Page 22 of Tailored for You

I let the weight of my words settle over him as color slowly leeched from his face. If one shipment went missing—the ones with illegal trades we’d bypassed customs to bring in, from olive oil to marble—it would be a shit storm.

“Understood,” Drew said, standing taller.

“I hope so. The construction team will be in tomorrow to get the marble moved out,” I said. “Make sure they have room.”

Walking away, I nodded to the men who jerked their chins at me. When Marcello, Rafael, and I first came to the States, we divided up the operations, each taking an area to learn and oversee. Marcello took on top-level oversight. Rafael took over the finances. I chose the warehouses, connecting with the men there and developing trust.

I listened and learned about how the businesses were being run into the ground, how fractured everything was, and how unhappy most of the men were.

Working alongside them earned me respect faster than anyone else and strengthened bonds. They came to me with information, rumors, and problems. Without that trust, I don’t know if we would have taken over as easily and successfully as we had.

Donovan waited for me in the driver's seat, engine running.

“The usual route?” he asked as he put the car in drive.

“Yes.” I pulled out my phone, hoping to find a message from Serena, though I had no idea why she’d text me this late at night.

Harper was asleep, but there was a chance Serena was up working. Did they have a good night? Did Harper have a hard time falling asleep? Did she need to be read a bunch of stories? I hated that I didn’t know the answers to those questions.

At least my men had fixed the lock on her door.

I flipped the light on and grabbed the folder that had magically appeared on the seat during the day.

The dossier on Charles Clearwart III proved he was an asshat and a piss-poor excuse for a father. I didn’t need paperwork to know he was a screw-up, but I wanted to know how deep it ran. Outside of the issues with Serena, what was he involved in that I needed to know and plan for?

A glance at his financials told me that he spent money indiscriminately. Most of it came from a trust fund, but there were other deposits and several large cash withdrawals. He was a member of the Commonwealth Club—an old, prestigious, invite-only club.

How unoriginal.

I tossed the file to the side. It was late, and I didn’t have the capacity to read while I was in the car.

Donovan tapped the wheel to the beat of the music as he drove. I smothered a smile at the mental image of him being so flustered that he bowed to her.

We were three avenues away when I got a text alert from the security system.

A video followed. Three masked men were breaking the handle of the front door of Serena’s building.

“Donovan. Drive faster,” I ordered as I pulled up the security cameras I had installed outside Serena’s door. It was open, but I had no visibility into her apartment.

The car jerked, hitting a curb as Donovan made a left, flying down the street.

The men went to the door across from Serena’s. Before I could feel any relief that she might be safe, a man shook his head and pointed to Serena’s door.

I reached below my seat, grabbing the gun I hid there, as Donovan broke every speed limit getting us to Serena.

Seconds ticked by; each one lasting an hour until Donovan slammed on the brakes, taking the car up the curb and stopping directly in front of the door.

“Grab your gun,” I said and got out. Angelo was waiting at the front door.

Both followed me inside.

“Leave one alive. I want answers,” I said, taking the stairs two at a time.

CHAPTER 8

Serena

The microwave went off. I pulled out the popcorn, emptied it into a bowl to cool, and added a small bowl of Reese’s Pieces. Loading everything onto a tray with the mac and cheese, I carried it the short distance to the living room.