Chapter 32
Kane
The moment I step into my house, I know something is off. For one, the guards aren’t manning the door, and it’s quiet … too quiet. Brielle usually has music playing or the TV on, and when I walk inside, the cat usually prances to the door to greet me.
“Brielle,” I call out.
I pull my phone out and call Giani, not wanting to waste any time. If something happened to her, I’ll tear this fucking town apart until I find her. I promised her she’d be safe, and I’m not a liar.
“Sir.”
“Where the hell is my wife?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”
I run up the stairs and into our room, but it’s empty.
I check the bathroom, and my eyes land on the engagement ring, still in the soap dish, only next to it is also her wedding band.
She left me.
“Can you at least tell me that she’s safe?” I rasp, emotion clogging my throat.
“She is,” Giani tells me. “We’re with her.”
“Let me talk to her.”
I glance in the closet and find several empty hangers.
She packed a bag and left.
My heart thumps in my chest, the blood flowing through my veins. She’s gone, and I have no way to find her. While I was at the warehouse, interrogating the asshole who dug up my father’s body, she was making her escape.
The worst part is that it was a complete waste of time. The only thing that guy could tell us was that he had been paid to dig up the body and put it on the property. This bitch is a master at flying under the radar so she can play her fucking games.
“She doesn’t want to speak to you, sir,” Giani says after a moment.
“She’s my goddamn wife!” I boom. “Tell her I just need to speak to her for a moment.”
She can’t leave without knowing that I love her, that I’ve been pushing her away out of guilt for forcing her to marry me. She needs to know that I want to be married to her, but that I need for it to be her choice.
“Umm, sir, she said the divorce papers in your office said all that needed to be said.”
Fuck! She found them. But she doesn’t understand the context.
She thinks I no longer want to be married to her when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
“Giani …”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to hang up now.”
The call cuts off, and I lose my shit. I grab the closest thing to me—a lamp—and fling it across the room so it shatters against the wall.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go down.
I wanted to talk to her, explain where I was coming from, and show her that I wanted to be a better man for her.
I go to my office, and sure enough, the divorce papers, along with the pharmacy bag, are sitting on the fucking desk.
My phone rings, and I answer it without checking to see who it is, hoping it’s Brielle.
“Hey,” Dominick says. “I need you to come to my house.”
“Is Brielle there?” I choke out.
“No, but her studio was vandalized, so I had Eddy pull the cameras, and we know who did it.”
“What?” I bark. “What the fuck do you mean, her studio was vandalized?”
I’m already heading out to my car.
“She got a call tonight from her landlord. Her studio was broken into and destroyed. She asked me to file the insurance claim for her since she’s not in a place to do it herself.”
Fuck. That’s why she was in my office. She was looking for the insurance paperwork.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell him as I drive out of my garage and head toward his place.
When I arrive at Dominick’s house, Matteo’s there, glaring daggers at me.
“Don’t give me that fucking look,” I tell him. “I don’t want to divorce her.”
“So, you, what? Drew up divorce papers for shits and giggles?” Matteo accuses. “Just when I was starting to actually tolerate your ass.”
“I’m not talking to you about this.”
“Yes, you are.” Matteo gets in my face. “You didn’t hear my sister bawling her fucking eyes out because she’d fallen in love with you, only for you to divorce her less than two fucking months later.”
“I’m not divorcing her!”
“Keep your voices down,” Dominick says, strolling into the room. “I have three kids sleeping, and if you wake them up, you’ll be responsible for putting them back to bed.”
He hands me his phone, and I click play, watching as Theodore DeSantis walks into Brielle’s studio and proceeds to destroy it.
“He’s a fucking dead man.” I hand the phone back to Dominick. “Now, tell me where my wife is.”
Matteo snorts out a laugh. “Tell us why you forced her to marry you, only to draw up divorce papers a couple months later.”
“I’ll tell her once I find her.”
I need to have this conversation with Brielle. She’s the priority. And I’m not going to gossip about our relationship with her brothers like we’re a bunch of teenage girls.
“That’s not happening,” Dominick says.
