Chapter 17
Bullet Straight To My Heart
I sometimes wonder if you’d still be friends with me if you knew me now. — Enzo
Enzo
Fuck.
Fuck!
Her lips. Her goddamn lips. So soft. So perfect.
My fingers comb through my hair, pulling at the ends, as I replay the way they felt against mine. How she tasted.
Fuck.
How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want to do that again? That I don’t want to claim her from the inside out?
Hearing her say it was a mistake sent a pain shooting through my chest, like a bullet straight to my heart.
Breathe.
Focus.
Forcing myself to forget the way she felt pressed against me as my tongue explored her mouth, I turn my attention back to the three profiles.
Now I know the names of the three motherfuckers who hurt her, I can start planning ways to make them pay.
I scour through information, memorizing every single detail about them, tracking their movements, learning their habits.
My phone ringing snaps me from my focus. Dante’s name lights up my screen.
“Boss,” he greets, as soon as I pick up.
“What’s up?”
“Gio wants another meeting. He says to bring your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I snap.
Laughter echoes in my ear. “Yeah, whatever you say, boss. You good to meet tomorrow night?”
“I’ll make it work. Tell him we’ll meet at the club again.”
I don’t really want to go there again with Izzy—not after what happened last time—but I also don’t invite people into my home.
“Consider it done.”
We hang up and I leave my office, finding a plate of food waiting for me on the kitchen counter with a note written in Izzy’s handwriting.
Made you some dinner. I’m getting an early night. See you in the morning.
I groan, picking up the dish and bringing it to the microwave to warm up. I really hope things don’t become awkward between us. That’s the last thing I need. I just got her back.
After eating, I crawl into bed, exhaustion weighing on me. I wish Izzy was here, her warm body pressed against mine.
Sleep eludes me for hours as thoughts of her tumble through my mind.
“Lorenzo.” Gio greets me with my full name, making me grind my jaw.
“Giovanni,” I retort.
He chuckles.
“And Isolde,” he turns to Izzy, “it’s nice to be formally introduced.”
Gone is the trembling girl that was here the last time. Now, she sits confidently beside me, shaking hands with Gio with a polite smile. “Mr. Santorini.”
“Let’s get right to business, shall we?” Gio leans back in his seat casually, though I see the tension radiating off him in waves.
I nod.
“The information you sent me on the Ivanov’s working with Delaney was useful—looks like it’s a huge network. They have incredibly high-level clients. It’s a whole ordeal. Auctions.”
Each word has Izzy stiffening beside me.
“How do you know?”
Gio just grins, shaking his head. “I have my ways.”
That’s most likely code for he tortured someone for information.
“What I want to know,” Gio continues, “is what you know about all this.” He directs his stare to Izzy who squirms under the intensity.
“Nothing,” she replies. Quickly. Too quickly.
Gio’s expression narrows. “I don’t believe you.”
I should stop this from becoming an interrogation, but I don’t. Yet.
Izzy shrugs, a picture of nonchalance. “Then don’t. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Gio smirks. “You’re his wife. Perhaps you’re in on it with him.”
Izzy’s fingers grip the table in front of her. “I have nothing to do with Lucas’s sordid affairs.” The words are calculated, laced with venom.
Gio just chuckles. “But you do know… about his,” he pauses for dramatics, “sordid affairs?”
Izzy purses her lips, taking a slow sip from the vodka tonic I ordered for her. “What I know, or don’t know, doesn’t concern you.”
Gio hisses, leaning forward menacingly. “It concerns me when my g—" he swallows hard "—sister's best friend is missing, and all evidence points to your husband.”
I wait to see what Izzy will do with that information. She nibbles on her lip before deflating. “I can’t tell you what I know or don’t know. But I promise to help you get her back.”
Gio eyes her before eventually sitting back, one leg strung over the other, arm tossed over the back of the booth as if he wasn’t two seconds away from throttling her. Not that I would have let him.
We finish our drinks, the conversation turning lighter. Eventually, Gio stands, offering me his hand. “Pleasure as always, Lorenzo.”
“Likewise, Gioivanni.”
Then he’s gone.
I don’t like that Izzy is hiding something from me. I’ve done some digging, though perhaps not enough. Nothing stands out as a red flag. I don’t want to dig too far. For some reason, a part of me is worried about what I’d find, and another hopes she’ll come to me when she’s ready.
I just hope it’s not too late when she does.