Rosalie gets in before Alessio, who is meeting us there.
The hotel is Fiorelli owned, but it’s quite out of the way of everything else.
The private suite has multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small living room with a desk as well.
I check every single room, and every single window. There are no microphones or cameras planted anywhere that I can tell. The windows are locked. The balcony is facing the ocean and not another building. The closets are empty. The bathrooms clean and nothing looks out of the ordinary.
It’s 10:52 p.m., and everything seems safe.
“I need some coffee,” Rosalie says with a bit of regret in her voice. She puts a hand on her head and shuffles off to the kitchen, still in her reception dress.
While she’s preparing coffee, I lean against the wall that faces the door into the suite.
It seems like forever before it finally clicks open with the keycard and Alessio steps in with his rolling suitcase in hand.
He’s still wearing his tux, but there’s blood splattered on the cuffs.
“Are you alright?” I ask him in a low tone.
He nods. “I am,” he replies. “Is Rosalie awake?”
I nod as well. “She’s in the kitchen making coffee.”
Alessio leaves his bag in the living room and heads to the side to the small kitchen where coffee is brewing and something is cooking on the stove as well. Eggs it looks like.
“I needed something else to eat,” she explains casually, but then seems to realize it’s not just me walking into the room. Alessio is in front of me.
“Oh, Alessio,” she says slowly. “What happened?”
He sighs. “It’s not good,” he admits.
Rosalie sets the wooden spatula she’s holding down and crosses her arms.
“What’s going on? What did you find out?” she asks. “By the way, sneaking out of the wedding and not even inviting me was a shit move.”
I give Alessio a pointed glance, which he seems to distinctly ignore.
“It was better that it was just me there,” Alessio insists. “Anyway… It turns out the driver was hired by the Tulos. A crime syndicate who has had their eyes on us for a while. They’ve never made a move until recently.”
“You sound uncertain about it,” Rosalie comments.
I look between them. I can feel the tension in the room. I’m not sure how much of it is coming from me. My hands are practically balled into fists.
“The driver said that the gun was only hired to kill you,” Alessio admits.
I freeze. Rosalie freezes as well, not blinking.
There’s a cold stillness in the room. The only sound is the sizzling of eggs and the spurting of the brewing coffee at its end.
“Just me?” Rosalie asks.
“Just you,” Alessio confirms. “If we’re to believe the guy anyway. He could have been lying, but given what he was going through at the time, I doubt it.” Alessio smirks ever so slightly, but then his face falls again. “It appears the Tulos have something against the Fiorellis specifically.”
“That would make sense,” Rosalie mumbles. “They did bomb our porch.”
Alessio shakes his head. “I’m not sure if they actually did that. We have no way of knowing, but if they did, it probably won’t be long before they do it again.”
“They could be watching now,” Rosalie says uncomfortably. “What I don’t understand is why they would have a grudge against us. We haven’t done anything even remotely related to them.”
