A harsh breath leaves me. “You were just going to walk down the aisle, marry him and surprise him at the altar when he removed the veil?”
She doesn’t answer, but the look on her face says it all. Does she know how dangerous Massimo is? He would have put a bullet in her head the moment he found out she was the wrong bride.
“And your father?” I ask. “Massimo doesn’t know either?”
“No.”
“Who else knows?”
“Just me and my sisters. No one else.”
I watch her carefully. “So where is Sienna right now?”
“I told you that I don’t know.”
I step closer. “You had better not be lying to me, Eleonora.”
“I’m not. None of us know. That was the whole point. If Papa came after us, if anyone tortured us for answers, we couldn’t give them any. I have no idea where they are. They’re probably already out of the state by now.”
I hold her gaze for a long moment. Something in her eyes tells me she’s telling the truth. She really doesn’t know.
I drag a hand through my hair, cursing under my breath as the reality settles like lead in my gut. I exhale, trying to recalculate. This doesn’t ruin my plan. I’ll use her just the same. The leverage still holds.
She stares at me like she wants to rip my throat out with her teeth. “Congratulations, Lombardi. You kidnapped the wrong sister.”
I turn on my heel before I strangle her. The door slams behind me as I step into the hallway, the lock clicking into place.
Fury simmers under my skin, even if I’m doing my best to stay cool. I drag a hand down my face as I head down the wide staircase, jaw clenched so tight it aches. I need to think. Need to recalculate everything before this blows up in my face.
Marco is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his usual calm mask in place. My underboss. The only man who can really read me.
“How’d it go?” he asks. “We got the Caruso girl?”
I give him a single nod as I reach the last step.
He studies my face for half a second and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Not now,” I mutter, brushing past him. “Are the men ready?”
“Yeah. They’re all in the operations room waiting for you.”
I don’t slow down. Marco falls into step beside me, our shoes echoing against the marble as we move through the west wing. The operations room is my war room, large, soundproof, dominated by a long black table, multiple screens on the walls, and maps. Only my inner circle is allowed inside. These are the men who know the real moves, the ones who carry out the orders that can start or end wars.
As we approach the heavy double doors, I hear the low chatter of voices inside. The second I push them open, the room falls dead silent. Every man stands immediately, heads slightly bowed in respect.
“Boss,” a few of them murmur.
I walk straight to the head of the table and drop into the leather chair. I motion with two fingers for them all to sit. Marco takes the seat to my right, as always.
I scan the room, twelve of my most trusted captains and lieutenants. They know the anatomy of the syndicate. They know which politicians we own, which ports we control, and exactly how deep our blades go.
I can’t tell them the mission is fucked up.
I’m their Don. In their eyes, I’m supposed to be above mistakes. Especially this one. Kidnapping the Caruso bride was myoperation. I planned it. I led the team in the field. I’m not about to admit I dragged the wrong woman out of that garden.
I lean back in my chair, letting the silence stretch for a beat.
“As you’re all aware,” I say, voice calm and controlled, “we now have one of Massimo Caruso’s daughters in our possession. Andrea Gallo’s intended bride.”