“It’s a small town. She has to be here somewhere, and I won’t stop until I find her.”
I stalk toward the front door and open it.
“And Theo’s mine!” I yell back, closing it behind me.
She’s not in Harbor Point.
I’ve searched everywhere, turned over every goddamn stone. But she’s not here.
It’s been a week, and I haven’t been able to locate Theo or Brielle. If I didn’t know how much she couldn’t stand the man, I’d wonder if they were together. But there’s no way she’d leave town with the asshole who vandalized her studio.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Sasha. I was working with your wife on the studio. I appreciate you reaching out.”
This morning, I’m meeting with the Pilates studio expert Brielle was working with.
Rather than filing an insurance claim, which would’ve taken months, I hired a crew to go in and clean up the studio.
I refuse to believe Brielle is gone forever.
And once she comes back, she’ll want to open the studio, and it will be done the way she dreamed.
I spend the next thirty minutes going over everything Sasha says Brielle wanted while my assistant takes notes. And then I meet with the contractor to ensure he can make it all happen.
“I’d like it done as soon as possible.”
“We have one job ahead—”
“I’ll pay you double to make this project priority.”
The man’s eyes shine with dollar signs. “Will do.”
I shake his hand and walk him out. “I look forward to doing business with you.”
Four weeks.
It’s been four damn weeks since my wife disappeared, and I’m no closer to her or the asshole who fucked up her studio.
The contractor is on schedule, and the studio is due to be completed in the next week. But it doesn’t matter when my wife isn’t here to run it.
“We’ll let you know when the last phase is complete so you can come in and do a walk-through,” the contractor says.
“I appreciate it.”
I leave them to continue working and step onto the sidewalk to text my private investigator to see if he has any updates when I spot none other than Theodore DeSantis walking out of the restaurant across the street.
“Jack, I’ll meet you back at the office,” I tell my assistant, pocketing my phone.
Theo gets into his car, and I follow him into the parking garage near where he works. He drives up three floors and then parks.
Kane
I need Magnolia Parking Garage dark. I have a meeting with Theo.
Dominick
Done.
I swing into a parking spot and get out while he takes his sweet time doing whatever he’s doing in his car.
When he steps out, I don’t give him a chance to notice that I’m here before I grab him by the front of his dress shirt and shove him against the wall.
“You thought you were slick, turning the security cameras off so you could fuck up my wife’s studio?” I rear back and punch him in the face—once, twice. “I warned you not to touch what’s mine.”
I punch him in the face again and then the stomach. And even though hitting him won’t bring my wife back, it feels good to let out some aggression.
I hit him again and again. He tries to fight back, but adrenaline and anger are on my side, and eventually, he hits the ground, begging me to stop.
“Enough,” Dominick says, walking up next to me.
“Fuck that. I told you he was a dead man.”
I kick him in the stomach, and he groans.
“He disappears, and you’ll be suspect number one. While I don’t give a shit if you end up in prison, my sister will.”
I whip my head around to look at him. “She’s back?”
“No, but she will be once you get your shit together and find her.”
“I’ve looked everywhere. Unless you want to tell me where she’s hiding …”
“You know I can’t do that.” He shakes his head and then nods toward Theo, who’s out cold but still alive. “Drop this asshole off at a hospital,” he says to his men. “And warn him what will happen if he speaks.”
Dominick looks at me. “There’s only one place my sister would go where she feels safe. Figure it out, and you’ll find her.”
“Title for her Porsche, college degree, bank account, bank account …” I’ve been going through Brielle’s paperwork for over an hour, and one thing I’ve learned about my wife is that organization is not her strong suit.
As soon as I figure out where the hell she’s hiding, I’m going to tell Jack to set up an office for her so we can get her organized.
I flip through several more papers, proving that Brielle is financially worth more than me, when my eyes land on a deed to a house … in Russia.
“My entire world had exploded, and I couldn’t handle it, so I went to Russia to live with my grandparents and didn’t return until Dominick showed up and forced me to come home after they both passed away.”
I grab the paperwork and take a picture of the address. It’s the only lead I have, so it looks like I’m going to Russia.