Page 34 of Banished and Pregnant by Her Sicilian Billionaire Husband

He had known since they were boys. Vico did not panic. Vico did not run. Vico was the one this family sent when something had to be made to disappear, and a man like that did not sit in a locked room waiting for the police.

A man like that found himself a way out.

And there was only one way out of this property tonight that Marcello could not close.

No no no no no.

The hedges went past him. The gravel turned to grass, then to the flagstones of the lower garden, and his own breathing was enormous in his ears. The guesthouse came up white out of the dark at the bottom of the lawn, with every window lit.

Let her have locked the door. Let her be upstairs. Let her be in the bath, asleep, anywhere—

The front door was standing open.

The hall light was burning. There was a black bag on the path with a folded cardigan spilling out of the top of it, exactly where somebody had dropped it, and a woman’s shoe lying on its side three feet further on.

Dio mio, per favore.

Please don’t let anything happen to her.

Please.

Please.

Marcello felt sick to his stomach with every second that passed, and there was still no sign of his wife. The sitting room was empty. A lamp was on. There was a cup of tea still steaming on the little table by the chair, with a book face down beside it, and the sight of that cup nearly took his legs out from under him.

Because it meant minutes. Not hours. Minutes.

Then a chair leg scraped on tile.

And he finally found her in the kitchen, gagged and tied to a chair, with Vico pointing a gun to her head.

No no no no.

“Chisa?” His voice was raw. “Are you okay?”

She nodded even as her eyes brightened with tears.

“This,” his cousin said with a sigh, “did not go as planned. I was about to make my escape when I realized Curzio’s called ahead to talk to security. So I knew I needed leverage before I can leave.” He then looked at Marcello, asking hopefully, “Do you think there’s any chance we can just pretend this didn’t happen and move on?”

“I’ll kill you for this,” Marcello snarled.

Vico sighed again. “I thought you’d say that.” And that was when his finger went to the trigger—

Marcello whitened. “Stop!”

“What if I don’t want to?” Vico taunted.

“Just tell me what you want,” Marcello bit out, “and I’ll give it to you.”

“Two million in crypto.”

“Done.”

“Ah, if only I can believe you that easily.”

“You have my wife,” he said tightly. “I’m not even going to negotiate so just tell me, dammit. Do you want double? I’ll give it to you.”

And it was while he was saying these things that he saw it.