Chapter 25
SOFIA
Idon’t say a word the entire ride back to the penthouse. Chiara sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, but not close enough to crowd me. She’s trying to be comforting, but I’m not in the mood. I’m too angry to feel anything else.
I’m mad at Dominic for doing this without my knowledge. I’m mad that Tomasso was the one to call me, instead of Dominic or even Rafe. I’m mad at my father for being such a stubborn asshole. None of this would have happened if he’d taken any of my calls.
Underneath all that anger, though, I’m terrified. I stare out the window and see nothing but the street outside the safe house. The covered shapes. The blood. The cigarette on the ground. Dominic’s face when I stepped away from him. A wall has gone up between us that may never come down.
When we get back to the building, the lobby is full of guards. There are men near the doors, men by the elevator, one by the hallway that leads to the service entrance. Chiara leads me into the elevator. Neither of us says anything until the doors close.
“I’m so sorry,” she says softly.
I keep my eyes on the numbers lighting up above the doors.
“I didn’t know, Sofia, I swear.”
I nod.
“Sofia.”
I look at her. She looks genuinely miserable. Her makeup is still perfect, but her eyes are red and her mouth keeps trembling like she’s forcing herself not to cry.
“I wouldn’t have helped him keep something like that from you,” she says.
“I want to believe that.”
“But you don’t?”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
The elevator doors open, saving both of us from whatever comes next.
The penthouse feels different when we step inside.
Bigger. Colder. Too quiet for a place full of people.
Maybe because I know every person here answers to Dominic first. Maybe because, for the first time since I moved in, I understand that even Chiara could be used as part of one of his plans without realizing it.
This whole place is a machine, and I’m living inside it. Chiara follows me into the living room and hovers near the couch.
“Do you want tea?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
“Food?”
I look at her.
She grimaces.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just trying to help.”
I sink onto the couch. My hands go to my stomach automatically, and I hate that I can’t even control that. Every fear I have now drags a second one behind it. What if something happens to Dad? What if something happens to the baby? What if Dominic can’t protect either one of them?
Chiara sits on the opposite end of the couch. “He’s going to find him.”
I close my eyes. “Please don’t.”
“I’m not saying that because he’s my brother.”
“Then why are you saying it?”
“Because when Dominic wants something badly enough, the whole city usually bends around it.”
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh. Then my phone lights up in my hand, and my heart nearly stops. It’s Dominic. I don’t answer. Chiara sees the screen and wisely says nothing.
A minute later, a text comes through.
I’m going to get him back.
I stare at the words until they blur.
He means it. I know he means it. Dominic doesn’t make promises just because they sound good. But he promised before. He promised everything would be okay, and now my father is gone.
I type three different responses and delete all of them. Then I set the phone face-down on the couch.
“I want to go to bed,” I say.
“Okay.”
She sounds relieved. I go upstairs alone. I make it into my room, shut the door, and lock it behind me. Then I just stand there.
My father is missing. I can’t help but think about what he said to Maya when she called him.
“As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead to me.”
I press both hands over my mouth. An ugly sob rips through me so violently, it leaves me breathless. I slide down to the floor when my knees finally give up, and I cry so hard my chest hurts. I cry for Dad. I cry for Mom. I cry for the baby who is going to inherit this disaster of a life.
At some point, I make it to the bathroom and throw up. After that, I sit on the cool tile with my back against the tub and my phone in my lap. I try calling Dad. I know it’ll go to voicemail, but I need to hear his voice.
The beep sounds, and suddenly I can’t just sit here in silence.
“Papa,” I whisper.
My voice breaks immediately.
“Please come home. I don’t care what you said. I don’t care if you’re mad at me. You can be mad forever if you want. You can lecture me every day for the rest of my life. Just come home safely, okay?”
The voicemail cuts me off. I stare at the screen. Then my phone buzzes in my hand. For half a second, hope hits so hard I feel dizzy.
I see it’s a blocked number and I open the message.
You want your father back?
My whole body goes still.
Another message appears.
Come alone. No Vieri men. No Dominic. I can get you to him.
I stop breathing.
