Antonio
I’ve been staring at the reports on my desk for so long that the words blur together. Dante’s hacker hasn’t turned up anything yet—no records, no traces. Alessia’s a ghost and with each day that passes, it feels like a noose tightening around my neck.
I put a few of my closest men on the search. They’re working quietly, combing through every scrap of information that might give me a lead. I have to keep it all locked down. If Draco catches wind of this, it’ll get ugly fast.
While I’m focused on finding Alessia, I’ve put Enzo in charge of keeping the restaurant and our money-laundering operation afloat. I’m counting on him to keep business running smoothly and cover my tracks, so no one suspects how deep I’m buried in this mess.
It’s all I can do to keep up appearances—make it look like business as usual while my mind races, wondering where the hell Alessia’s hiding.
The worst part? Dealing with Draco. He’s been calling nonstop, demanding to know why Alessia isn’t answering her phone. I keep feeding him the same line—she’s mourning Valentino. She needs time and asks not to be disturbed. He’s calling bullshit on it. Draco knows as well as I do that she hated Valentino. But so far, I’ve been able to keep him away.
Until today.
“.” Draco’s voice crackles through the phone. “I’ve been patient, but my daughter has ignored me for long enough.”
“She’s grieving, Draco.” I force calm into my tone, even though my pulse pounds in my ears. “Valentino’s death hit her harder than expected. She needs more time.”
“I’ve given her enough time,” he snaps. “I’m done with excuses. Perhaps I should stop by your mother’s house to see her for myself.”
The idea of Draco anywhere near my mother or Cecilia makes my blood run cold. “There’s no need for that, Draco,” I say, trying to mask my desperation. “I’ll talk to her and make sure she gets in touch.”
“You have one week, ,” he growls. “After that, I’ll deal with this personally.”
The line goes dead, and I’m left staring at the phone. One week. That’s all I’ve got before Draco blows this whole thing wide open.
I slam my fist onto the desk, frustration boiling over. “Damn it,” I yell, shoving the papers aside. “Where the hell are you, Alessia?”
I can’t afford to lose control. Not now. I need a plan. But every second that ticks by is a reminder I’m running out of time.
Dante’s hacker is still digging through bus ticket records, but we’ve got nothing so far. If she had a fake ID, she could be anywhere. Hell, she could be on the other side of the world, and I wouldn’t know it.
This is taking too long. I can’t sit around waiting. I have to do something.
My mind races, desperate for any lead I haven’t thought of yet. Then it hits me—the gallery. How did I not consider it before? Alessia’s photography was always her escape, her way of expressing what she couldn’t say aloud. If she left any trace behind, it might be there.
It's a long shot, but if there's even the slightest possibility it can lead me to her, I have to check it out.
* * *
The moment I step inside, the gallery feels like a different world—quiet, serene, completely removed from the chaos that surrounds me. I take a deep breath, letting the calm wash over me. Wandering around the small space, I glance at the pieces for sale.
“Good afternoon,” the owner greets me as she steps out from the back room, her smile polite and practiced. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“You as well,” I reply.
“Are you interested in anything specific today?” she asks.
I glance around, keeping it casual. "Thought maybe there’d be some fresh work on display."
Her eyes brighten. "Actually, there is," she says, nodding toward a section I haven’t seen yet.
Crossing the gallery, my gaze locks onto a set of photographs, each one bearing the signature Allie in the corner.
“These are incredible,” I murmur.
“The photographer has a remarkable gift for capturing simple moments.”
I scan the photos closely, hoping for some clue as to her whereabouts, but come up empty. “These aren’t her usual shots of Philadelphia,” I comment, frowning.
“No, they’re not. These were taken in Magnolia Springs, Alabama,” she replies.
“Magnolia Springs,” I repeat. This is the break I’ve been waiting for. “It looks like a beautiful place.”
“It does,” she agrees with a nod. “Quiet, peaceful—a perfect escape from the city.”
I nod, my pulse quickening. “I’d like to purchase this one,” I say, pointing to a photograph of a couple sitting on a park bench. The woman’s head rests on the man’s shoulder. He gazes at her with a look of pure adoration. Something about the image strikes a chord deep inside me.
“Of course,” she replies, smiling as she wraps up my purchase.
As I walk out of the gallery, the tension in my shoulders begins to ease for the first time in weeks. I have a lead—finally. Magnolia Springs. That’s where she’s been hiding.
Pulling out my phone, I dial Dante. He picks up almost immediately.
“I’ve got a location,” I say without preamble. “Magnolia Springs, Alabama.”
There’s a brief pause before Dante speaks. “How sure are you?”
“Certain enough to bet my life on it,” I reply, gripping the phone tighter.
“Magnolia Springs. Never heard of it,” he says thoughtfully. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible. I’m not giving her another chance to disappear,” I say, the determination in my voice leaving no room for argument.
“Are we flying?”
“No. We’ll drive. I want to keep things low-key—nothing that will draw any unnecessary attention,” I say, grateful to have him by my side.
“How long do you need?”
“Meet me at my apartment in an hour.”
It doesn’t matter how far Alessia’s run. I’ll find her and bring her back. Our lives are entwined, whether she likes it or not. That makes her mine.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine.