Chapter 27
LUCA
My whole body hurts.
I fell asleep on the sofa in my private study. It’s comfortable and dressed in fine leather, but it’s nowhere near adequate to sleep on. I need a few minutes to stretch and figure out what day it is. I may have had too much whiskey last night.
Who could blame me?
I needed something to help me come down from that crimson haze of pure rage and helplessness I felt upon learning that my brother is still alive and hidden in one of Mancuso’s secret houses. There’s a lot I don’t understand yet, so much information I’m still missing.
It would be foolish of me to storm the place without a proper plan.
Victor’s texts greet me as soon as I check my phone.
Back at 10, his last message says.
I look at the clock. It’s almost nine.
“Fuck,” I groan and get up for another stretch.
My bones crack, my muscles unwind, and my ribcage relaxes with a deep, shuddering breath. A thousand thoughts cross my head before I text Caroline and remind her she’s on the clock on this one. In the meantime, I’ve ordered Solomon to watch the Mayfair house and send me hourly reports.
There’s been no movement so far.
“Good morning, Susie,” I say after almost bumping into her outside the kitchen. My stomach growls loud enough to make the girl blush as she looks up at me.
“Good morning, Mr. Petrucci. Breakfast is ready, already on the table.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a half smile. I must look like shit, my shirt half unbuttoned and my pants creased from my rough sleep, but I don’t care. I need coffee injected into my system and enough carbs to get my mind and my body back to a more functional standard.
Once I reach the breakfast room, the smell of the foot hits me hard. My hunger becomes unbearable, and I dig right into a plate of pancakes and bacon, drizzling maple syrup without a lick of shame, including on the scrambled eggs.
Susie fills my cup with freshly brewed coffee, awkwardly smiling while she watches the color return to my cheeks with every hearty bite.
“I hope you feel better,” she says. “Shall I get you some of the fruit salad, too? We made some yesterday, and the fruit is still fresh, the way you like it.”
“Sure, why not? Though I’ll feel a lot better when my wife and nephew join me for breakfast. Are they up yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Susie mumbles, her brow slightly furrowed. “It’s a little odd, actually. They’re usually up at eight. I’ll go check.”
“Please, do. I need to talk to Valentina anyway.”
And apologize. And tell her about Stefano.
Fuck, how the hell do I tell her about Stefano?
I keep considering the emotional impact it’s going to have on her, the indisputable fact that the father of her child is still alive. And I keep fighting against this underlying feeling of jealousy that won’t let me go. I shouldn’t feel this way. She’s mine, all mine, body and soul.
And I’m hers.
All hers.
Susie returns with an ashen face and a quivering lower lip. “Mr. Petrucci…”
“What is it?”
“Valentina and Michael… They’re not upstairs. I just checked.”
The first pang hits hard, but my mind won’t go there yet. I’m tired and slightly hung over, reeling from too much anger and confusion already.
“Maybe they’re out in the garden,” I say, setting my fork down.
“Some of their things are missing, along with one of their bags.”
A split second later, I run into Michael’s room. Some of the drawers are open. The dresser door, too. Looking under the bed, I see that the suitcase is still there, but the duffel bag with the blue hippo decals on one side is gone.
“Fuck,” I whisper and check the boy’s bathroom. His toothbrush and toothpaste are gone.
With a trembling hand, I fish my phone out of my pocket and call Valentina.
Maybe this is a big mistake, a huge misunderstanding.
Maybe she took Michael out with a couple of bodyguards, and they’re off on a morning walk or something.
But no, the security crew would notify me.
They know better than to keep me out of the loop after her morgue visit with Victor.
My call goes straight to voicemail.
Susie catches up, panting from her race up the stairs. “I checked the front gardens, too, Mr. Petrucci. The playroom, the library… They’re not in the house.”
“Yes, I gathered that much. Get security up here now.”
“Right away.”
She disappears, leaving me with a deluge of terrifying thoughts, each worse than the last, until it dawns on me to call Victor. He picks up at the second ring. He sounds groggy, and I realize I may be the one who woke him up.
“Luca, what is it?”
“Valentina, is she with you?”
“What? No. I’m at home. I haven’t seen her since that argument in your office the other day. What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find her or Michael anywhere.”
I hang up, nowhere near patient enough to explain more.
I’m seething, a tremor of rage and fear coming over me and twisting my mind into the darkest possibilities.
By the time the security guards reach the room, I’m pacing it like a caged lion, trying to call Valentina over and over again, only to get her voicemail every time.
The more I try, the angrier I get.
“Sir,” Enzo says.
“How did she get out?” I ask, trying to keep myself from complete fury for a little while longer. Lashing out is unproductive. I need my men to find her.
Enzo and Gary look at each other, their brows furrowed.
They both realize the trouble they’re all in, considering what transpired.
In light of recent events, this is their worst-case scenario, and I need to see if I can count on them to make it right.
Otherwise, I’ll need a new security team I can actually trust, because I will destroy the ones I currently have if Valentina and Michael are not found.
“Roy is already going through the security footage,” Enzo is quick to say. “We’ve been doing our rounds regularly since we came in at midnight. At the time, the day shift told us Valentina and Michael were still in the boy’s room. CCTV footage should also confirm.”
“What does that tell you?” I reply.
Gary takes a deep breath. “That they slipped out somewhere during our shift change. We would’ve seen or heard them otherwise.”
“Then there are the motion-activated cameras, the motion detectors—” Enzo tries to explain, but I explode. I can’t hold it in anymore.
“What it tells you is that my wife basically made you all out to be the biggest fools on this fucking planet! She waited until the shift change to slip past you, undetected, and she’s had enough time living here to know how to elude the fucking cameras and the motion sensors.”
“Sir, we didn’t expect—” Enzo tries again, but I cut him off once more.
“I need security footage from 23:45 hours to midnight. Every single fucking shot that shows my wife and my nephew. She couldn’t have slipped past all of them. If you were busy doing the shift change, then that was her only window of opportunity.”
“Yes, sir,” Enzo replies.
“We’re deeply sorry, sir, we had no…” Gary pauses and clears his throat. “It’s our responsibility, and we failed you.”
I close my eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep the migraine from spreading faster and deeper into my brain. Tension surges through my muscles, tightening the knot in my throat. I take a deep, rib-cracking breath, then let it out slowly.
“Valentina is an expert at slipping away,” I concede, having lashed out enough at the people I trust and need for the battles ahead. “This wouldn’t be her first time escaping. Her stepfather can tell you that much. Get me the footage and cast a wide net to find her.”
“We’ll go citywide, sir,” Enzo confirms.
“Get in touch with Raquel since she handles the family bank accounts. Have her put a trace on Valentina’s cards and freeze the accounts in the meantime. As soon as Valentina tries to pay for something, I want to know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And tell Solomon to stay on the Mayfair issue. I still need those hourly reports, no matter what. The rest of you can handle Valentina and Michael,” I say.
They both nod and leave me to my devices, except that my devices result in a fit of rage, and I end up trashing the room altogether. Everything within my reach is destroyed.
No matter how many breaths I take, I still feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m about to pass out and lose myself in the madness of her absence.
I don’t know for how long I unravel. Time loses all sense and direction until my phone rings and Caroline’s name appears on the screen.
Panting and sweating, red-faced and shivering with raw emotion, I give it a couple of rings before I’m able to slide my finger over to take her call. Even then, my voice is barely a raspy whisper, a tortured cry for help.
“Caroline,” I manage.
“Luca, we need to talk about Valentina.”