A third message comes through with an address in Brooklyn.
Then another.
One hour. After that, he moves again.
I read the messages three times.
Obviously, it’s a trap. I may be spiraling, but I haven’t lost all brain function. Whoever this is isn’t just being a helpful stranger. But I know where my father is now. I can get to him. I can put my eyes on him and know he’s alive.
I stand too quickly and have to grab the sink. This is a terrible idea. Worse than Dominic’s half-baked plan to stash my dad in a safe house, even. I’m too smart to walk into such an obvious trap.
And yet…
I go back into the bedroom and pace, phone clutched in one hand. Dominic would never let me go. He would take the phone, give me that hard look, and tell me I’m staying inside. He would say the safest thing I can do is nothing. I am so tired of doing nothing.
I change into black leggings and a black sweatshirt, hoping it’s inconspicuous without being suspicious. I put on sneakers, grab my purse, and shove my phone inside. My hands are shaking so badly it takes me two tries to zip the bag.
I look at myself in the mirror. I look awful. Pale. Puffy-eyed. Hair a mess. It’s exactly the chaotic, desperate look of a woman who’s willing to put her own life in danger for someone she loves.
I put one hand over my stomach. “I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper.
The main elevator is definitely not an option. There are guards there, and even if they didn’t physically stop me, one look at my face would send someone running to Dominic. I need another way out.
The service elevator is my only option. There’s a staff corridor behind the pantry on the second floor that leads to it, and the elevator goes all the way down to the back entrance. There’s also a code. One I don’t have.
I do have a decent memory and a dangerous level of stubbornness, though. I leave my room quietly. The hallway is empty, but I feel watched anyway. Maybe there are cameras. Maybe there aren’t. Maybe I’ll get caught before I even make it to the stairs.
I don’t.
The second floor is dark except for the pool lights glowing faintly through the glass doors. For one stupid second, I think about Chiara finding me there the night I couldn’t sleep. How she told me Dominic was in love with me. How I wanted to believe her.
I push the thought away.
In the pantry, I find the staff door and slip through it. The hallway behind it is narrow and plain compared to the rest of the penthouse, which is almost comforting. Just white walls, gray floor, and a keypad beside the service elevator.
I stare at the numbers. Chiara had tapped them in while talking about imported tile. It was four digits. I try the first combination I remember. Red light. My heart jumps into my throat.
“Shit,” I whisper.
I try again.
Red light.
My hands are sweating now. If the keypad locks after too many wrong tries, I’m done. Worse, an alarm might go off, and then Dominic will find out.
I close my eyes and picture Chiara’s hand. She was holding a smoothie. She had to use her pinky for the last number because her hands were full. I try again.
Green.
The elevator opens.
I almost cry from relief. The ride down takes forever. Every second feels like a chance for someone to stop me. I expect the elevator to freeze. I expect Dominic’s voice over a speaker. I expect Rafe to be standing on the service level with that look on his face, like I’ve disappointed him.
The doors open. No one is there. That gives me pause. Someone should be here, guarding the hallway. This is all a little too easy. The service entrance shouldn’t be empty.
I stand there, listening. Nothing.
I should turn around. I know I should turn around. Instead, I push through the back door and step into the alley.
Cold air hits my face hard enough to make me gasp. The alley smells like rain, trash, and the kind of bad decision you can’t take back. A security light buzzes overhead. At the far end, a dark car waits near the curb.
It’s not one of Dominic’s. I don’t know how I can tell from here, but the whole thing feels wrong.
My suspicion is confirmed when my phone buzzes.
Get in.
I look back at the service door.
This is it. This is the moment where I can still fix it. I can go upstairs, call Dominic, hand him the phone, and let him be furious. He might yell. I might yell. He would lock down the city. He would do whatever violent, terrifying thing he thinks needs to be done.
Maybe he would find my father. Maybe he would fail again.
The car’s back door opens. No one gets out. I hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I can still see the blood on the pavement. I can see the outlines of the bodies. My father was taken violently, and this may be my only chance to reach him.
Deep down, I know this may be the worst mistake of my life.
I walk to the car anyway.