“She’s a married woman. Her husband wants her back.”
“Her husband is never going to see her again.”
The silence stretches.
“Lazaro left for Spain a few days after she disappeared,” Garzolo says finally. “We tracked her to Spain. He’s been searching ever since. When you told me your name earlier on the call, I messaged him to tell him Valentina is in Ibiza. He’s on his way.”
Valentina lets out a gasp.
“Call him off,” I grind out.
Her father sighs. “That’s not going to be possible. In our clan, not even the don can interfere within a marriage.”
I squeeze the phone harder with my hand. “Good. I’ve been wanting to have a few words with him.”
“The business with your sister was ill conceived,” Garzolo says. “I understand if you want to get your revenge.”
As if I need his permission to kill Lazaro. He makes no mention of what that scumbag did to Valentina. He hasn’t even asked how she is the entire time we’ve been speaking.
“You’re fine with him dead?” Valentina suddenly asks. “I thought he was your loyal soldier.”
“He was.”
“You gave me to him.”
“As a reward for his prior good work, not his recent failure.”
She scoffs and gives a shake of her head. “He’s no longer useful to you.”
“No.”
A tear travels down her cheek, and I wish I were able to reach into the phone and shake some fucking sense into the man. He still hasn’t attempted an apology.
Sadly, I doubt he ever will.
“Goodbye, Father.” Valentina hangs up the phone. “Lazaro’s coming here,” she says.
I meet her worried gaze. “He won’t leave alive, Vale.”
That’s a promise I intend to keep.
VALENTINA
For the second time in my life, I’ve been traded away for my father’s gain. I never harbored any fantasies about him regretting how he treated me once he realized I ran away, but experiencing his ice-cold ruthlessness still feels like a kick in my gut.
He’s right about one thing. He’s not Papà anymore. Even that simple term carries a connotation of affection I no longer feel.
I am an object to him.
I have to trust I’m more than that for Damiano, but trusting anyone is difficult for me these days. I wish he’d pushed harder to get more information about Gemma. What are they going to do to her? Her betrayal will be punished. How harshly? I don’t know. All I do know is I’m to blame for putting her in that position.
Since we hung up on my father, Damiano and I’ve been on our feet. He’s figuring out the logistics of getting my father’s drugs to Ibiza. I roam the halls and try to identify where Lazaro might break in from, even though Damiano has reassured me ten times over he’ll never be able to get in.
When he sees me hovering by the living room window, he comes over and stops behind me. “The police have his photo,” he says as he brushes my hair off my neck. “They’ve been instructed to bring him to me as soon as they see him anywhere on the island.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “You’re working with the police?”
“I’ve had the chief in my pocket for years. My point is he won’t find you, Vale. He’ll be dead before he lays eyes on you.”
I want to believe him, but something holds me back. It’s funny how things can change so quickly. Last night, when I was in his arms, safe and warm, I would have believed anything he said. If he asked me to stay with him then, I would have said yes. Now, my world feels like a glass plate spinning on a thin wooden pole. I don’t know what to do with myself. Thinking about the future fills me with dread.
“Where’s Martina?” I ask.
He glances in the direction of her room. “She’s still asleep. When she wakes, don’t tell her about Lazaro, all right? I’m afraid she won’t take it well if she knows he might already be on the island. He killed her friend, and-”
“I understand.” He doesn’t need to explain it to me. I know exactly what Martina is feeling. “I’ll keep her company.”
Damiano’s eyes soften. “I appreciate it. I’ve got a few things to review, will you be all right?”
“Go, I’m fine.”
He curls his fist into my shirt at the small of my back, presses me into him, and brings our lips together. I give him what I have, but God, it feels all wrong. The closer Lazaro gets, the more I think about the past and the awful things I did.
The day drags on even once Martina wakes and we get busy in the kitchen. She teaches me how to make her favorite cake, and we spend hours baking all the layers and making the flavored creams. At one point, I have to pause and duck into the bathroom to collect myself. It’s so absurd to be baking while a killer is probably on his way over. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Then I return to the kitchen and pour myself a large glass of wine.
When the evening comes and the skies begin to dim, we sit down for dinner. We’re halfway through our grilled tuna steak when the doorbell rings.
I jolt out of my seat. Is it Lazaro? No, that’s impossible. He wouldn’t ring the doorbell.
Damiano settles me with a calm look. “I’ll be right back,” he says, lifting his napkin off his lap and putting it by his plate.
“Are you okay?” Martina asks, her face lined with concern.
I realize I’m still standing, so I sit back down. “Yeah, fine. Just a little jumpy.”
My racing heartbeat slows only when Damiano reenters the room with Ras by his side.
“You’re back,” I say, noting Ras’s tired eyes.
They lose their tiredness as soon as they land on me. He comes closer, shaking his head, as if I’ve sorely disappointed him. “Look.” He sticks out his hand.
There’s a very clear bite mark on his index finger. My eyes widen. “That’s from Gemma?”
He drags a chair out and sinks into it. His eyes flash with a dark curiosity I hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve got a few long gashes on my back as well. I swear, she must spend her free time sharpening her nails into knives.”
I arch a brow. “What did you expect? You ambushed her in the women’s change room. I’d be more concerned if she didn’t put up a fight.”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve never had a woman I haven’t slept with rough me up like that.”