her hand trembles as she slides her glasses behind her ears and her eyes widen as she reads the message on my phone. “La mia bella rosa.”
The heart rate monitor picks up speed. Lucia lifts her mask over her face, gasping for air. The machine beeps and a nurse rushes in.
“Bianchi?” A man shouts behind me.
I turn, but Elio fists my collar, pushing me back against the wall.
He snarls, muttering something in Italian.
